"Not all those who wander are lost."
J. R. R. Tolkien
I
A jolt coursed through Hermione stomach as she landed on the ground, clutching a rusty key. Surveying the quaint town of Salem, Massachusetts, a mix of curiosity and apprehension washed over her. This place held an air of mystery, a fresh start waiting to be written.
Survival had become second nature to her, honed through years of combat in the war against Voldemort. A hero and a leader, her actions had ultimately saved the wizarding world. But victory had come at a steep cost. Her parents, robbed of their memories, and many friends, who had made the ultimate sacrifice, were casualties of their triumph. Life seemed to enjoy throwing her off balance, testing her courage.
But in the midst of the chaos, there was a ray of hope. Harry, her best friend, had stood by her through the hard times. His unconditional love and support had pulled her out of the darkness of despair when she felt like giving up. They had made memories and plans for the future, dreaming of a life together.
"Mione, this is your new beginning," Harry's voice rang in her ears, as if he were right next to her. "A fresh start for you."
She smiled faintly, imagining Harry's bright smile and his messy hair. He had been her anchor throughout the stormy journey that had brought her here.
"You always have a way with words," she had said, affection in her voice. "And you're right. Salem is my opportunity to find myself again, to let go of the past."
He nodded, his eyes shining with understanding. "And I'll be here for you, every step of the way."
They fell into silence, but the words they didn't say lingered in the air. She loved Harry, but their dreams had diverged over time, and his expectations had become oppressive.
"Mione," he finally broke the quiet. "What about us? What about our future?"
She sighed, looking at the horizon. "Harry, I need room to grow. To discover who I am without feeling trapped."
He frowned, pain flashing in his face. "But I love you. I want to share a life with you. We planned to start at the Ministry together, I have already joined the auror program and and you could do so much there."
"I know, Harry. I do. But I need to fly, see the world beyond London. Find out who I am beyond this small world," she said softly, hoping he would see her point of view.
He stayed silent for a while, his eyes probing hers for clues. "I'm scared, Mione. What if we drift apart?"
She felt a pang in her chest, torn between her love for him and her desire to grow as a person. "Harry, our bond is strong enough to survive this. We'll find each other again, better than before."
His worry weighed on her heart, but she felt a surge of resolve. "I can't let the fear of losing you stop me from finding my true self. I owe it to both of us."
He moved closer, his hand reaching for hers, and she knew this journey would be hard and risky. But she also felt a spark in her, ignited by a letter from her mother that she had found by chance.
One day, as she was going through old boxes in her childhood home in Hampstead Garden Suburb, London, she came across an old letter from her mother Hélène. It was the first letter she had received from her after she had left for Hogwarts. Her words were a mix of sweetness and pride, a sign of her love and support, even though she didn't understand her daughter's gift. Her mother was a free spirit, sometimes too much for her own good. She and her father William lived each day as an adventure, seizing the moment.
Soon, young Hermione learned to adapt to a life of constant change, moving from one place to another with her parents, who were doctors and volunteers. They travelled all over Britain and, at times, to far places like Africa and South America, where they helped people in need. It was exciting, but also challenging. Hermione had to make new friends, attend different schools, and cope with different cultures. Hélène urged her to enjoy life to the fullest, to face her fears. It was almost like she knew she needed a new beginning, a chance to escape the limits that held her back.
Her mother often said she looked like her uncle, and now she understood what she meant. Castor Megalos died on duty as the chief of police, chasing a criminal who killed him. He was loyal and brave, but he never left his hometown Sitia, a port village in Crete. He lived in a rut, with the world losing its charm. Hermione decided firmly that she didn't want to follow his path.
With new courage, she packed her stuff into her small beaded handbag, the money from war reparations giving her a ticket to a new life. Salem, Massachusetts was her destination, a place where she could spread her wings and fly, far from the expectations that had suffocated her for too long.
Hermione had arrived at the historic town a few days ago, ready to start her studies at the Salem Institute of Magic, the American magical institute, where she would pursue a master's degree in alchemy. The witch had always been fascinated by the concept of creating the philosophers' stone or panacea, and she wanted to learn from the best.
The colonial architecture and the crisp air greeted her, as if welcoming her to a new adventure. She found a place near the institute campus, eager to dive into the world of alchemy. As Hermione settled into her cozy flat and got ready for lessons, she felt a wave of curiosity. Salem gave her a chance to reinvent herself without the burden of her past pulling her down. The rich history that surrounded the town was a constant inspiration for the magic that life still offered.
The Salem Institute of Magic was located within the impressive House of the Seven Gables. Its long history spanned across the centuries, each beam holding within it secrets of ancient times. The house, rising tall and elegant, had been built in 1668, a tribute to the wealth and power of the land's old first wizards. Though the house had been originally constructed in colonial times, the current structure had been renovated in the 19th century, retaining the essence of antiquity within its very walls.
Hermione felt a rush of emotions on the first day of classes. The classroom was alive with chatter and movement as students claimed their seats. She chose a quiet spot in the front and sat down, trying to calm her nerves. Her heart pounded as she observed her classmates, who seemed eager to talk and make friends.
But she was different. She enjoyed the peace of her own mind and the company of books more than small talk. When one of the last descendants of the renowned Nicolas Flamel walked to the front, she snapped to attention. Sir Gervaise Flamel, the professor, was a striking man with silver hair and a voice that captivated the room like a master alchemist.
"Good morning, everyone," he said, his eyes scanning the crowd. "Welcome to the advanced alchemy class. I'm Gervaise Flamel, and I'll be your professor for this semester. I hope you're all ready to embark on a journey of discovery and wonder, as we explore the secrets of nature and the mysteries of elemental transfiguration."
He started going over the syllabus, but her mind drifted to the charming town views she had seen that morning. This was a new world for her, far from the restrictions of wizarding Britain. Hermione felt a sense of freedom and wonder.
As Sir Flamel spoke, she glanced at her classmates, who had different expressions of interest and ambition. Some were whispering to each other, making early bonds. But she kept to herself, for now.
The witch took out a parchment and began writing notes with a fountain pen, absorbing every word he said. The topic about elemental transfiguration was fascinating, and she was drawn into it. Time flew by, and soon the class was over.
"Thank you for your attention, class," Sir Flamel said, wrapping up his lecture. "I look forward to seeing you again next week. Please read the first chapter of the textbook and prepare for a quiz. Have a good day."
As Hermione packed her things, a friendly face came up to her. It was Abigail Bishop, a student who had sat next to her.
"Hey, I noticed that you were as hooked by the lecture as I was," the girl said with a warm smile. She smiled back, thankful for her kindness. "Yes, it was a great way to start the semester. I'm Hermione, by the way."
"Nice to meet you, Hermione," Abigail said. "Are you new here? You look unfamiliar." She nodded, feeling excited. "Yes, I'm from England, looking for a new place. After the war, I needed a change of scenery. Salem seemed like the ideal place for that."
Abigail's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "That's awesome! I've lived here all my life, so I can help you get around and settle in if you want." Hermione appreciated her offer. "That would be lovely, Abigail."
She felt a surge of relief, noticing that Abigail did not seem to recognize her name or her face. She was tired of being known as one of the Golden Trio, the heroes who had defeated Voldemort. She wanted to be herself, not a symbol or a legend.
They continued talking, and the British witch left the classroom with a new friend. It seemed that Salem was not only a place for her to explore herself but also a place to make connections and friendships. As they walked down the hall, Abigail asked, "So, what made you choose alchemy as your major?"
Hermione shrugged, feeling a bit shy. "I've always been interested in the mysteries of nature and the secrets of the philosophers' stone. I think alchemy is a fascinating field of study." Abigail nodded, impressed. "I agree. I'm also fascinated by the history of alchemy and the legends that surround it. Did you know that Salem has a rich alchemical heritage?"
Hermione looked at her with curiosity. "Really? How so?" Abigail smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Well, you see, one of my ancestors was a famous alchemist and a witch. Her name was Bridget Bishop, and she was the first person to be executed during the Salem witch trials." Hermione gasped, feeling a surge of sympathy and admiration. "Oh, I'm so sorry. That must have been horrible for your family."
Abigail shrugged, trying to be brave. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, and I'm proud of my heritage. Bridget was a courageous woman, and she left behind some amazing alchemical works. She was rumored to have created a stone of projection, a substance that could turn base metals into gold." Hermione's eyes widened, amazed. "Wow, that's incredible."
While the other students mingled after the lecture, Hermione grabbed her stuff and headed to the library. It was her haven, a place where she could immerse herself in books and escape to different worlds. She walked among the towering shelves, listening to bits of conversations around her. She found a snug corner away from the crowd.
The scent of old books enveloped her, and she breathed deeply, feeling at ease. The past still haunted her, but today was a new page, a chance to reinvent herself. In the quiet of that corner, she opened her first book for the semester. The words on the page took her to another time and place, and she smiled. The pages were full of new possibilities.
One cold day, as Hermione walked home from a study session at the library, fate threw her another curveball. A flash of light blinded her, and she unleashed a blast of accidental magic. The explosion was shocking, sending sparks flying and her heart racing.
Confused and shaken, she was in the middle of the incident, with screams and curses around her. As she tried to think clearly, a man appeared from the chaos – a man with white-blond hair and a smug aura that contrasted with the turmoil. He seemed to come out of nowhere.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, his voice angry but firm. Hermione gasped, still stunned by the accident. "I… I don't know. It just happened."
He reached out to help her up, "Come on, let's get you out of here, before the muggles notice." As he looked her over, his touch was oddly comforting, easing the fear and anxiety that had overwhelmed her before. There was something intriguing about him, until she finally realized it was Draco Malfoy, her former school rival. Caught off guard, she momentarily lost her breath.
After making sure that she was okay, Draco offered to take her to the hospital wing, feeling her shaky nerves. They walked through the crowded streets in a tense silence, a break from the chaos. She realized how much she disliked his company, how his arrogant manner seemed to annoy her.
As they got close to the Institute, she spoke up. "Why are you helping me, Malfoy? I thought you hated me."
He gave her a smirk, and for a brief moment, she saw a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I do hate you, Granger. But I also have a sense of duty. I can't just leave you here, bleeding and confused. Besides, I'm a healer, remember?"
She nodded, feeling a bit sarcastic. "Oh, yes. How could I forget? You left Britain after the war to study magical maladies."
He shrugged, feeling a bit defensive. "I'm here for a research project. Salem has a rich history of traditional healing practices. What are you doing here, anyway?"
She sighed, annoyed. "I'm here for a master's degree in alchemy."
They arrived at the hospital wing, where Draco checked her in and examined her for any injuries. He was gentle and professional, but she felt his eyes on her, studying her. She felt a blush rising to her cheeks, and she hated herself for it.
He finished his diagnosis and gave her a potion to drink. "You're fine, Granger. Just a minor concussion and some bruises. You'll be back to your normal self in no time."
She thanked him and drank the potion, feeling a wave of drowsiness. He helped her to a bed and tucked her in, his touch lingering on her skin. "Get some rest. I'll be back to check on you later." He left her alone, but his presence stayed with her.
After that day she had other blasts of accidental magic. Soon, vivid and haunting dreams filled her nights, taking her to a different time. Stormy gray eyes were the only familiar thing in a strange world.