Author's Notes: The first impetus for this chapter is when my sister asked for a clarification about the difference between calling, courtship and all that jazz. She's not exactly an avid reader of western historical novels to already have a general idea of it. Then, Orpheus Dexter enthusiastically took over the other half, and this is the result.
To Guest: Thank you for taking the time to write a thoughtful review. Yes, there really is no accounting for taste. I tell myself that at least my reviewers don't mainly consist of banal one-liners...quality over quantity and all that.
'-
29 The Complexities of Calling and Courtship, Advanced Astronomy
Supper: in which Julia chats with Hermione and tells of the sixth-year French Gryffindors. Hermione gets even more bewildered by the focus on courting and not-yet-courting. Chats with Auguste Murat. Advanced Astronomy class. Hermione finds something in the past of the odd Orphne/Orpheus Dexter.
'-
Hermione liked the smell of flowers when she was feeling down. It made her feel better. Turning flowers into crown so you can wear them was Luna's simple, straightforward idea of applying that thought.
It wasn't rocket science (ha!)
Yet from the number of students that did double-takes when they saw what Hermione was wearing, apparently, a crown of flowers was some sort of Political Statement in Hogwarts. For or against what, Hermione had no idea. She was pretty sure that Hogwarts wasn't completely blind to the earlier magical traditions of the druids that were more closely-aligned with nature. Thus, woven chains of flowers, the sort that Luna made on a daily basis, really shouldn't be alien…
Oh, who was she kidding? She wasn't talking about scholars of British magical history. She wasn't talking about the Unspeakables who were always up to trying new things. Of course, whether those new things were a good idea or not was a different issue. Still…it was the spirit of the thing. (She had seen Malina walking around with a glass hat that was also a brain aquarium, complete with the single floating brain. Hermione didn't even try asking what she was supposed to be doing. Some things, you were better off not knowing).
Eugenie saw the other French Ravenclaw and waved at him. This meant that their seating position was more or less decided on that basis.
As Tom escorted them to their seat at the Ravenclaw table, she saw the French wizard standing up as they arrived. He was across the table from Hermione—Eugenie had split up from them to walk on the other side of the table to sit next to him. Oddly enough, Lakshmi decided the same. Hermione was going to sit next to Lucretia.
"Auguste! You don't mind if we sit with you, do you?" Eugenie asked when they were rather close already. "Unless you were expecting other company?"
He had stood up for them. Hermione almost stared at him strangely before she remembered that it was the gentlemanly thing to do when ladies were arriving at the table.
"You could never be a bother, Eugenie. Mesdemoiselles Black, Chakravarty and Curie, welcome. Monsieur Riddle, thank you for escorting them."
"It was a pleasure, Mr. Murat."
Tom nodded back while Hermione had to stop herself from gaping at the sheer strangeness of the scene to her. It was the first time that she experienced full-blown pureblood tradition and manners, and she was still not used to it even with all the practice.
Some more polite words were exchanged and Tom took his leave from all the ladies present, though he did specifically bid Hermione farewell last and his nod to her was slightly deeper than the rest. Unfortunately for Hermione, she either had no idea about comprehensive pureblood etiquette, or it went wherever the hell the holes in her memory went. Tom's gesture just seemed like another nod to her.
The sixth-year, Ravenclaw prefect she'd seen earlier was close by. The other brunette casually shifted herself a few positions to end up near Hermione, her waist-length ponytail swishing as she moved. Julia, she reminded herself, her name is Julia.
"You don't mind if I take the seat next to you, do you, Hermione? You don't mind if I call you Hermione, right? We do take Advanced Transfigurations together." She said, rather rapidly.
"Oh, it's alright, as long as I get to call you Julia." Hermione said.
"Absolutely! Now, I hear that Bernadotte has managed to persuade the kitchen house elfs to try cooking his mother's Chicken a la Provençale. I'm looking forward to seeing it show up on our dinner menu." Julia said with enthusiasm.
"Bernadotte?"
"French Gryffindor? Very long hair in a braid? He'd be a Casanova if he wasn't such a joker. He might not look like it, but he's pretty responsible, which is why he's the sixth-year Gryffindor prefect."
"Ah," Hermione nodded as she tried to put a picture to the name. She remembered his blonde house mate, Ceres, facepalming next to him and elbowing him. "Pip, was it?"
"Yes. That's Philippe Bernadotte alright. I call him Bernadotte because for some reason, it annoys him more than if people call him Pip or Philippe. Ha! Made me sound all grown-up and respectable, was what he said. There's time enough for that later, don't you think?" Julia said this with a mischievous grin, and Hermione couldn't help but chuckle with her. She was an unexpectedly chatty witch, easy to talk to. Her brown eyes were warm and open.
The brunette felt bad that she hadn't included Lucretia in the conversation, but then noticed that her seventh-year friends had spotted her and taken the seat at her other side. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. The food hadn't appeared on the table yet, but the drinks had. Hermione went for some grape juice.
"He seems to be close to…Ceres, was it?"
"Ah, Ceres Victorinus—the other sixth-year Gryffindor prefect. Yes. Ceres grew up in France even though her mother is English. Their families are close because they both came from martial people."
Two French transfers both ending up as prefects? Hermione decided to follow her curiosity.
"How did Gryffindor sixth-year end up with them as their prefects? I'm sensing there's a story there."
Julia laughed. "Well, they're both pretty hard workers, so nobody was surprised that they got it. There's also…hmm, I can't quite put a finger on it, but I'd say Dumbledore actually knew their families, because I heard Daedalus hear him say to Dippet that they both could use the 'command experience'. As if prefects ever ended up commanding much! I mean, it's only hearsay, and it might have nothing to do with them being prefects, but I'm just passing it on so you'll know."
Julia leaned forward, imparting a little bit of Hogwarts gossip. "I think the Prewett matriarch is frustrated that neither of her boys get the position, though I'm sure both Paul and Peter are plain relieved. They're really not looking forward to the responsibility."
Hermione idly wondered whether Paul or Peter were Ron's grandfather or just his granduncles. Her forehead creased as she thought over it. It would seem that Dumbledore was pulling some strings for both Ceres and Bernadotte. Yet could she say that her and Ron's appointment as prefects wasn't the result of Dumbledore pulling some strings too? It wasn't as if Julia was saying that the two of them were bad prefects either—for all she knew, they might still have made it even without Dumbledore's additional support.
"Why did Dumbledore bring up 'command experience', anyway? And what about their family?" Hermione asked. To her surprise, Julia was grinning.
"I knew you'd wonder!"
"Julia?"
"Ahem. So, this isn't exactly common knowledge, alright? Ceres doesn't mention it because to her, it's better safe than sorry when she's considering the safety of her family. Bernadotte is much the same, though he comes from a more paranoid angle of never being sure where Grindelwald's agents are." She spoke softly while frequently eyeing the table; she was having a hard time picking between several available juices. At one point, Julia decided to just go with raspberry for now.
Hermione stared at the other witch with some uncertainty.
"Are you sure you should be telling me this?"
Julia patted her arm. "Hey, you're the one trying to coordinate a search for Grindelwald's base, right? You're fighting on the right side. Besides, if you're going after Grindelwald, sooner or later, those two are going to join you and you'd figure it out anyway."
"Alright, if you're sure." Hermione dubiously said.
"Yes. It's not top secret or anything, it's just like those war effort posters back at London, you know? 'Loose lips sink ships' and all, and the annoyingly missing road signs in Grandad's village. Gets more visitors lost than anything, than stopping non-existent Jerry parachutists, but what do I know of our government?" She was getting distracted with her own complaints on wartime Britain. Hermione was lead to conclude that Julia was either a muggleborn or a half-blood if she was still rather aware of the war outside the wizarding world.
The food appeared on the table, and Hermione heard the excited chatter from across the table as Eugenie spoke in rapid-fire French with Auguste.
"Ah! Poulet à la Provençale ! Let's see if they've managed to render it well," Julia said with almost the same amount of enthusiasm as the blonde Ravenclaw across her.
"Bernadotte must be weeping tears of joy at the Gryffindor table," Auguste remarked dryly.
"Well, I'll say it smells better than the old steak and kidney pie—which is currently making a return. Who on the high table keeps ordering it, anyway? I'll certainly take my chances with the Poulet," Lakshmi concluded from Auguste's other side.
"Oh my, it certainly seems like the kitchen managed to do the recipe justice," was Lucretia's comment. Her friends seemed to be interested in the chicken now that she'd rendered her opinion—not that Hermione thought Lucretia was even aware of her own influence.
It was hard not to be interested when it also smelled so good. Auguste Murat ended up being designated as the unofficial chicken carver and he bowed to the assignment with grace and competence. There was something captivating about the fluidity of his movements. It was the natural elegance of one who was taught to refine it from a young age, Hermione supposed. Julia helped herself to some once Auguste was done. She also helped pass some chicken to Hermione's plate too since she was closer. They lost themselves to the chicken for a while and it was worth it, as the flavours of the herbs could be tasted deep into the meat.
Julia spoke up again after a while.
"Anyway, here goes. From what I know, there's always a Victorinus in the Army or the Auror corps. Honourable people. The Bernadottes were also a martial family with their own honour, though a bit unusual to most." Julia said with a quieter voice. "I suspect many of them are in the Resistance right now in France."
Ah, that would explain their caution. It might also explain why Bernadotte is just as eager to go as Evariste is if he feels that his family is risking their life while he's safe over here.
"The Bernadottes are unusual?"
The other Ravenclaw pursed her lips, trying to find the words for it.
"Nowadays, some of them tend to enter be Hit Wizards or the Army. A few are in the Aurors, I heard but their oldest occupation is still mercenaries. They're loyal to a fault as long as people keep paying, though. I don't really care, but that bit tends to be one of those things polite society doesn't talk about, you know? So be careful not to mention it when our more…esteemed colleagues are around. Oh, and don't ever accuse Bernadotte of being a turncoat if you're not looking for a duel." Even at a hushed volume, Julia didn't lose her rapid-fire pace. It took some effort to follow, but her London accent was pretty comforting to Hermione as she continued to eat her chicken.
"Alright, the purebloods might look down on mercenaries. Got it." The brunette said in a daze.
"That's it. Bernadotte himself doesn't really care, but you know how some purebloods are…"
Hermione stared at her with wide eyes. Mercenaries? There were wizards (and witches) who were mercenaries? She didn't even know until now! Who would employ them, anyway? Also, how did the wizarding army work? Because as far as she knew, Britain only had the Auror corps. Did France actually not expect the Aurors to also be their army? Because Hermione's experience with the British Aurors was exactly that; they were also the armies of their society.
(Whether it was a good idea to unite responsibilities for policing and for subduing enemies of the state under one institution was a whole field of argument for another day).
Julia took a long draught of her raspberry juice before asking her next question with a too-relaxed attitude and her normal speaking voice.
"So, what's the story behind your flower crown?"
"What, this?" Hermione patted the garland on her head. She was suddenly aware of the many pairs of eyes that followed her movements. Ack. "Well, I was feeling rather morose in the afternoon, so I thought I'd wear it to make myself feel better. Because unlike a bouquet, the fragrance follows you where you go."
Julia was staring at her with uncertainty. Some of her bangs fell in front of her eyes and she pushed it aside easily.
"That's it?" She asked Hermione.
"Well…yes? Why else?"
"Because you have an admirer who chose to gift you with it?"
Hermione couldn't help but laugh, at least before she realised that Julia truly meant the question instead of making a joke. The time-stuck witch shook her head. "Come on, it's not exactly a crown of roses. That would be the queen of my heart or something, right? This is just, well, flattering, but nothing to be too excited about."
Julia suddenly turned to the people across the table.
"Eugenie, Murat, tell us something."
"Yes, Mademoiselle Goldstein?" His hazel eyes were calm.
"What is it, Julia?"
"Well, Hermione's flowers are wonderful, isn't it?" She started, letting the expected agreement came and went. She focused on the French wizard. "Now, tell me honestly, would you consider gifting such a crown to a witch you know without second thoughts? Say, to Hermione here?"
Eugenie stared at Julia with the desperate look of someone who wishes to wildly step on your foot but was unfortunately too far away to be able to do anything. Preferably before you ask the Hungarian Cultural Attaché for news about his wife when he'd just gotten divorced (this actually happened to Hermione),
Auguste only smiled, unbothered by the question. Hermione had a déjà vu to Michelangelo's statue of David from his beatific expression. He'd been observing her flower garland in the last few moments. She belatedly remembered why his last name was familiar; he was the son of the exiled French Minister for Magic.
"For one who is as…intellectually bright and compassionate as Mademoiselle Curie?" He turned to Hermione and spoke frankly. "Allow me to be direct, Mademoiselle. You are truly interesting, but I'm sorry to say that I cannot open myself to such a serious possibility before we know each other better."
Hermione was too confused to react. What?
"If you're actually interested in getting to know her further, Murat, then you should say so. She would appreciate the directness and it would remove any doubt about your interest." Lakshmi suddenly added.
Eugenie was biting her lip. "Auguste, don't let Lakshmi pressure you into anything you don't want to do," she nervously insisted.
Auguste Murat's movements were captivating because they were not merely elegant—they belonged to a wizard sure in his purpose. The dark-haired wizard did not disguise his dislike for the Vichy regime of France. Hermione overheard someone asking him earlier whether he was prepared to fight them. He answered with a resounding yes, even as he clarified that it did not mean he was stupidly suicidal as attacking them alone. He'll make a plan first.
"You need not worry for me, Eugenie. Chakravarty can only advise, but my choice is my own." He said this without looking away from Hermione. "I would like to be able to call upon you, Mademoiselle Curie, though I'll have to say that regardless of how spirited some of my countrymen could be, I certainly would not be reckless enough to offer you courtship right now."
"Courtship?" Hermione choked on the word.
He nodded, but with a casualness that hadn't changed. "That would be too fast for both of us, yes? Even if we knew each other by reputation, we are but acquaintances. I wouldn't dare to offer as far as the one who gifts you your crown, but if I were only to call on you and get to know you, it would not be so rushed."
Hermione was too relieved that he wasn't asking for a courtship that she almost forgot to answer him. At last until she felt Lucretia nudging her from the right, her long hair brushing Hermione's upper arm.
"I think you haven't answered him, Hermione," she spoke so softly that it was too easy to miss.
"Ah, certainly…Auguste, is it?" The brunette asked. "My answer is yes."
"Thank you, and yes, I'd prefer if you were to call me Auguste. May I call you Hermione, then?"
She nodded. "Of course. All my friends do so."
His smile was relaxed and in turn put her at ease. "Then I will be glad to name you among my friends, Hermione."
Hermione ignored Lakshmi's satisfied expression, or Eugenie's still-nervous one. She was just too glad that Auguste wasn't one of those impulsive love-at-first-sight wizards either—he only wanted to get to know her better. There's really no harm in having more friends, she thought.
That was before she tried to remember what Auguste said about 'the one who gifts you the crown'. He didn't dare to go as far as the one who did that when he and Hermione barely knew each other. What did he mean by that? After all, Tom only asked to be able to call on her, exactly the same as Auguste just did.
Right? Right?
Lucretia spoke up before Hermione had finished untangling her thoughts. "Well, at least we do know that Murat is a respectable family. They're not that old."
Hermione had to hold back a snort. Almost every other family is 'not that old' compared to the Blacks.
"They have historically unfortunate Bonapartist leanings too, but they are either ministers or department heads. They always end up leading at someplace in the government. I know that most regards Tom Riddle as an enigma, as—pardon the pun—a riddle, but anyone who would pay attention can see that he's going to rise and rise quickly once he's out of Hogwarts."
"That's nice to know," Hermione absently said, out of anything else to say and still too busy thinking.
She knew all that about Tom and tuned it out. But Hermione was honestly glad that they now have the contact for the French Minister for Magic in the form of Auguste. She was also glad for Lucretia's confirmation of how much connections Auguste would have. It would make coordinating the search for Grindelwald's headquarters run more smoothly. That was it.
"…I think you've been doing very well for yourself, Hermione, even if you only end up as friends." The Black heiress finished.
Hermione didn't quite get her conversation thread and she turned to the black-haired witch.
"Um, I'm sorry, Lucretia? I don't think I really get all that…"
"Oh! I must be murmuring again. I'm sorry. Well, I just thought that you already have Tom Riddle and Auguste Murat calling on you right now. It's not the courting stage, certainly. Yet you're still far closer to marriage than most witches had gotten with both, at the same time. It is rather nice to know that you've already managed so far, isn't it?"
Lucretia was stating all this dispassionately, as if she was merely tallying the current quidditch scores in a running game.
It was hard to be annoyed at her when she wasn't even encouraging Hermione to get married, or even to actually date either wizards. This was just another of her particular adaptations to pureblood life, a developed reflex—a moneylender easily knows how much cash he has on hand; a farmer knows how many days left until harvest, because that's the number of days left that he has to watch out for unexpected frost; an unmarried witch from a good family counts the wizards close to her and tallies their husband-worthiness regardless of her own interest in them.
It was an occupational hazard to being a witch in this era, much like a gazelle always remembers where all the predators on the plains are—well, that metaphor just turned morbid, didn't it?
"Would you like some of the blanc mange?" Lucretia offered Hermione dessert, this time with a lot more emotion in her voice than her previous careless and random observation of Hermione's prospective partners. Never mind that the heiress' calculations about potential were spot on.
"Yes please," Hermione said, feeling a headache coming on.
"Huh. I absolutely didn't expect that when I asked him about it, you know?" Julia commented from Hermione's left in a low voice. "I expected him to just say 'no', because ordinary friends don't do that…but I guess you've caught his interest. Um, congratulations, then?"
"Julia, he just wants to be friends," she pointed out with a long, tired sigh.
"Sure. But not many wizards bothered to officially call on you even when they're actually trying to get to know you. I guess it shows that he really came from one of those honourable families. Even if it doesn't get through, it would be a good mark on you. You have good luck, Hermione." Apparently, even Julia who was at most a halfblood is already well-attuned to the reflex.
The brunette rubbed her temples and wondered whether there's a term for jetlag that occurs from time-travelling. Technically, it was closer to a culture shock, but does saying it even make sense when you came from the same culture? It was…time-shock, maybe? Yes, that's it. Does drinking ginger tea help? Would it be better if she just lay down on her bed and sleep?
Hermione was pretty sure that her queasiness came from time-shock.
'-
The brunette found herself cursing the old-fashioned clock sounding the alarm, even though she set it herself. The fact that she was a light sleeper unless tired meant that she was the first to wake up to it. She Hermione sighed and pulled herself to a sitting position. She might as well turn it off and wake Eugenie herself. No need to wake everyone up just because the two of them had Advanced Astronomy class.
"Tempus," Hermione murmured, wand in hand.
She had already started padding barefoot across the dorm, to the bed nearest to the door. Pale green numbers floated up and announced that it was a quarter past twelve. It was technically the early morning of Friday rather than Thursday. She sighed. The vagaries of astronomy meant that everyone was at the mercy of the stars' and planets' schedule when it comes to direct observation (the one on their books today were the outer planets). The more theoretical part of the class can thankfully still be held at a more human and regular schedule. Like say, seven at night.
"Eugenie? Eugenie. Come on, wake up. We've got class at one out of all things."
'-
Hermione went down from her dorms with Eugenie, the both of them still yawning. If there was one benefit of Astronomy class, it was that no one had to wear their uniforms.
She was surprised at the number of people downstairs, though, considering that it was Advanced Astronomy. Shafiq was there, thanking a house elf who'd brought the tray as he passed on mugs of either coffee or tea to anyone who wanted one. Julia waved at Hermione, and as she approached, the time-stuck witch could smell the coffee wafting from the cup. She had no idea how Auguste Murat could look well-groomed—alright, to tell the truth, Hermione had no idea how Eugenie's blonde hair was still straight and shiny, but she chalked that up to her part-veela ancestry. There were other fifth-years as well as sixth-years that Hermione didn't recognise also milling about, bleary-eyed.
"I didn't know this many people took Advanced Astronomy," Hermione said, bewildered.
"Coffee? Tea?" Julia prompted out of nowhere, her voice was also the scratched sound of those only half-awake.
"Coffee, please and thank you." Hermione said.
"I'll take tea, and yes, thanks." Eugenie added. The blonde considered Hermione's question.
"Well, the advanced classes taught by the Heads do tend to end up with more of their house members than others. It's just…it blends over, you see? When you talk about the subject, sometimes you also end up talking about House matter and the opposite is also true." Eugenie said.
Julia went off to get a mug of coffee for Hermione and Eugenie.
"I guess it leads to their house members get an unexpected edge in the class. Or maybe, they simply feel comfortable enough to know that they can talk their troubles with the professor that they decided to take the risk of taking the advanced class."
They took their mugs from Julia gratefully. It did seem that the Ravenclaws were rather prepared to fortify themselves for Astronomy class compared with other Houses. They had the system of preparing hot coffee and tea ready, for one, along with some snacks. Hermione had thought to go down to the common room early to give herself enough time to wake up before she set off to class. With the unexpected number of students also taking Advanced Astronomy, it was proving to be a convenient time to chat too.
"So, what made you take Advanced Astronomy?" Hermione asked Auguste. He was wearing a neat jacket over his pyjamas and somehow the effect was still sharp. Damn Parisians, she wryly mused with unabashed envy.
"What made you take Advanced Astronomy?" He asked back.
"I take nine advanced classes because I enjoy learning and well, to be honest, not all the materials in these classes were new to me. I might as well get credit for what I already know. Now, what about you?" She shot back, before taking a long draught from her mug of coffee.
He hadn't expected her to answer so easily, nor did it seem that he had expected her answer at all. His smile was rueful and it took him a few moments to catch up.
"Your flower crown isn't a lie at all, is it?" He commented. Auguste explained further when she raised an eyebrow at him. "The tribute to 'intellectual beauty' and 'perfection'. Your admirer is certainly sharp to have realised that so soon."
"Oh, it's not exactly a secret that I'm taking nine classes. I'm sure everyone thinks I'm crazy." She shrugged the praise away easily. Auguste was not as easily diverted.
"Hermione, I took Advanced Arithmancy. Professor Lagrange was one of the teachers I respected even at Beauxbatons, and I did not exactly miss the depth of your answers there."
That made her blush. It would probably take some time before Hermione could adjust her arithmancy perspective to the level that was asked for in the class and she felt guilty when some parts of her answer were also something other students might find confusing.
"You're going to follow the steps of your father very well, aren't you, Auguste?" Hermione keenly observed.
"Why do you say that, Hermione?"
"You'd do well as a politician—you've successfully managed to evade answering my question."
She startled a laugh out of him before he answered her. "Ah, pardon me. When one is too used to dodging reporters, it becomes a habit after a while. Well, I took it because other than outright Divination, it's part of the Trifecta of Augury, of course."
"Trifecta of Augury?"
"Why, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and Astronomy," he stated. "Ancient Runes and Arithmancy is a broad field that has many other applications and purposes now, but the oldest branches of all of them has always been for trying to predict the future."
His expression was self-deprecating. "It's something useful for someone leading the government to study, yes? To see whether a course of action has good odds of success or not? To see whether there might be unexpected reactions to it? Perhaps if we'd done it properly before, we would not have been taken by surprise by Grindelwald."
That startled her to a pause, before she thanked Auguste for being honest with her.
He was surprised but also amused, thinking that they'd talked about something so trivial. "Think nothing about it, Hermione. We all have our reasons that draws us to the fields we find interesting."
It occupied her mind even as people started leaving for Astronomy Tower, with Hermione and Eugenie among them (Julia was catching up with some other sixth years).
Hermione had thought of divination as a load of rubbish, but that was before she found out that there were real seers in the wizarding world. Her time as an Unspeakable also put her in contact with people who study prophecies, and reading some of them, she could see how prescient they were. As always, the problem was that they were never too clear before the foretold events happened. Of course, the apparent 'gift' of divination wasn't actually something the possessor could use. It simply turned them into a weathervane of the time flow that were sometimes 'fortunate' enough to have future events shake them as the storms and bad weather of history occur.
A part of her that did not believe in mumbo-jumbo fortune-telling wanted to dismiss the idea of forecasting the future as impossible and a waste of time. Yet, what was meteorologists studying the weather and putting up predictions for the weather forecast about if not the same thing? They are trying to predict the state of the weather system at a particular time in the future, based on what they knew of the system in the present. The progress of modern arithmancy was such that the field had more in common with meteorologists than palm readers.
Hadn't she been charting history, calculating probabilities to see which events were close to inevitable at short-term and which were meaningfully changeable? What was she about to do in the present (past) that she was stuck in, if it wasn't changing the past with a lot of future prediction thrown in?
Considering that she'd never taken Advanced Astronomy before, she'd mostly known the field from all the star and planet and moon charts one ended up having to make. Other than for students too obsessed with their own zodiac, there hadn't been much material on trying to look ahead.
She realised that she couldn't go into Astronomy with her old suppositions of how improbable it was to forecast the future.
'-
Hermione went through the Astronomy class with the ease of one who knew what to expect. She'd made star charts before and had made the schedule for planets too. The change in her current class to making direct observations of the outer planets were interesting, though. It was one of the few times that she was surprised by how advanced some part of the wizarding world were compared to the muggle one.
There were telescopes in the Astronomy tower that can easily provide high resolution pictures of the gas giants as long as someone managed to find them and aimed them correctly. What she hadn't expected was the 'star lanterns' placed in front of the viewing hole that projected what the telescope sees on the wall across it. Well, the Astronomy Tower was covered with French windows on all seven sides, but there was a screen that can easily be moved around, and it was placed there now.
"So, has everyone found Uranus?" Professor Dexter asked. He actually seemed more refreshed than he seemed when they saw him at lunch at the high table. Various sounds of agreement and confirmation was heard.
"Right. Let's see if you have it right, then. We have the screen in place, now let's see if everyone has managed to find it or was just nodding along." Professor Dexter said this with a smile. "In case you're still looking, I'll give you a hint—it's on Taurus."
Hermione would swear that his usually placid expression was just a wee bit evil. She saw several pairs discreetly checking their telescopes again, hoping that they could find Uranus in time. The smarter ones straight out turned to their neighbours and asked for help. She and Eugenie certainly had no problems at all and had even fitted their star lanterns to their telescopes. All that was left was to activate it with a tap of their wand.
"Alright, now, turn it on everybody." Their Head of House directed.
Several lanterns at once projected the findings of their telescopes. Some hadn't had their lens adjusted that the planet was merely a bluish green blob. One picture was too faint and needed the light to be brightened. A pair of wizards sheepishly waved the flag of surrender and outright asked Professor Dexter for help. All the star lanterns turned on was excessive, of course—why would the class actually needed to see nine or ten pictures of Uranus? It was probably an indirect test, to see how many people could actually find the planet. Not that it was a bad thing—like the other gas giants, the planet was beautiful and mesmerising to watch.
That was when she noticed the bright spots. They weren't very big, but they were rather noticeable. She wasn't the only one, because she heard murmurs from her left and right.
"Ah, yes, you've seen the feature I want to discuss most! We're currently seeing the north pole now because the planet is extremely tilted compared to others, so those are polar storms. Now, I've counted the students in this class, and there's enough to make six groups of three. I've asked you to form them the last time, and they'll be your permanent group for the planet observations."
Their pale teacher cleared his throat. "Now, I'm not exactly forcing you to make a group with three members. You can choose to just pair up with someone. You can even choose to do it yourself, though I'd say that's pushing it. After all, do you really want to have to do all the night observations, six days a week, on your own? With two other people, all you'd be responsible for is two days!"
There were some chuckles of acknowledgement at that, and people had started moving around to pick their partners.
Hermione was lucky that when Eugenie was entrusted to be her guide by their House Head, she'd also arranged for that. The transfer student was in one with Eugenie and Julia.
"Keep up-to-date sketches on the planets, though I'll accept if you only do it six days out of seven—everyone wishes to have a time off. I'll promise to give anyone that does all seven days extra credit. You'll notice that I'm not just asking for sketches and observations on Uranus," he pointed out to the things he'd written out on the blackboard. "The gas giants are clearly a priority, because as you've seen with Uranus and as you'll soon see with a few others, they're experiencing storms across their surface. That's right, the spots you see? Those are storms. The two largest are certainly larger than the whole earth. Just in case you have no sense of the scale."
"All other homework would be individual ones. Don't worry, I wouldn't be giving many since I'm sure this is going to take up enough of your time."
Relieved sighs were heard all around.
"After we're done with the observations, we'll address their relative position around the sun along with the more traditional calculations of seeing which planet is close to other and which ones are perturbing each other's orbit. The usual."
He paused for a moment before continuing with a more jaded tone. "If you anyone wants to start writing each other's horoscopes, you can go right ahead as long as you keep it out of the report book. I don't need to know who's currently being unlucky in their love life."
There were some snickers, but the class was mostly well-ordered as they started.
'-
Hermione stayed to read records at the Astronomy Tower's library after the class was over.
Tom did come to her side and asked her what she planned on doing. She said she wanted to 'check some things'. It was enough for him and he left with the other students. Professor Dexter was slightly baffled, but he let her as he left for either his office or his quarters once more. She was flattered that he'd entrusted her with the key.
Contrary to other classes and to what people may think, the homework for astronomy wasn't useless. The best of the students' works and records were actually archived. Her Advanced Astronomy class wasn't the first to have to draw the clouds of Jupiter and the rings of Saturn, or to note the current position of the planets. There had been generations before her and their records filled shelves.
There was an itch at the back of her mind that she needed to scratch, a pattern that she couldn't help seeing. At first, Hermione was sure she was wrong. She was imagining things, surely? The human mind loves connections and it might have seen something that wasn't there. Still, since she knew what she was looking for, it only took her an hour to go through the records of the last several decades and read the ones she wanted.
'-
Hermione knew this was the wee hours of the morning. Considering that she was knocking the quarters of the astronomy professor who was never seen before lunch, he was probably still awake.
Her guess was true. Orpheus Dexter opened the door to his quarters, looking mildly distracted.
"Hermione? Is there anything I can do for you?"
She had her bag, of course, with several scrolls filled with notes from her using the copy spell on the records of previous students. Hermione could not stop the gravity of her thoughts from influencing her tone. She stared him head on, with a confidence that was not common among people her physical age.
"How long have you known?" She asked.
He let her in out of puzzlement but kept the door open. Considering that the room had a magical heating system, he did not exactly need to worry about the draught. His long braid almost got caught at an umbrella handle on the umbrella stand as he turned around, but he absently pulled it away.
"How long have I known what? Please, take a seat, Hermione."
"Mars is ascending," Hermione quoted. He did not seem to consider there was anything problematic with what she was saying and nodded in agreement.
"Well, it is. It's going to keep getting bigger and bigger as we see it get closer and closer to earth."
"I found a copy of an old report of yours for the Ministry from almost a decade ago, made under the name of the Royal Society of the Sages of Stargazers—it was before you accepted the teaching post at Hogwarts. In that report, you said: Mars is ascending, caution is warranted. The interpretation on the storms of Uranus is to watch out for the occurrence of a primal chaos. Saturn exhibits a chain of storm at subtropical latitudes—prolonged struggle before renewal. If an upcoming conflict can be solved with negotiation, it should be settled so. The Ministry should carefully monitor discontent and dissatisfaction among the people and address their concerns promptly."
Hermione generally remembered it, though she did occasionally glance to the scroll she was carrying to make sure that she hadn't missed anything. The last line, though, was something she remembered all too well.
"Anything left to brew and ferment will explode into a prolonged armed conflict."
Professor Dexter's smile was tired. For all that he looked as if he was in his thirties, wizarding longevity informed her that he could easily be a decade or three over that.
"Mars would be at its closest in 1943," he replied, quoting from the same report verbatim, "we can only relax our guard once that year passes."
"You wrote all that in 1933. They didn't listen to it, did they?" Hermione noted. He sighed, closing his grey eyes as he rubbed his forehead.
"Why should they? We were only minor diviners, astronomers. None of us had a prophecy."
"You knew the war was coming." She stated.
He shook his head. "No, we don't."
"But I thought—"
"Well, we hoped it wasn't a war, as it was one of the worst outcomes that could happen. For all I knew it could be a plague, a volcanic explosion, a prolonged cold spell for the whole planet that would mean longer winters for several years, an unexpected famine."
"Professor," Hermione said firmly. "You mentioned Mars. The report by the team you lead mentioned the increasing storms or the turbulence of the storms in Jupiter and Uranus at some point. I find it hard to believe that your first concern wasn't war and was famine instead."
"But it wasn't strictly Mars, that was why we were all worried enough to sit together and write a joint report," Dexter corrected. "Saturn, after all, heralds the death and rebirth cycle natural to agricultural societies. Yet nowhere it is required that the process be peaceful. In many mythologies, the death of old deity in winter and the rebirth of the young deity in spring is usually violent. If I remembered correctly, I'm sure there was a conjunction between the planets mentioned somewhere in the report too."
Hermione nodded in surprise, realising his point.
"Saturn exhibits a chain of storm," she repeated. He smiled at her comprehension.
"Exactly. We saw the potential for a downward spiral of chaos alright, the 'death' phase of the death-and-rebirth cycle, along with the possible rise of conflict in society. Famine would still fit the bill for all three. Even if it only affected the muggle world, it would also bring difficulties to us—the wizarding world simply does not realise just how much we buy from them. Even if we grow more than enough food for ourselves, we still buy many other products from them. Or it could have been a Plague. If it was deadly enough or the death toll high enough, it could easily cripple the magical government—and chaos would ensure. It would also still fit the theme of death and rebirth."
He paused, his clear eyes meeting her gaze after a moment of thought.
"How many key officials do you think you'd need to take out from the wizarding government before chaos hits, Hermione? Before someone decides that it's the perfect time to usurp the Ministry and take power? It's not as many as you think. There, now you have your armed conflict to go with the plague."
The blond professor spoke this with his quiet, even tone, but it only made the images he drew more chilling. He had been considering the possibilities much longer than she did. Perhaps it never went away from the back of his mind through these years, his own personal ghost haunting him.
Dexter sighed.
"My colleagues were incensed when they heard that our report was only read, and yet nothing came out of it. But I've always been more aware than they are that our field is too vague. We know something big can come up, but we can't exactly narrow down the possible what to others. You can get better details with arithmancy these days, or even the old-school use of ancient runes." His smile was rueful.
"That's why I resigned and decided that I can make a greater difference teaching the next generation to read the skies."
"Did you figure that out from reading your horoscope?" She asked.
He chuckled. "No. I asked for a friend of mine to run arithmantic calculations on the three paths that occurred to me then. To divine with astronomy is to paint with the broadest and most sweeping brush. It is actually not too suited for personal forecasting. Well, you can see whether something sinister or something challenging lurks in the future, but there's not enough details to do something about it, you know?"
She had never truly considered that the head of her house could have had another life before Hogwarts, that he was not just a sedate professor more occupied with teaching and grading homework. He had seen something, read a warning with his skills. It was just a pity that he hadn't been heard before, and the degree of ignorance from the Ministry was enough to make him reconsider his career.
"So, what do you think about the war, then?" Hermione asked.
"It's exactly as you've read before. There's no way that it will be over before 1943. I doubt that it will be over even at 1943." He tapped his nose in thought. "Daedalus told me what you were doing. I didn't pass it on to the other teachers because I don't see why it has to be their business. I wish you good luck, Hermione. You'd need it."
She stiffened slightly, "what I'm doing?"
"Searching for Grindelwald. I hold to my prior position, though. As I've said, this won't be over before 1943. Thus, I foresee that you have at least a long, tiring year looking for him and finding nothing." He said. He did not seem judgmental or interfering at all, and Hermione relaxed at that.
"Now I want to hold off the search until the middle of 1943." She jokingly complained.
He grinned. "No, that would just push back your results by another year. Sometimes, there's simply no substitute for hard work."
"Urgh. My finding the report wasn't of much use at all, then." The brunette groaned.
The expression on her Head of House's face was now more serious than she'd seen him.
"Your timing was wrong. If you had read it before it all began—assuming you were already born and active, of course—you might be able to head things before it descends into the current mess. Now? Now that ball has been rolling for a while, carrying its own momentum. Mars is already ascending, perturbing earth's orbit. If you were to stop it now, you'd need not a little amount of effort."
He shrugged helplessly. "Though again, whether you could figure out what was wrong based on our vague warning is an entirely different matter."
"Ah, I see. Thanks for clarifying things, professor, and I'm sorry to have bothered you at this hour."
Dexter smiled back at her. "I don't mind. Not many realises the potential of astronomy. As for this unnatural hour, well, unfortunately an astronomy teacher is also a rather unnatural creature. It would actually be difficult to find me at a normal hour."
Hermione laughed a little herself before she took her leave. It was when he'd escorted her to the door that the professor gave her his last words.
"Hermione?"
"Yes, Professor?"
"Keep going in the direction you're at right now. You're doing the right thing." He said.
Well, that was rather unspecific. "Um, thank you, I guess."
His farewell smile was mysterious. "And give my regards to Tom Riddle. He's better off listening to you than only his naked and uncontrolled ambition."
Before Hermione could ask for clarification, the door closed behind her.
"What—What on earth did he mean by that? He can't just say that and leave!" She complained to no one in particular. Of course, the corridors remained silent and no answer was forthcoming.
'-
.
[1]
~ End of First Arc – Adaptation ~
~ A ~
.
.
End Notes:
Additional Notes:
Auguste Alexis Murat (OC):
Fifth-year Ravenclaw, French transfer from Beauxbatons. The classes that he shares with Hermione are ADADA, Advanced Arithmancy and Advanced Astronomy. His name came from Caesar Augustus—yes, that's an emperor's title, and it's rightly imperial in aura. He is the son of the French Minister for Magic in Exile. The French Minister for Magic in France right now is certainly someone affiliated with the Vichy government and is a collaborator with Grindelwald. Generally level-headed, he already has a lot of practise in politics because his family has historically been statesmen and bureaucrats.
'-
On calling and courtship (cultural background construction):
In case it's not clear, I did end up making three official, old-school relationship stages to exist that's not outright marriage. The first is for a wizard to only be a gentleman caller, the 'getting to know you' phase. The second is outright courting, where the wizard declares serious intent. The third is clearly engagement, where everyone expects to end in marriage.
I can't imagine that marriage is casual affair in a culture that prizes bloodlines (and more rarely, talent), especially back in 1940s, so I decided that the wizarding world is still somewhere in very late 18th/ first half of 19th century on this.
In 19th century England, what exists is generally the courting and engagement stage. Why? Because even a close friendship between two people of the opposite sex might end up getting lumped into courting by observers. Yes, they all have marriage on their minds because marriage is Serious Business among the gentry back then. I thought I'd give the characters less drama by making up a third, lesser step compared to those two.
I reason that the wizarding world can afford be a bit more laidback on the issue of getting young people married compared to the non-magical culture it's embedded in, since their life expectancy can easily reach twice of non-magical humans. There's plenty of time for anyone to settle down, have kids, before it's too late.
The magical means of contraception are generations away from crude methods used by non-magicals even in the mid-20th-century. It might as well be space-age tech when compared to cultures from older eras/lower on the technology tree. These lower the odds of witches getting pregnant—or knocked up by the 'wrong' people. So, even if the norms of local non-magical population do tend to seep in and change the local wizarding community, these would be factors that help relax it. Even if any pair of youngsters from the opposite sex get too close, it does not automatically mean that they needed to be married to each other immediately.
More cultural notes:
(seriously, skip this if you're not that into worldbuilding. Jump straight to the notes after this on planets/astronomy, if that's your cup of tea)
I realised that more than one pre-20th century cultures—and even some 20th century cultures—places a premium on female virginity/has restrictions on female premarital sex. Well, I don't think the wizarding world will be enamoured of the idea for very long. Why? The first, as I've said before, is because they have very effective and efficient methods of contraception, so unexpected pregnancies can be greatly reduced. The other is due to the level of healing/tissue reconstruction magic; restoring the hymen is probably just one spell away (no matter how complicated or long that spell might be, I bet it's not hard to find a mediwitch, mediwizard or nurse that has mastered it).
In this case, it merely becomes a cosmetic attribute, doesn't it?
'-
On the planets:
(astronomy related stuff—I have no idea who's still reading at this point, but making these are almost compulsive for me at times)
Mars is indeed closest to earth (and thus seems largest) at July 2018, August 2003 and September 1988. I extended that backwards to 1973, 1958 and 1943. If anyone has a more precise astronomical calculation that shows my calculation of the super-Mars to be off my a few years (1941, maybe?), they're welcome to message me with their source.
If you wish to see Uranus (and Jupiter) in the sky sometime in October 1942 around the latitude of Northumberland (as that's roughly where I locate Hogwarts), you'd be best served to check after midnight. The planet is not visible after sunset. In 1942, Uranus would be mostly presenting its north pole towards earth.
The storms of Saturn and Uranus wasn't generally visible in detail before the 1960s since telescopes weren't strong enough. I've found no record on their storms before that because, well, there hadn't been much record, if there's even any record at all. I'm making such records up here, of course, but for all I know there might actually be storms at the outer planet in the 1930s and 1940s.
'-