Breaking the window: Expedition to Hyperborea

Chapter 6: A sceptic is convinced...

"Dear reader, I must apologize for my depiction of the first days on board the HMS Kingfisher. Alas, my body betrayed me in such a way that I was quite unable to set a foot outside of my cabin for even a minute. Thankfully my beloved Hermione was willing and able to gather notes for me. Though she is no writer, by her own admission, she is methodical and thorough."

- Bellatrix Black, Expedition to Hyperborea, published 2006

"I feel poorly," Bellatrix managed weakly as she barely stirred underneath the blanket.

That was the understatement of the year. The expedition didn't really get off to a good start for poor Trix; she had some trouble finding her sea-legs. Sat next to the bed, Hermione had spent most of the morning holding a bucket at the side of the bed for Bellatrix to empty her stomach in. By god, that so much could still be expelled from such a small girl who hadn't eaten for a day.

"Here," said Hermione, running a hand through Bellatrix' curly hair. "Better out than in."

A strained groan sounded as Bellatrix pulled up her legs to lie in a fetal position. The poor thing was literally shivering.

"Come on," said Hermione, putting the rim of a glass of water to Bellatrix' lips. The normally pale-skinned Bellatrix was quite literally looking a bit greenish. "Don't swallow, just rinse and spit out. It'll get the awful taste out of your mouth."

A pathetic moan followed just before Bellatrix did so and Hermione hoped to hell and high water that the smell of the bucket's contents wouldn't cause Bellatrix more convulsions and vomiting. The water was spit out without much trouble and nothing else followed.

"This is terrible..." Bellatrix spoke in a weak voice. "... I'm the expedition chronicler. I'm supposed to be out there, documenting the first days of the expedition..."

Hermione kept stroking her hair. "Don't you worry about that. I'll try my best to take over. I might not be a writer, but I can certainly take thorough notes. Who were you supposed to interview today?"

"Chandra..."

"Chandra, hm? Alright."

"And..."

"Hm?"

"General mood of the crew, sights around the ship, things that strike your fancy. Just... try to be lyrical about it."

"Lyrical? Tall order that," said Hermione.

Bellatrix let out a sigh. "Some chronicler I am... I'm fucking useless..."

Hermione said nothing and grabbed her hand. God, her hand was so cold. Her entire body was. "Don't say that. You'll just need some more time to adjust. You'll get your sea-legs soon enough."

Some soft buzzing came from underneath the blanket. When Hermione peeked underneath, she could see Zipper rather happily nestled against Bellatrix with two trembling arms wrapped around him. "Zipper, you have one job," said Hermione. Thankfully, Zipper was only only too happy to fill the role of cuddly comfort wasp. One final kiss on the forehead and Hermione tucked her Bellatrix in to sleep off her misery. Hopefully, she would feel better soon.

Hermione left their cabin after gathering her satchel and gently closed the door behind her. Today she would have a double role as expedition naturalist and chronicler. It was a quiet morning as Hermione stepped on deck and felt the cold winter wind blow gently through her hair. The Kingfisher made its way along the coast of Scotland, close enough for some gorgeous views against the background of the sun's rays breaking through the grey UK clouds.

So, she decided to take her camera out of the satchel to shoot some pictures for her logbook. It wasn't a wizarding model, but rather a professional digital one with a powershot telephoto lens, given to her by her father. Photography had become a sort of hobby of Hermione and she used this digital camera back in the greenhouse to take macro-shots of her plants. She, in fact, vastly preferred muggle cameras over wizarding ones. For one, wizarding cameras were heavy and bulky and couldn't match the high resolution, hair-fine sharpness and colour-depth muggle digital cameras offered. So what if the pictures didn't magically move? Digital cameras could shoot short movies, after all.

Another plus point was that with digital cameras: there was zero chance of a photograph failing to be not being developed properly months later. Though the obvious downside was that, outside of Tahki and perhaps Nymphadora, nobody on board could even grasp the concept of a 'memory card'. Charging the camera and her laptop would prove a challenge on board, though Beodul had promised she could use one of the outlets in the wheelhouse whenever she wanted.

Speaking of Beodul, she could hear the goblin boatswain barking orders from the fore of the ship. Otherwise, the crew on deck was quite calmly going about their business. Daelia was up in the crow's nest while Copperhead was checking the riggings on the mizzen-mast. One of the wasps, Infinite Corridor she believed, was buzzing around the deck picking up bits of rubbish. Though she couldn't quite make out what Beodul was yelling about, Riggere and Irrena seemed to be taking the brunt of it.

Part of Hermione's task was to document wildlife, which here was the occasional sea-bird flying near the ship. She snapped a few quick pictures and would identify the species with the Peterson Field Guild later. Another task was checking the readings from the ship's small weather station on top of the wheelhouse. Hermione did just that. She stowed her camera in her satchel and climbed the metal ladder. Once on top, she took out a notebook and jotted down the wind speed, wind direction, barometer readings and humidity. She would do this six times a day.

After climbing down again, she leaned on the railing and looked upon the waves. The sea was calm today and the Kingfisher cut through the waves like a knife through butter. If she'd hazard a guess, this ship was going ten, maybe twelve knots at the moment. Top speed was supposedly as high as forty knots though the ship's structure wouldn't allow that speed for too long a time. The white sails above caught both the natural wind and the eolic magic generated winds from the sanctum stone like a charm.

Right, the interview then. Honestly, Hermione didn't relish it. She was never a 'people-person' to begin with, but she supposed Chandra might have something interesting to say. She went down to the passenger deck where one of the office room at the fore section was in the process of being set up with all manner of instruments. When Hermione stepped inside, she felt as if she had stepped into a mad scientists lair. Stacks of magically driven machines had been unpacked and were in the process of being set up. Most of these machines looked like big radios from the 1950s, with wood casings, big dials and glass tubes connected to… god knows what. Thick wires ran all over the floor as workstations were being set up. Here and there, magical energy crackled through what looked like tesla coils. Gauges and displays were backlit and it made Hermione's head spin to think what all of this could even do.

Two persons were in the room. One was Chandra, who was behind several machines fiddling with the wiring. The other was Tahki. Her friend lay on her back underneath one of the consoles next to a toolbox. Tahki wiped some sweat from her brow and Hermione started to notice this room was considerably warmer than the corridor she had just stepped out of. The Native-American Black was clad in a sports bra and baggy cargo trousers as a result. Her tattoo-covered arms were disappearing into the bowels of one of the machines.

"Hey Hermione," greeted Tahki while working.

"Tahki," smiled Hermione.

"Oh, is that you, miss Granger?" called Chandra from the back of the machines. "Is miss Black coming to interview me? I'm afraid I'm running late. I'll be right out once I have all these wires hooked up."

"Bellatrix is… indisposed at the moment," said Hermione. "If you won't mind, I'll be the one to interview you."

"Puking her guts out, right?" chuckled Tahki. "Poor Bella."

"Tahki here was kind enough to help me out setting up the facility," said Chandra, her voice muffled and almost drowned out by energetic crackles.

"Nymph did too, though she was called away to the hold," added Tahki, still focused on the wiring. "This isn't all that much different from the filtration system we use back home to filter the minerals from the mountain water. Those minerals are an essential ingredient for our enchanted tattoo ink. Just… too much wood, man. Traps all the heat inside the machines. What's wrong with some metal enclosures and some fans?"

"The metal causes small imbalances which throws off the readings. The wood enhances the focus. Think of the wooden enclosures as a giant wand," said Chandra from behind the machine.

To say Hermione was fascinated was understating it. Though she didn't even understand half of what she was seeing here, the chat with Chandra should prove interesting. And then there was Tahki. Though Hermione had seen her arms exposed and already knew them to be covered in tattoos, the exposed skin on her body revealed even more tattoos. The Black family crest was a new one, but there were even more smaller and bigger ones on her shoulders, her midriff and her side. No doubt plenty on her back too. Hermione's eyes were drawn to a large tattoo of an angel covering most of Tahki's right side. The angel, a rather buxom one at that, held out her arms and revealed a name.

"Steve," Hermione said.

Tahki kept working but let out a sigh. "My best friend. From high-school. No-maj boy. We were inseparable."

"No-maj? High-school?" Hermione replied.

"Unlike Brits, we don't go to a fancy magical boarding school and Ilvermony is just for preppies. Loads of American 'regular kids' go to a normal school with all the no-maj kids and then get home-schooled on the magic stuff," said Tahki. "Met Steve there. Massive idiot. Stupid asshole got himself killed in a car accident."

"I'm so sorry," said Hermione.

"Not your fault," sighed Tahki. "You didn't make him drink a six-pack of Bud before he stepped into his clunker of a car. Fuck, I miss that hard-head."

And apparently Tahki loved her friend enough to have his name immortalized on the canvas of her skin, along with a big bosomed angel. No doubt there was meaning behind that, but Hermione didn't want to pry further. By now, Chandra had emerged from behind the machine and she certainly wasn't dressed for maintenance. The same black dress with the deep cleavage as before adorned her body, along with high-heeled boots. For an ex-unspeakable, she certainly played the role of a sexy femme fatale witch. Only thing missing was a pointed hat.

"Right, shall we speak?" asked Chandra.

"I need to focus on this for a bit," said Tahki from underneath the console. "If I get wires crossed here, I'll blow out half the circuitry and electrocute myself. Just pretend I'm not here. Uhm, except when I do actually electrocute myself. Feel free to step in then!"

While Tahki continued working, Chandra and Hermione were sat at a small desk which would be a future work-station. Chandra draped herself over the chair while Hermione got her notebook and quill out. Good god, the cleavage really was deep on that dress. How was that in any way practical on a ship sailing to the Arctic?

"Miss Granger?" sounded the amused voice of Chandra. "Eyes are up here."

Blood rushed to Hermione's cheeks in an instant when she realized she had been caught. She sheepishly looked away and stammered her words. "S-sorry. Uhm. They're, uhm, sort of hard to miss."

"I'm just pulling your leg, miss Granger," said Chandra. "I suppose I should have worn my coveralls today, considering all the work to do in setting up my facilities. May I call you Hermione? You may call me Chandra, of course."

"Y-yes," Hermione dared to raise her eyes again. "Of course. I, uhm, have no idea what kind of questions Bellatrix meant to ask you since she, well, never had the chance to tell me. But I suppose we should start with the obvious things."

"Chandra Raywood, born in Thurrock, Essex. Thirty-nine years old, no children or family to speak of," said Chandra. "Graduated Hogwarts class of '84, House Ravenclaw, EE scores on all subjects. Started work as an unspeakable right out of school."

Hermione rubbed her chin. "Is that why I didn't see you at the ceremony yesterday?"

Chandra chuckled. "Like I said, I have no family to speak of so I had no need to waste my time there. It's mostly for the patron and the expedition leader to preen anyway. Besides, I don't like crowds."

"Fair enough," said Hermione, noting some details down. "How long did you work as an unspeakable?"

"About eleven years before I struck out on my own," said Chandra. "I was twenty-eight at the time. Mind you, I've done some wonderful work on expanding theory of magic, but ultimately found working for those bureaucratic apes to be utterly stifling. You've dealt with the Ministry before, I believe. Trust me, it's not much better when you're right in the middle of it."

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. "Tell me about it."

"Endless array of forms, all departments pointing at each other when you need something clarified, endless amounts of often contradictory rules and self-important middle-managers," shrugged Chandra. "It's a miracle the Ministry can operate at all! So the past eleven years I took my knowledge of the inner workings of magic and became somewhat of a rogue researcher. Done a lot of work tracking magical signals over vast distances. Which is how I got into contact with Eleanor."

The next ten minutes were spent chatting about the theory of magic and some of Chandra's findings, as well Hermione's own research into the Fae Mirrors. But when it was time to steer back towards the interview, one question came to Hermione's mind.

"What makes you believe that Hyperborea is real?" asked Hermione.

Chandra frowned. "What an odd question," she said. "I could also ask you why you are so sceptical. Everyone here is certain. Why not you? You are on board this ship, after all. And a trip to the Arctic is hardly a pleasure cruise."

Hermione bit her lip. "Being sceptical is in my nature, I suppose," she replied. "I find it odd that I seem to be the only here even entertaining the thought that we might find nothing. Failure is always an option with these types of expeditions."

Chandra took Hermione's hand and squeezed it. This surprised her so much that she almost started blushing again. This raven-haired temptress was beyond beautiful after all. "I believe!" Chandra smiled broadly. "I believe in Hyperborea and in Eleanor Snowbell's quest to find it. That is why I am here. Hyperborea belongs to all wizard-kind and we will reclaim our lost birthright!"

"After ten-thousand years?" asked Hermione. "If it was that easy to find, wouldn't it have been found already?"

"It's not in a place that is often travelled and likely magically hidden."

"Or at the bottom of the ocean, if it exists at all."

"There is always a way," said Chandra.

"You still haven't answered my question," said Hermione. "Why do you believe?"

Chandra thought a moment. "In my days as an unspeakable, I've seen things that would make a normal person's head spin. Delved deeper into magic than most wizards have ever dared to look. It's not hard to believe in a lost city where magic was first practised. Did you know why the previous expedition failed? No experienced captain or crew and no proper equipment, sure, but also a lack of faith. We won't make that mistake here. All my machines are uniquely qualified and prepped especially for this mission. If there's so much as an iota of magic in the air, my machines will spot it from a hundred miles away. Most of all, I believe the city is out there to find and I will tenaciously look for it until it is found!"

"I just don't understand. Bellatrix blindly believes because it's Eleanor, but how she ever convinced Andromeda is a mystery to me. Tell me, what made you such a believer?"

Chandra gave her an incredulous look. "You mean… you haven't seen it?"

"Seen what?"

Chandra leaned forward, her cleavage straining against the fabric so much it almost caused Hermione to gulp. "Cut this interview short. We can pick it up again later. Go talk to Eleanor. Tell her what you told me. Ask her to show you. It will will make you a believer."

"R-right," replied Hermione, trying to look everywhere except down Chandra's dress. She locked eyes with Tahki, who had stopped working to listen at Hermione and Chandra with interest.

"Don't look at me," chuckled Tahki. "I'm just here as a back-up for these lovely machines with my precious savant powers."

"I am quite certain my marvellous machines will put you out of a job, Tahki."

Hermione took her leave of both Chandra and Tahki and, after a few moments to jot down some meticulous notes for Trix' later perusal. She had to admit, though, that her curiosity was definitely piqued. Fortunately she didn't have far to walk. Eleanor had set up office directly opposite to the room Chandra's machinery now occupied. After knocking on the door, Hermione was welcomed into a room which was much smaller than Chandra's. Eleanor was sat behind a desk which was set up with the chair facing the door and was flanked with wooden chests. One of the chests was opened and revealed several pots nestled in straw. Papers were strewn over the desks and baskets of scrolls were set on top of some chests, while a large chart of the plotted out journey covered most of the wooden bulkhead. Sparse light was coming in through three portholes while the lamp hung above the desk was off. All in all, despite this office being only occupied for only half a day, it already looked lived-in.

"Miss Granger," greeted Eleanor. The elderly explorer was still dressed rather nondescriptly, but her general mood had significantly improved ever since the ship had set off on its voyage. Considering this was something she had been working towards for the last thirty years, Hermione wasn't very surprised.

Hermione forced a smile, trying to swallow her nerves. "Hermione, please."

"Is young Bellatrix doing alright?" asked Eleanor. "I heard she had fallen ill."

"Nobody's more disappointed than Bellatrix herself," said Hermione. "I'm sort of filling in for her duties as chronicler."

"Ah," asked Eleanor. "Are you here for an interview then?"

"I interviewed Chandra, as good as it went," said Hermione. "I'm no writer, but I can certainly take notes. But that's not why I'm here. Chandra told me to come visit you. That you could show me something which, and I quote, 'make me a believer'."

There, it was out. Oddly enough, it was only now that Hermione was starting to feel anxious. Especially when she saw Eleanor's expression freeze a little.

"You are sceptical," said Eleanor, her expression neutral. A rather forced neutral. It was hard to deny a flash of tiredness had come over her. "You don't have to say anything more. I know the look. The tone. The placating polite smiles. I've seen quite enough of them the last thirty years."

Hermione, slightly stricken, was quick to apologize. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend… It's just… Let's just honest about it, I don't quite know why I'm here. Bellatrix wanted me to come, sure and I want her to be happy… But it still feels like running away from my troubles. And for what? How do we know Hyperborea is more than just a story? It resonated with many cultures, sure, but… are we really going to find something at the end of the rainbow, so to speak?"

Eleanor held up her hand. "No need to apologize. You are here on our expedition, which is far more than I can say for most of the other sceptical people I've met. You've more than earned your right to ask questions."

Hermione nodded. "I had expressed my doubts to Chandra. It seems that I am the only one who is entertaining the possibility of failure. She said I should talk to you. Adamantly, in fact."

Eleanor chuckled. "Chandra is a poetic, certainly. But like you, I prefer evidence over blind faith. It's something I can appreciate. None of my expeditions have ever failed, Hermione, I have always found what I set out to find. All because of pain-staking research and gathering of clues and evidence before even setting off. We will find Hyperborea, of this I have no doubt, it's just a matter of where and what state we'll find the city in. But we are going to find it, this I swear."

"What makes you so certain?" Hermione asked. "What is this something which will supposedly make me a believer?"

"Let me take you on a journey, Hermione," said Eleanor. "I won't insult your intelligence by giving you my usual introduction about folklore and shared legends about an exodus from a lost city in many different cultures throughout history. Instead, let me show you this."

Hermione watched as Eleanor opened a drawer and withdraw what looked to be a large map which she unfolded on her desk. It was soon revealed to be a map of the world with many dots pitted onto it. The dots were clustered in zones, with the zones colouring from different shades of red to different shades of green. Northern most zones were bright red and southern most zones were bright green.

"What am I seeing?" asked Hermione as she studied the map.

"For over a decade," said Eleanor, a smile on her face. "I have studied an catalogued hundreds upon hundreds of artifacts which were even tangentially related to Hyperborea. Pots with depictions of cataclysmic events, certain styles of statuettes, runic stones, you name it. On this map, I've sorted all of them by oldest age, correlated with location found. Quickly, a pattern emerged."

Hermione nodded, she could see it too. "The oldest artifacts were found in the northern red zones and artifacts found get younger as you go further south."

"Exactly!" said Eleanor, a grin on her face. Apparently the elder witch was happy to share this with a witch whose intelligence matched her own. "On this map, you can clearly see migration patterns for wizard-kind as they spread further down South. Here, you can see that wizards moved down from the Arctic to the north of what is now Canada to go down further into the Americas. On the other side of the world, wizards landed in the north of what is now Eurasia. From there they moved down into China and India on one side and into central Europe on the other. Again, from there they moved to Scandinavia, Greece, Egypt and Africa. That explains two things which has been puzzling historians for years. First, why there was no sign of magic or wizarding culture in Sumeria, the oldest known civilisation. Second, why there was no sign of magic or wizarding culture among the Australian Aborigines."

Hermione looked Eleanor in the eye. "If this chart is correct, then in the case of Sumeria, that civilisation was too far south and too old for the ancient wizards to have reached them yet at the time," she concluded. "For the second, wizard-kind simply never went that far south until the British Empire landed on Australian shores fairly recently. Australia is literally on the opposite end of the Earth from where Hyperborea should be."

Eleanor snapped her fingers in delight. "Exactly!" she said. "Remind me to show this to Bellatrix when she feels better. This needs to be part of her journal and her book. As it's a central part of my research."

"You never shared this with anyone?" asked Hermione.

"Only with potential patrons," said Eleanor. "I didn't dare share it further. Look here. If you see the migration patterns, you clearly can see that point of origin is above the Arctic circle. By careful examination of old legends, descriptions, runes and depictions over the course of another five years, I've managed to conclude that the most likely place to find Hyperborea is in or around Prince of Wales Island. I'd stake my life on it."

Hermione rubbed her chin, looking at the map. "That is still so much ground to cover. Is that why you hired Chandra? And were so eager to get Tahki on board?"

"Chandra is an expert in finding magical anomalies and comes highly recommended," said Eleanor. "And Tahki is a savant. In a sense, she is the back-up plan."

"It's very compelling," said Hermione. "I can see why Chandra was convinced."

Another grin followed. "That's not why Chandra became a believer. Nor Andromeda Black. But you'll have to swear that what I'm about to show you won't leave this room. Not yet anyway."

Hermione watched with fascination as Eleanor walked over to a heavily secured trunk and undid the lock. Eleanor bent forward and fetched an object wrapped in a white cloth. "Now," she said. "I came upon this treasure almost by accident. It was found by British Arctic explorers some 150 years ago in an Inuit village which had been destroyed by a flash-flood where this was the center piece of an altar. Muggles never knew what they had and it had been languishing in a crate hidden away in the basement of the British Museum. I, uhm, saw fit to liberate it from its confinement. Take a look."

She had to admit that Eleanor had a way with building up excitement. Of course, she was a show-woman at heart so this wasn't strange in itself. Eleanor gingerly put the heavy object down onto the desk and unfolded the white cloth. Inside the white cloth lay a rounded shard of shiny metal about the side of Hermione's arm. It was perfectly machined and rounded, adorned with ancient runes and had a bright amber hue.

"What is that?" asked Hermione as she studied the object carefully,

"Part of a casing, I'd wager. Not sure what kind of casing, but it's what it's made from that is most staggering. Feel how light it is compared to its size?"

Hermione did so and found it remarkably light. Only then did she realize what it was. "Is that… Orichalcum?" she asked, knowing full well it was a magically transmuted element from copper used to shield users from harmful magical energy in industrial production processes, among other things.

"It is. And before you ask, it's been dated by independent third parties, both magical and muggle," said Eleanor. "It's ten-thousand years old, which fits perfectly within the timeline of both the migration pattern established and the stories of the cataclysm. Even more so, it's 98,2% pure."

"Impossible!" Hermione gasped. "Orichalcum that pure, even with modern metallurgy techniques and magical acid-edging…. That level of purity… Best we manage in modern days is something like 80%!"

Eleanor grinned. "That's what I told myself. Yet it is here, on the table. And it came from the Arctic region. The Inuit village was on the North-western tip of Somerset island, bordering close to Prince of Wales island."

Hermione's eyes roved over the runes. First of all, she could recognize not even a fourth of them. Second of all, they looked machined rather than carved. "The dialect is odd. It's… like the runes are not in proper order. They describe… this casing as belonging to… a 'facility 001'? And this looks like a warning. This run reads 'Away'. This rune reads 'In use'. This one reads 'Danger'. This… if I didn't know any better, these runes are a warning to stay away when whatever this was part of was in use."

"Noticed that, didn't you?" Eleanor grinned.

"Eleanor," Hermione gasped, finding her chest heaving with the implication of it all. "This like excavating an ancient Roman village and finding a motorbike!"

Eleanor nodded with an empathic smile. "In all the tales of lost cities, Atlantis first and foremost, it is described as a far-advanced civilisation, brought down by its own hubris. All the pieces of a puzzle start falling together. You are like me, Hermione. You have seen the path the evidence led you to. Are you a believer now?"

Hermione looked down at the impossible shard of near-pure Orichalcum and nodded briefly. "I'd be a fool not to."

"We'll find Hyperborea. I have no doubt. You're right about one thing, though," said Eleanor. "There's no way of knowing what state Hyperborea will be in when we find it and it might be at the bottom of the sea. That's why we're picking up a small diving bell at Nova Scotia. But even if we only find some ruins in ice-cold water, we'll still find the birthplace of wizard-kin regardless. All the people taking part in this expedition will become legends. Mark my word."

The young witch sat down in the chair offered to her, finding this all to be very overwhelming. But at the same time finding excitement mounting. She was still a scientist at heart, an explorer. Hell, an adventurer, really. All her life she had been a stranger in a strange land, but there was no denying she was a witch. A witch who would likely be among the first to lay eyes upon the very cradle of wizarding civilisation.

"If those pure-blood bastards who made my life miserable at Hogwarts could see me now," chuckled Hermione. "I can't wait to rub their noses in the fact that little mudblood Hermione was one of the first to set foot in Hyperborea in ten-thousand years. And Trix. Oh, she'll be so excited."

Eleanor smiled warmly. "I'm happy to have you on board, Hermione. Merlin knows we can always use another cool and intelligent head."

Hermione's mind was still going a mile a minute as she left the office and carried on with her duties. By now, it was time to check the weather station again and she did so mostly on auto-pilot. Though taking the proper notes, her mind was constantly on the strange metal shard, that part of a casing, and what it could mean. What it would mean. Though the expedition was still potentially dangerous, she was now convinced they would, at least, be able to find something at the end of the journey. Still deep in thoughts, she almost took a tumble when climbing down the ladder. She cursed loudly and one of the brothers, Eliam she thought, popped his head out of the wheelhouse window to ask if she was okay.

With red cheeks, she thanked the man and excused herself. Perhaps it was for the best to check up on Bellatrix for now.

Back at her cabin, she opened the door and found Bellatrix sat up at the side of the bed with her feet on the floor. Zipper shot up from the bed and landed on Hermione's head.

"I see someone is feeling better," smiled Hermione.

"Ugh," said Bellatrix. "My legs are still like wet noodles, but at least my stomach isn't trying to escape through my mouth anymore."

Hermione sat down next to her and started to gently rub her girl's shoulder. "Well, don't push yourself too hard too quickly, alright?" said Hermione. "Take it a little easy today and rest a little. There's plenty of time to talk to people and talk notes."

Bellatrix let out a disappointed groan and threw herself onto the bed, glaring angrily at the wall. "The first day! The very first day and stupid Bella gets sick! I missed so much!"

"This expedition is going to take months, Trix!" said Hermione, rubbing Bellatrix' belly for good measure. "It's fine. Nobody blames you."

"Hm…" muttered Bellatrix, obviously unconvinced.

Hermione lay down next to her, with Zipper landing on Bellatrix' stomach. The brown-haired witch nestled against her and pecked her on the cheek.

"And what was that for?" asked Bellatrix.

"I can't kiss my own girlfriend?"

"You usually don't do that at random."

"Fine," sighed Hermione. "Just a quick thanks for forcing me to come along."

"I didn't force you to do anything!" protested Bellatrix.

"You 'strongly suggested' then."

"True."

"I have a feeling this is going to be quite the journey," said Hermione and removed her camera from her satchel. After fiddling with it, the little screen showed the breathtaking pictures she had taken.

"Oooh," Bellatrix smiled. "That's perfect for a colour-insert for the book!"

"Thank you," smiled Hermione. "There'll be plenty of more to choose from at the end of the trip."

Together, the two of them lay in each other's arms for a moment longer, simply enjoying each other's closeness while listening to the sound of the ship's wooden hull slightly creaking as it cut through the waves.