Empire
.:OOO:.
Author's Notes: I found out that there are children's books translated in Scottish and it absolutely tickled me, so I thought that since one of my new characters is Scottish I'd try to write his dialogue in the 'Scottish way' using a Scottish Words Glossary I found online. Granted, I might have gotten a little overboard on it though. The one posted here on FFN is the regular dialogue version, for those who find 'writing accents' annoying. The one posted on AO3 is the unedited version, Scottish and all.
Let me know what you think of the chapter!
.:OOO:.
BOOK ONE
.:OOO:.
Chapter Four
Hermione ran for her life that day, ran like the hounds of hell were at her heels. She burst into her home, the door slamming open with a loud bang and the windows rattling on their frames. In her panicked state, Hermione had rushed inside and found her parents, who'd jumped up in surprise, in the living room. She barrelled into them and clung on for all she was worth, leaving both adult Grangers confused and bewildered as she desperately babbled unintelligibly about magic and Archie and bullies through gulping breaths, snot, and tears. Baffled, they took her in their arms and sat her down on the sofa, murmuring words of comfort and reassurance.
It only made Hermione cry harder.
Her parents. Oh, no, they were going to take her away from her parents now.
Some time later, when Hermione had settled down enough to recount the events of that afternoon clearly, Elizabeth and Oberon Granger listened, grim-faced at the implications of such an incident. They exchanged distraught glances. It wouldn't be long before the governor and the rest of the village knew of Hermione's magic. It wouldn't be long before they came for her.
"I'm sorry, Mum, Dad," Hermione whispered sorrowfully after all was said, her voice tremulous and still thick with tears. "I didn't mean for this to happen."
"Oh, my darling." Elizabeth swept a loving hand down the little girl's tousled hair from where she sat beside her on the sofa, wiping her tears away. "It's not your fault."
"Your mother is right." Oberon nodded, reaching out to gently squeeze a large, warm comforting hand over his daughter's. "It was a situation outside of your control, and we don't blame you for any of it."
"But—" Hermione sniffled dismally, "But they'll take me away." She glanced up at her parents, eyes filled with uncertainty and fear. "Won't they?"
Helplessly, Elizabeth could only hug her tighter.
That evening, they clung onto each other, knowing their time together was now numbered.
Not an hour later, a knock came through the door, echoing like the loud, deafening toll of a dirge. Resigned, Oberon stood heavily to greet their guests. As it had been with Little Timmie years ago, news of Hermione's magical abilities spread through the settlement like wildfire, and sure enough, the governor and the appointed council members were at their door, faces grave and unyielding.
.:OOO:.
The clobs were coming to pick her up in a little over a week.
Hermione stared down blankly at the book she was trying to read, eyes unfocussed and unseeing. The governor had wasted no time sending a messenger to the merchants' caravan, who had then relayed the news to their clob counterparts, when he'd heard that Hermione did, indeed, possess magic. The clob merchants had then, apparently, let a clob settlement know of her existence. The response had come a week later, informing Dweller Haven of their arrival to 'fetch' Hermione from the settlement.
While the confirmation had only set her mum off crying again, Hermione absorbed it with a brooding resignation. It was all her fault, despite what her parents told her. She'd been irresponsible and a part of her still couldn't accept what had happened, couldn't believe what she had done, had allowed herself to do. She'd made a grave mistake and now she would never see her family again.
Hermione blinked firmly, willing the heat of tears from her eyes. Of course, at ten years old, Hermione knew the clobs wouldn't eat her, as she had previously believed. History classes and books had taught her of the Freemen system of separation, and she knew exactly why it was necessary for her to go to a clob settlement. Clobs and non-magicals could never mingle with each other, no matter the circumstances.
Suffice to say, Hermione had never before felt as awful as she had in the last week. The thought of never seeing her parents again, never being able to talk to them again, was terrifying. But what really bothered her was her internal war with herself. The fact that there was a part of her — a tiny, secret part — that looked forward to going, to being with clobs with magic, to being with people with magic, to learning more about magic than she would be able to dream of, to be surrounded by it, was something she found difficult to admit, even to herself.
Because the truth was, Hermione loved magic. Inside her was a spark that only she could feel; a spark that was so a part of her, it felt one with her heartbeat. And she had cultivated it as best she could in her own way, but it was also something forbidden, hidden away. A part of her that Dweller Haven and even her parents could never accept.
Hermione loved magic...but it was also taking her away from the people she loved. How was a ten-year-old supposed to feel about that?
She heaved a heavy sigh, closing the book in her hands, smiling sadly at the tattered cover. Matilda, the title read in large uppercase letters. Her favourite book. She wondered what she would have done were she in Hermione's position.
...Then again, Matilda did dislike her own parents. She probably wasn't the right person to ask anyway…
The sound of rustling rolled up from the ground below. Hermione looked up and out the window from the fitted bench she was seated on. A couple of younger kids were there, just outside their fence, gawking and pointing, giggling and playfully pushing one another towards the door. Her door.
Hermione frowned at the sight of them. She didn't know them but she did recognise them from the school, though they were probably from another class. What were they doing here?
Just then, one of them looked up, spotting her through her bedroom window, and jerked back, as if the sight of her frightened them. Before Hermione knew it, both kids were running off, taking off as fast as they could.
She watched their distant forms from her perch with a scowl, annoyed now. While she hadn't been the most well-liked kid in school, and she knew the older kids in her class were always miffed at her (but, really, it wasn't her fault they were slow!), they had never been afraid of her.
She hadn't been to school since...well, since the incident with the nincompoop Reggie, and her parents had been careful not to let anyone in the house since. Which suited Hermione just fine. She didn't fancy being gawked at like some freak anyway.
But...but, while she had never been particularly fond of the kids at school, being stuck at home, knowing how much the people she grew up with and around now hated her…
Were all the kids in school afraid of her?
Was Archie?
The thought made her incredibly, unexpectedly, sad.
Lonely.
Hermione's gaze drifted back down to the front of her house, feeling melancholy. She stopped short when she saw a new figure standing there, his dirty blond hair glinting against the sunlight. Her heart leapt in her chest and before she knew it, she was off her perch and racing down the stairs.
The boy barely had the chance to pull at the doorbell before the front door swung open, revealing a winded and wide-eyed Hermione. Archie jumped back, both in surprise and evident guilt, twitching as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have red-handed. "Hermione! Oh — uh, erm, hi," he stuttered awkwardly, fidgeting.
Hermione's heart hammered in her chest. She hadn't seen her friend since the Incident; she'd been sure he hated her, like everyone else in the village did. And though all she wanted to do was throw her hands at her friend because of how much she missed him ever so much, she hesitated. What if he was scared of her? What if he did hate her and he'd only come to her to let her know he would never ever be friends with a clob?
She gulped, finding the thought more plausible. Perhaps it hadn't been a good idea to race down like that, after all. The last thing she wanted was to lose her friend to her face on top of already losing her family.
Steeling herself, she crossed her arms across her chest. "What are you doing here?" she demanded with a scowl. If she acted tough, maybe it would hurt a little less.
Archie winced at the tone of her voice. "Listen," he shifted awkwardly, a thin hand coming up to tug anxiously at the sleeve of his shirt, "I-I came to apologise." His face morphed into a guilty grimace, eyes downcast, though he soldiered on. "I—"
Hermione didn't even let him finish. She launched herself at him, throwing her arms over his shoulders in relief. "I thought you hated me!"
Archie stumbled back, taken by surprise, but returned her embrace a moment later. "I don't!" He pulled away, holding Hermione's shoulders at arms length, eyes wide with wonder. "But Hermione! You're a witch!"
"Shhhh!" Hermione grabbed her friend (he was still her friend!) by one of his outstretched arms and pulled him hastily inside. She slammed the door shut and rounded on him, a small fist connecting with his shoulder.
"Ow! Hey!" Archie winced, rubbing at the smarting spot.
"You can't say that! People will hear!"
"What? That you're a witch?" The boy's brows furrowed in confusion. "Hermione, it's not like everyone in the village doesn't know already."
"Archie!"
Archie raised both arms up in surrender. "Alright, fine. Whatever you say." Then, he dropped his hands and peered at her with curious, wondering eyes. "Still, I can't believe you're a witch." He paused, a pregnant silence enveloping them. "You've known for a long time, haven't you?"
This time, it was Hermione's turn to fidget with the hem of her shirt, the familiar guilt she'd felt for so long settling heavily on her shoulders once again. She'd always wanted to tell Archie about her magic, but considering how it was a secret she was supposed to take to her grave, Hermione knew she could have never told him. Not until now.
Unable to lie — not to her only friend; not anymore — she nodded. "I've known since I was very young."
"Why didn't you tell me?" There was hurt in his voice, a frown pulling at his brows. "I...I thought we were friends."
"We are friends." Hermione affirmed insistently, "but it was a secret. I wasn't supposed to tell anybody. Or else...well," she shrugged. "You know why."
A heavy silence settled between the two of them. The thought of the impending arrival of the clobs was a sobering one.
"Hermione, darling? Are you there?" a voice rang out from down the hall, followed by the sound of the back door closing shut.
Hermione looked up at the sound, and forced a smile to her face. The fact was, the clobs were coming; it was inevitable. And she'd rather spend time with her friend than mope more about it.
And with that, she reached out and pulled Archie deeper into her house. "Come on, mum's about to prepare some tea!"
.:OOO:.
Hermione spent as much time as she could with her parents and Archie, regardless of the scrutiny she received from the rest of Dweller Haven. Each day that passed was a day closer to her exile, and Hermione could feel her dread mount with each hour that went by. Even as she tried to relish the moments she had left with her family, her impending future hung heavy on her shoulders. Hermione knew she was leaving Dweller Haven for good, no matter how much her mother still tried to appeal to the governor to let her stay. Governor Martin had been clear in his last missive to their family: the clobs would be coming in less than two days.
Two days, she sighed heavily.
"Hermione, dear, is that you?" a familiar thin voice echoed down from across the hall.
Hermione looked up, torn from her morose thoughts, and found the frail figure of Mrs Figg sitting at her desk.
"Hullo, Mrs Figg," she greeted hesitantly, shifting awkwardly from where she stood by the door to the library, unsure of her reception now that everyone in town knew she was a...a clob.
In the days that followed the revelation of Hermione's magic, the Granger household had barely seen any visitors. Not even Hermione's cousins had come by to pay her a visit since hearing the news of her...magical capabilities, though her dad had told her he'd spoken with Uncle Elliot, and that her uncle had given his sympathies for her 'situation', so there was that. But it was obvious, even to a ten-year-old, that people were avoiding her.
"Well, hullo dear!" Mrs Figg adjusted her spectacles as if doing so would help her see Hermione better. "Well, whatever are you loitering there for? Come in, come in!"
Tentatively, Hermione stepped into the small village library, a place she was as familiar with as her own home. Mrs Figg didn't seem to sound particularly unwelcoming and she breathed her own breath of relief with every step she took inside without being rebuffed or sighed at by the elderly woman.
"What brings you here, dear? Come to borrow another book?" the old lady asked kindly as she peered down at Hermione through her half-moon spectacles.
"Actually, I came to return one." Hermione rummaged through her rucksack and produced the worn copy of Matilda from its depths. For as long as she could remember, she'd been continuously borrowing it from the library ever since she'd found it years ago. Today was the day she'd part with it for one last time.
Much like she did every time Hermione came to return a book, Mrs Figg reached out, took the book, and squinted at the title. She smiled. "Ah, Matilda. Your favourite, I see." She handed the book back to Hermione without much preamble. "And an appropriate one at that."
"Mrs Figg?" Hermione's brows furrowed, confused.
"Keep it, dear," Mrs Figg said, nodding her head as if in agreement with herself.
"But—"
The old lady tutted. "A special girl like you will need another special girl like Matilda to guide you. It helps to have familiar friends around in a strange new place, don't you think so?" She winked.
Hermione couldn't help but look at the old woman with bewildered amazement. It was the first time she'd heard anyone other than her parents call her 'special', someone who didn't immediately find her repulsive for having magic. "I—" She hugged the book to her chest, overwhelmed. "Thank you, Mrs Figg."
.:OOO:.
When Hermione left the library, she found Archie waiting for her outside.
"Hey, Hermione! Your mum told me you'd be here," he said with a grin as she approached.
"Hullo, Archie." Hermione smiled at the sight of her friend, surprised to find him waiting for her. "What are you doing here?" she asked with a tilt of her head. Archie wasn't a frequent visitor of the library and wasn't he supposed to still be helping Mr Pickering today? They'd agreed that they'd meet at his shed tomorrow.
"We finished up early today," the boy answered with a shrug. Then he saw the book in her hands, his brows furrowed in confusion. "You borrowed another book? I thought you'd have finished reading all the books in there by now."
Hermione rolled her eyes at him but looked down at the book in her hands as well. "She let me keep it."
"Keep what?" Archie's eyes flew back up to her. "Who?"
"Mrs Figg." Hermione held out her book to Archie for emphasis. "She said I could keep this." She looked back down at it again, still a little bit amazed. "I wonder why…"
"That's because she probably understands," Archie responded lightly, one hand coming up to scratch at his nose. "Since, you know, you're leaving and all."
"What do you mean?" Hermione eyed her friend curiously.
Archie shrugged. "Mrs Figg just knows what it's like to leave and go to a new settlement. We both do."
"You mean…"
"Didn't I tell you?" Archie's nose wrinkled before shrugging to himself again. "Yeah, Mrs Figg is also a squib."
Hermione blinked at that. Mrs Figg was a squib. That was unexpected. She'd never thought that Mrs Figg would be born to clob parents, but if she was, she'd have had to leave her magical settlement to come to Dweller Haven when she was a kid, too.
'It helps to have familiar friends around in a strange new place, don't you think so?' she'd said. She wondered if Matilda had been her guide when she first came to Dweller Haven.
Then she paused as she processed exactly what Archie had said.
'We both do.'
Tentatively, Hermione asked, "Was that...how did you feel? When you left to come here, to Dweller Haven?"
Archie responded with another heavy shrug, and instead of responding, started walking down the path that led to Hermione's home. She promptly followed. They walked silently together, shoulder to shoulder for several moments, the sound of their feet crunching against the gravel the only sound that accompanied them.
And then Archie spoke.
"It was a long time ago," he began, "but I was seven when I was brought to Dweller Haven."
Hermione looked at him but Archie's eyes remained forward, looking far off in the distance.
"I was really scared when they told me I had to leave," he admitted quietly. "And, as I told you before, my...parents were disappointed that I didn't have magic. It was… it had been lonely." Then he looked up and gave Hermione a genuine smile. "But Mr and Mrs Pickering are good to me. And I now have you as my friend."
"Except now, I have to leave," Hermione scowled, her mood darkening.
"What I'm saying is, it won't be too bad, Hermione. And if it is, it will get better with time. Besides, you'll be around magic. It's where you really belong."
Hermione halted, aghast at what she was hearing. "What did you say? You can't mean that!"
Archie also stopped. They were just at the edge of town, the road deserted. "You're a witch, Hermione. You don't belong here. Not with muggles."
"You're wrong! I— why would you say that? I'm—"
"A witch!"
"Stop saying that!"
"But you are!" Archie shouted back, breathing heavily and glaring at her. "You may not know it now, but you belong with magic! Not here! You have no idea how lucky you are!"
"Well, I don't want it! I don't want magic!" It was a lie, of course.
"Why? Is it because you think clobs are evil? Huh? Am I evil for being born from people who have magic?"
"Of course not! But you're wrong! I do belong here! How can you say that I don't? I do belong here, with my mum and my dad and with you—"
"Hermione, I don't belong here!"
Hermione stuttered. "W-what?"
"I don't belong here, either," Archie announced stiffly, hands balled into fits. "And I know you know it, too."
"What do you mean?" she asked, but she she had a feeling she did know what he meant. Archie was often singled out at school for being a squib, a son of clobs. He'd never outright told her, but he must have hated it.
"I don't belong here, too. We both don't." Archie shook his head. "You're too smart to stay at Dweller Haven, Hermione. You skipped two grades and you like to learn things. In a few years, you'd have learned all that you'd need to here. And then you'd be bored out of your mind. What will you do then? If you go to a magical settlement, you can learn new things, learn how to use your magic."
"What about you?"
Archie kicked at a loose pebble on the ground. "I…I want to go out there."
Hermione gasped. "You can't mean…"
Archie sighed. "The truth is, I want to join the caravan. I want to see the world outside. Go Beyond the Dell." He smiled eagerly. "Mr Taylor told me all about some of the other settlements in the country. There're loads of places to see! And think of all the inventions I can make and sell!"
Hermione listened in silence, but the truth was, she could easily see it. Archie, out in the world, with his handy gadgets and ideas. "Aren't you scared? Merchants are in constant danger of being caught by the Empire."
"I'd rather be scared than miserable," he declared with a stubborn jut of his chin.
"I'm scared," Hermione admitted after a pregnant pause, looking down and realised it was true. She'd been trying to put on a brave front, especially when she could hear her mother crying nearly every night and see her dad speaking to her with sad eyes. "Archie, I'm really scared."
Archie reached out and placed a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder, an affectionate gesture she'd seen Mr Pickering do to him. "It'll be alright, Hermione. Pegasus Peak was a really amazing place. If the settlement you go to is anything like it, then I'm sure you'd love it there. I did, you know. Before…" He trailed off awkwardly, before he jerked his hand back as if just remembering something. "Oh, I almost forgot!" He patted around his overalls, feeling for something in his pockets, before he stuck his hand inside the ever present bum bag he always had with him whenever he came from his shed and rummaged deep inside.
Hermione looked at him curiously. "What is it?"
"I wanted to give you this." Archie produced something from the bag's depths, something oval and black.
Something familiar.
"Here." Archie held the thing out in his hand, waiting for Hermione to take it,
"You can't be serious." Hermione balked, not making a move towards what her friend was offering. "Archie, that's your multi-tool!" He'd once told her he'd saved up for it for months, working as often as he could with Mr Pickering so he could buy it from the caravan merchants. It was his most precious possession. Archie always created his inventions with it. "I can't take that!"
"I want you to have it, Hermione." Archie urged, pushing the multi-tool into her hands. "It's a gift. To remember me by."
Hermione looked down at Archie's most prized possession in her hands in wonder. It was hard to imagine that Archie would willingly part with it. "But what about you?"
"Don't worry; I won't need it." Archie said with a shake of his head.
"What?" Hermione whipped her head up abruptly.
Archie smirked at her look of surprise, puffing out his chest and rubbing a finger under his nose. "I'll be 12 in a few months. Mr Taylor has agreed to let me become his apprentice for the next few months." His smirk turned into a genuine grin. "Then I'm joining the caravan in the spring."
Just then, before any of them knew it, Hermione had launched herself at her best friend, throwing her arms around his shoulders and hanging tight. Tears were in her eyes and she couldn't help the sob that left her mouth when she felt him return her embrace after his initial shock had subsided.
"I'm going to miss you, Archie MacBoon," she murmured, her voice trembling wetly.
Archie tightened his arms around her. "I'm going to miss you too, Hermione."
And she was. Hermione was never going to forget the first friend she'd ever made, a gifted young squib with big dreams.
.:OOO:.
The night before the day of her departure, Hermione stared at the contents of her open satchel. She had her two trunks already packed, with her books and clothing mostly, but this last one was filled with her personal effects, the few things she treasured. She ran a hand down at the book Mrs. Figg had given her and Archie's weathered multi-tool, feeling morose yet touched, happy yet lonely at the same time.
Was this what feeling bittersweet was like?
"Is there room for one more?"
Hermione looked up at the sound of her mum's warm but solemn voice and found both her parents standing by the door of her room. "Mum, Dad." She turned to them and tried to smile, for her mum's sake, but the corners of her lips felt heavy for some reason and her eyes stung again. She took a deep breath. "I was just packing. They're...the clobs are coming tomorrow."
Her mum stepped into her room and sat on her bed beside the open satchel. She gave Hermione a sad smile, and if Hermione looked hard enough, she could see that her eyes were red-rimmed, as well.
"It's very sweet of Archie and Mrs. Figg to give you these to remember them by." Elizabeth nodded down towards the two objects sitting prominently in her bag.
"And as your parents," Oberon interjected in a jokingly huffy tone as he stood by the foot of Hermione's bed, "we thought we'd give you something as well. I dare say, it would be remiss of us not to at this point."
Hermione stifled a giggle as her mum rolled her eyes at her dad, unimpressed by his attempt at lightening the somber mood that had settled upon their household the whole night. Then her mum turned to her and opened her hand to show her what she'd been cradling in her palm.
It was a necklace. It was gold and simple, with a small and oval pendant also the colour of gold and just about the size of a small stone. It had an intricate engraving at the front of two swallows in flight, one at the top and one at the bottom, facing a rose branch that swirled elegantly across one side of the pendant.
"Your father and I wanted to give you this." Her mum presented the jewellery in one hand and used the other to open the pendant, revealing a picture inside.
"It's a locket," Hermione breathed with wonder as she stared at the photo it displayed within. It was of the three of them, one that had been taken the year before, in the summertime, when the merchant caravan had been in town. Her mum had always insisted that Hermione's photo be taken each year, and the merchant had cajoled her parents into taking one of the three of them together. It had been a wonderful day.
Her mum slipped the locket around her neck, the chain long enough for the pendant to rest comfortably just below her chest and right above her stomach. Hermione moved in to give her mum a tight hug, closing her eyes to savour the warmth and feel of having her arms around her. "I love you, Mum."
"Oh, my darling," Elizabeth hugged her tighter. "I'm sorry that there is nothing more we could do to keep you here with us."
"It's not your fault," Hermione said with a shake of her head, her wild curls flying and sticking to her wet cheeks. Oh, goodness, she'd told herself she wouldn't cry again! She put on another brave smile. "It's just the way it is."
"That may be so," her dad came over and laid a warm hand over her back, "but that doesn't mean we won't think about you every single day."
Hermione turned in her mum's arms to give him a hug in turn, breathing deeply to commit her familiar scent to memory. "I love you, Dad."
"I love you, too, Poppet."
"No matter what happens and no matter where you are, remember that we'll always be with you." Elizabeth pointed at the locket. "We will always be right here and we will always love you."
Hermione held onto her parents as long as she could that night, feeling like she was leaving more than just her home and her family behind. She felt like she was leaving heart behind, as well.
.:OOO:.
As it had been the last several weeks, Dweller Haven was abuzz with chatter and gossip. The clobs were arriving today, come to pick up a young witch among their midst. Archie ran through the old cobbled streets of the village, ignoring the villagers that milled around, obviously there waiting to watch Hermione's exit procession with the governor and her family.
Archie rolled his eyes at the spectacle. Bloody busybodies.
The boy rounded the corner to Hermione's cottage and ran down the row of houses. As he neared, he saw a wagon parked at the front, with several people standing around it. He slowed, spotting his friend in the midst of the adults around her. Her parents were there, as well as the governor and two men he recognised were on the village council.
"Archie!" Hermione called out when she spotted him, waving a hand up in the air. She broke away from the group and met him part way.
"Hey," Archie greeted back. "All right, Hermione?"
Hermione shrugged and looked over her shoulder as one of the men heaved one of her trunks onto the wagon. "The governor was just telling my parents that the someone will come to fetch me here by midday." She turned back to Archie with a small smile. "Thanks for coming."
Archie shrugged in turn. He wasn't a particularly expressive boy but Hermione had been his closest friend in Dweller Haven. Actually, she was his only friend. Not that he minded. He'd never cared for the kids and people in the village, aside from Mr and Mrs Pickering, who'd taken him in when he'd arrived, but Hermione had reached out to him when no one else had, and it made him sad to see her go.
"Hermione, we're ready to go." Mrs Granger announced.
Both kids clambered onto the wagon, along with the adults, and with a quick yip at the horses, they were rolling down the street, past the houses and the main square, past gawking eyes and wagging tongues, past the gates of the village and towards the barriers of the settlement.
The ride to their destination was a silent one, the clattering of the wagon and the clip-clopping of horse hooves the only sound that accompanied their journey. Archie watched the scenery pass silently. He'd been through this road only once before, heading in the opposite direction, towards the village.
The the valley surrounding Dweller Haven, colloquially known as the Dell, was encased in some sort of spell erected by the first Freemen wizards that ensured no other being or thing could find nor pass through the village, making sure that anything and everything in the settlement would be devoid of magic. Once Hermione passed through the Dell, she'd never be able to come back or her own magic would incinerate her. Archie himself, on the other hand, would be able to pass through it freely, like many of the merchant caravans. But should they carry anything magical in their stock, it would spontaneously combust.
By the time they arrived at their destination, they found themselves in front of a steep cliff face. Archie stared up at it in wonderment. He'd never seen it from this side before. He wondered where the barrier even began; it really was invisible to the eye.
"The exit to the settlement is through here." The governor's voice drifted along the rustling wind from where he sat at the front seat of the wagon with the driver. Archie turned to craned his neck towards the cave's entrance. "On the other side, a mercenary we've contracted with through the caravan will be waiting for Hermione. From there, he will be taking her to the rendezvous point where she will meet the clobs."
"A mercenary?" Mr Granger balked, sounding aghast. Clearly this was news to him. "Now, see here, Martin!"
Governor Martin raised a hand to stall Mr Granger's protest. "I know how you feel, Oberon, but it's a perfectly safe transaction. One we've done many times before. The Mercenary Corps has always had an agreement with the caravan since the dawn of the Freelands."
"He's right," Archie found himself chiming in. But when all eyes turned towards him, he reddened, embarrassed. "I-I mean… I remember they did the same thing when I came to Dweller Haven. All caravans travel with mercenary protection."
Archie had been only seven years old when he'd left Pegasus Peak, but he remembered his journey between the two Freeland settlements with stark clarity. It had been both terrifying and exciting at the same time but he remembered being passed from one group of people to another, from magical to muggle, until he arrived in Dweller Haven.
Governor Martin nodded in affirmation. "It is forbidden for clobs to know where a non-magical settlement is, and vice versa. It is a security measure that has been in place since the foundation of the Freelands."
Mr and Mrs Granger exchanged worried glances, but finally nodded their reluctant acquiescence. There wasn't much they could do with the arrangement anyway. The moment Hermione had been found out to be a witch, they'd lost all claim and power they had over her.
They continued on, entering the crevasse of the cave, big enough that two wagons could pass through, until finally they could see a beam of light up ahead. When they reached the end of the tunnel, they found a man standing there, leaning against one side of the cavern wall.
Archie looked him over with undisguised curiosity. As did Hermione and her parents. The man was tall and broad, wearing a wide brimmed hat that he tipped up once he saw them approaching.
He looked intimidating.
"How's it going, governor?" he said when the wagon clattered to a stop in front of him. He righted himself, stepped closer, and nodded his greeting. "I'm Douglas Kelly."
Archie blinked up at him. Up close, the man was huge! Nearly as tall as a bear! If nothing else, Archie was sure Hermione would be safe with him.
"Mr Kelly," Governor Martin answered coolly at who Archie assumed was the mercenary he had mentioned. "This is Oberon and Elizabeth Granger."
"Pleasure," the man grunted gruffly, not sounding at all pleased. Mr and Mrs Granger responded with polite greetings that were entirely ignored as Mr Kelly's eyes scanned the wagon before it landed on the two kids sitting at the rear. "I thought I was only transporting one youngun."
"Erm, yes." Governor Martin gestured towards Hermione. "Miss Hermione Granger. You'll be taking her to the rendezvous point, as agreed?"
Kelly pinned Hermione with a hard look and Archie could see his friend stiffen in turn. He didn't blame her. The man looked like he'd be more dangerous than any imperial clob they might meet along the way. Finally, Kelly nodded then tipped his head towards a donkey he'd tied to a tree a short distance away from the entrance of the cave. "Alright, Let's get her loaded up, then."
In a matter of minutes, Hermione's two trunks were hoisted up onto the jack, along with what was presumably Mr Kelly's own pack, and then it was time to say a final goodbye.
Archie stood aside as Hermione went to her parents first, watching as she hugged them tight and shared whispers of love and warmth that only they could hear. He shifted awkwardly at the sidelines, feeling like something heavy had lodged itself in his chest. He'd initially been jealous of the affection Hermione received from her parents. He hadn't hugged nor seen his own since he was seven. But Hermione had always been generous with her affection towards him, and Mr and Mrs Granger had never made him feel unwelcome. So he'd counted himself lucky to be looked after by such kind and caring people. He hadn't thought it would hurt him to see them devastated like this.
If Archie had learned anything early on in life, it was that it could be truly unfair.
Archie was pulled away from his thoughts when Hermione moved over to him and without saying a word, threw her arms around him again. Archie had once thought her affectionate nature to be annoying, if not unfamiliar. But now, perhaps he was going to miss it terribly.
"Goodbye, Hermione," he murmured sadly, an echo of how his own mum had bid him goodbye all those years ago.
"No, Archie, it's not goodbye," Hermione corrected in a low voice as she pulled away. "It's 'see you again soon'."
Archie's brows furrowed in confusion. "Wha—"
"We're going to see each other again. I'm sure of it." Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, the familiar determined glint in them shining through the shadows of the cave. "I'll make sure of it."
Archie blinked for a short bewildered moment before he broke into an answering grin. He didn't know how she would manage to do that, considering interaction between non-magicals and clobs were strictly forbidden, but if there was anyone in this world he knew (albeit there wasn't many) who could find a way, it was Hermione.
"So, see you again soon, Archibald MacBoon." Hermione held out her hand to him.
Archie took it. "Yeah, see you again soon, Hermione Granger."
It was a promise.
.:OOO:.