Author's Notes:
Random stuff: I'd like to go to the clinic sometime soon, but the Covid-19 visitor restrictions for clinics and hospitals is cramping my style. It's nothing urgent, but still, an annoyance. Oh well. Just wish me luck that at least I'd stay inspired enough to keep writing more chapters for this. Apologies if the End Notes isn't enough. The Black Dog (to quote Churchill) got its teeth into me and it was already a good thing I only lost a day or two.
Anyway, thanks for the heartfelt reviews! Sorry if I haven't managed to reply to them right now.
'-
71 La Recherche
Hermione and the European Tracking Map. The Map and a little flashback. Auguste Murat's day in the spotlight. Musings on Hermione's character. In which he realises that she's stranger than he had first thought. Auguste tracks down Tom to ask some questions after class.
'-
Hermione did not linger in the Great Hall when lunchtime began. Her plan had always been just to sit down, ensure that her hunger was satiated and her stomach well-provisioned, before setting off again. The change in menu did drew her notice, though. There were slightly more meat dishes than usual, and several puddings…
"I've never gotten used to Hogwarts' end-of-year spread. I'm certainly not complaining though." Lakshmi bit some golden poached pears with a happy moan. More than one student turned towards her at the sound.
"End-of-year spread?" Hermione asked.
"Well, you know, December? The house elfs certainly increased the quality of our daily menu, not just the weekend ones." Lakshmi commented.
Hermione had almost forgot in her rush of activity that December was indeed dawning. The prefects look a little more harried than usual. She'd seen more house elfs darting to-and-fro on her way to class earlier, carrying what seemed to be endless chains of evergreen anywhere she walked. She had to commend them on their industriousness in the morning, particularly when the sun was rising later and later this season.
This far north, the sun hadn't even risen when the first class started. It was no wonder that more people look half asleep in Kettleburn's class this morning.
"Oh, yes. No wonder the house elfs are putting up evergreen garlands. It's that time of the year again."
"A time of feasts!" Adil Shafiq agreed with her easily as he took some roast chicken breast for his own plate. "Do you want some chicken? I'll pass some over."
"Sure, I'd like to try some. Thanks, Adil."
"You're welcome, Hermione."
She couldn't see where Lucretia was—the seventh year wasn't merely sitting away; she doesn't seem to be in the Great Hall yet either. Lakshmi waved her concern away easily, saying that Lucretia had a busier social calendar than most people.
"It's usually Walburga…or one of the Ravenclaw pureblood cliques from sixth or seven years wheedling for her company. You know, the usual." had been Lakshmi's explanation. It did sound like something Lucretia would do, so she simply moved on from it. Oddly enough, Eugenie wasn't here yet either. Sometimes, she did have prefect meetings that took place before lunch, but that wasn't frequent.
Perhaps there were some preparations the prefects need to do too, she mused. It wouldn't surprise her.
She mused about it for a moment or two, but after that her lunch occupied her attention more, as was her chat with Lakshmi, Adil, and a few other Ravenclaws who also happened to be her classmates in different classes. Julia would've loved being right in the middle of a class discussion with Hermione, but she was unlucky enough not to be here right now and Hermione spared her a moment of pity.
After that, she made her way to the room they've taken over for the Search's headquarters.
'-
As Hermione was walking towards the repurposed empty classroom that was the headquarters, she knew very well what the centrepiece of the room was.
It was the Map.
The European Tracking Map (as she called it in her head) was spread across practically one entire wall, a splendid result of spellcraft, ingenuity and hard work. Hermione could probably turn it in as her Advanced Charms final project once it was done, but she wouldn't do it. She wasn't about to take away the opportunity of making the Marauder's Map from the Marauders.
It wouldn't have been fair, especially not when Sirius' notebook was the foundation of her current work. Harry had unearthed it from Grimmauld Place sometime in her past/future. He had managed to follow the notes there, troubleshoot and experiment with other spells when there were unexplained gaps in the methodology with Hermione, and together they reconstructed and improved the method to make a tracking map of London.
It would be useful, that was what they'd think in passing. After all, Aurors would inevitably need to track people down, right?
As she spent little bits and pieces of her time on the European Tracking Map, over the span of days and weeks, fragments of memories related to the original Map that she worked on with Harry returned to her. She remembered now how it had gone down.
The technical part was surprisingly less complicated than the human part. Well, mapping the entire breadth and depth of Greater London completely was also a work-in-progress that would take years to finish, but that wasn't much of a concern. Most people would find it hard to avoid the streets, for one, and linking the map with the physical streets was something they had the procedure down pat, and as such, Harry usually just outsourced the rest of the efforts to the younger, more junior Aurors. They can just keep improving it year by year, and it would easily track most of the people they'd want to track once they have the personal item/blood to track with.
Making the map itself was challenging, but it wasn't as intractable as the issue of privacy.
A lot of the Aurors she who heard it was gung-ho in trying to get a fragment of everyone's personal belonging or self (hair, nail clippings, and sometimes even blood) that she and Harry had to pre-emptively stop other people from doing it before they figured out the privacy policies of the wizarding world. Well, she, Harry and anyone else with the slightest knowledge of the non-magical world, which mostly meant the muggleborns.
"I can't believe I have to say this, but nobody wants the DMLE to be able to track every single people, 24 hours a day and anytime in the year!" Harry had to yell at one point. "For fuck's sakes people, has none of you read 1984?"
That wasn't their only concern, of course. Another concern was that there was no telling who will become the next Minister for Magic, or the next one after that. Who knows what sort of person will hold the post in the future?
Neither of them would want to grant the Minister the ability to track all magical citizens willy-nilly.
But that excuse might not be considered important even by the current Minister then (not that Hermione could even remember who it had been…) It wasn't such a strange thing, she supposed, to see that people in power would grasp for more power. Their plan at that time would be to build time limits to the tracking, embed it in a way that others wouldn't see.
Fortunately for them, it was a good thing that they next noticed the weirdness of the Marauder's Map.
It could track people indefinitely…and yet, when they tried following its methods down pat for the London map, it caused their tracking attempts to fizzle out after a while. Harry was pulling his hair out over it. Hermione, being the one who studied magical theory and spellcraft in depth between the two of them, started breaking the charms and spells used to isolate their individual functions. It only happened fast enough (in the order of two months even then, because they still had their actual work to do) because she managed to break down the problem and pass parts of it to her Unspeakable co-workers.
That was when she realised that the way the Marauder's Map was constructed, it was also designed to link up with the wards on the grounds and channel power from Hogwarts. Not to mention that all Hogwarts staff and students would have their blood recorded in their Hogwarts' contract of employment or enrolment—this was far more potent than mere hair, nail clippings or most random personal belonging. Both documents would be kept in a particular cabinet in the Headmaster's Office. As long as the Marauders' can connect the Map with the contracts, it would not be too difficult to track anyone whose blood was there.
(She vaguely remembered the long-standing arguments about whether a place as old as Hogwarts, with such a high concentration of magic, actually had such a thing you can call its own genius loci or not…)
Hermione found herself laughing in relief when she realised that, and she could see a similar expression in Harry's face when she passed him the news. The London Tracking Map wouldn't be able to do anything close to the Marauder's Map. They didn't have anywhere near the permanent access to blood that was retained and preserved by magic. Hogwarts wasn't a simple place mostly bereft of magic like London either—to enter it is to be immersed in it. Even the air of Hogwarts was still part of Hogwarts.
"Man, they piggybacked a lot of the tracking details and tendencies on Hogwarts itself, didn't they?" She remembered Harry wondering.
"Yes, yes they did," she'd answered, in great relief.
In the end, the London Map was decent enough in tracking down anyone whose personal identifying sample they had access to…but the next thing Hermione did after that was look-up some regulations from the non-magical world on how long they could keep such samples, and when they needed to be destroyed once a trial was over.
She was not about to let the wizarding world set a precedent on holding other people's physical material indefinitely.
It took a while to compile such a legal draft—mainly from copious copy-pasting of similar, non-magical world regulations and then modifying them to fit the wizarding world context. It helped that she can bring in other muggleborns and halfbloods to pitch in, what with it not being that complicated. It was mostly a copy-and-edit effort. After that, the hard work of getting it to pass was off her shoulders—it was Draco's wheelhouse, what with him being Lord Malfoy of the Wizengamot. For all that Harry also held the seat of House Potter, he was nowhere near as deft in politicking.
"Merlin, just tell me how I need to vote, Hermione, but please don't ask me to…mingle." He'd shuddered outright at that. Draco, of course, laughed his backside off at Harry's reaction.
"Don't be such a pansy, Potter. Those ladies can't hurt you."
Harry only shuddered. "Yeeeaaahhh no. Some of the older widows are really freaking scary."
She had the vague recollection of numerous evenings spent in pubs or restaurants with Draco as he appraised her of his progress or what the latest obstacle was. It had been easier to get pureblood support than she'd expected, but Draco had only snorted when she expressed it one day.
"Really? I thought it was obvious, Granger."
"No, not really. Those who are well-established are usually in favour of Law and Order. You know, how the law applies to the rich and poor equally, which is why they're equally forbidden from sleeping under bridges, begging or panhandling and stealing bread?" Her tone was sweet yet laced with irony. She wasn't that disconnected from the non-magical world—Hermione was quite aware of the general thrust of Tory politics in Britain.
Draco chuckled; amusement bright in his eyes.
"You're not wrong. But you remember who are still under a cloud of suspicion even now for collaborating against that last dark lord, don't you?"
"Ah! So, you used that angle!"
Paranoia. He used the pureblood families' fear of persecution after all the brouhaha of many of their involvements with Voldemort (only a little of that fear is rational—most weren't).
Harry's nod was knowing. "Yeah. All I had to do was point out how some overly zealous Auror would want some pureblood heads to roll, and suddenly they're 'very concerned about 'excessive concentration of power in law enforcement'"
In the end, London Tracking Map became something that was useful and yet not too creepy or overreaching. When it came to the European Tracking Map, it didn't even have to do something as complicated as the Auror's London map needed to—to track people live. It was 'merely' a graphic display of aggregated information on Grindelwald's forces. There was nothing real-time about it. To construct it from what she remembered of Harry's map project that she helped with wasn't a notable problem for her.
There was a method to note down a report about Grindelwald's base of operations, or the lack of anything like it, for a particular location or area, and then imprint that into the map. (Main command, Inscribo, with other descriptors tacked on as necessary). There was a related phrase that started with the main command of Revela/Revelate (for all commands that asked the map to reveal things) that would light the map up on parts where there are news/reports recorded.
(Revelate descriptiones omnium scriptorum)
Light grey was for places where there was no news of his movements at all, greyish blue for places where he or his main forces had been sighted, and light blue for where there are clues of groups of his people lodged there. This can be as common as the record from the butcher of purchases of enough meat to feed ten people for at least a week, to something as rare as approval of construction of something new from a mayor's office.
The brightest blue was only reserved for a master edit, when several pieces of clues support the possibility that there was a base of Grindelwald's forces somewhere. Currently, she was the only one with the knowledge of how to do that, because data gathering was a particular skill in its own right, and she didn't know if many Hogwarts students could do it. She certainly didn't have the time to teach it.
This was why she was not surprised when she entered the Search's classroom and saw someone standing in front of the Map, albeit with a bowed head, probably reading through one of the instruction-scrolls she'd left behind. With neat dark hair and upright figure, Hermione thought she could recognise him (the deep black lustre of his Hogwarts robe was another clue). She approached him without hesitation.
"Good afternoon! You're writing in more information, Auguste?"
"Ah, Hermione! Good afternoon to you too. Yes, I was just writing in what's been passed on this morning and last night."
She had no doubt that his smile would reassure anyone who saw him. It wasn't just that he looked like he stepped out of the silver screen of this era, with the solid shoulders of a gallant leading man. There was also a steadiness to Auguste that most wizards his age had yet to figure out. Hermione was simply glad that he was dependable—it was certainly a lot more convenient for her.
"Hmm, so whose information is it this time?" The brunette stood next to him and glanced down.
He was holding one of her instruction scrolls in his hand, and he'd spread several scrolls on the table in front of him—some were handwritten, one was in his handwriting, while others were by more feminine hands.
"Oh, these? Mostly Blankenstein's and Alsing's." Auguste answered. "They are rather prolific correspondents. There's also a variety of letter excerpts from the others too."
It took her a second to figure out who he was talking about, ah, Beatrix, the blonde, no-nonsense Slytherin chaser in her ADADA class. That would make Alsing as…Wilhelmina von Alsing—Mina, Beatrix's best friend. She was the brunette with a cheeky smile.
Hermione returned her gaze back to the scrolls he'd unrolled.
Most were clearly the result of verbatim quills, though—she'd recognised its 'generic handwriting' font after using it so often. The letters were too regular in shape, and even the few irregularities would repeat after a while. Not everybody took the time and effort to train it with their own handwriting. So far, the only other person she knew who did that apart from herself was Tom. Hermione had seen Daedalus' meeting notes; he'd only partially trained his to look somewhere between the generic handwriting and his own. It would seem that he'd stopped once it looked distinct enough instead of going all the way.
Perhaps most people think it's too complicated to bother with? Was she being too perfectionist about it? She shook the irrelevant thought away.
"Ah, so, everyone had asked their family members in Germany?"
"Yes. Most had some feedback from the various cousins they corresponded with. I haven't checked all of them, though, so I don't know how useful any of it could be."
Hermione shrugged, undeterred by the possibility. "At the very least, it would also help us eliminate locations."
"That's true."
'-
He'd turned around and spotted her with no problem. The curly head of hair made it obvious, not to mention her long, unrestrained strides. They chatted for a bit, he showed her what he was doing.
Hermione Curie entered the Search's headquarters at Hogwarts' lunch break, not long after dinner had progressed. Auguste Murat was a little impressed. He'd eaten some hors d'œuvre and appetizers, with a little salad, simply because he wanted to get this over with first. He still fully intended to sit down for his entrée and dessert later.
He'd seen how Hermione often enough, being Housemates and dining at the same general area of their House table. When she had something that she needed to do, she ate with the same speed that the Aurors his father knew did. She didn't even blink about missing desserts, and he knew many seventh-years who would not do that. If he hadn't been watching, he'd have thought that she'd inhaled the food outright, as they disappeared from her plate quickly. Auguste suspected she did more-or-less the same thing this time.
Her willpower was the sharp edge of a scalpel. She could cut away many little things in her life easily, without pity or remorse, if it was in service of her purpose.
Even now, Hermione, being Hermione, picked up some of them and started inscribing them on the map at the same time. When she was done with one, she continued on to the next, on and on.
It was certainly faster with two people working—he couldn't argue with that.
This was just one of her habits, like how she was almost always one of the earliest risers in their House. He'd asked her from time-to-time when he happened to be up too, wondering why she had to wake up so early. It couldn't be homework—she'd always gotten them down at least days before. Sometimes she said that she only wanted to catch up with some reading. Yet half the time, the things she was reading into were too obscure even for the materials related to the Advanced Classes that he took.
He had not the slightest idea what the 'Navier-Stokes equations' were about, for one, and he was in her Advanced Arithmancy class, and yet it was something that Hermione said that she needed 'a refresher' on.
He made the mistake of asking her what it was about, roughly, and she only smiled and said 'It explains the character of flowing water—well, moving fluids in general. It doesn't have to be water'.
That had seemed manageable that he asked her to illustrate what it's about. Her arrows represent flow in water/fluids with a particular speed, he could understand. Streamlines was still intuitively understandable to a degree. Yet once she started scribbling the Greek symbols and touched on viscosity, shear and who-knows-what, it might as well be hieroglyphics to him.
"Why am I talking about waters and rivers? Well, you see, history can be modelled as a river flowing through time, with events being incidences and turbulences inside them, and people as objects moving in them. But the variables you have to consider, though…"
Auguste stopped her right there, taking advantage of the lull that occurred while she was thinking. He thanked her for her explanation and carefully suggested other topics of conversation. He understood now why you can't calculate the potential future of too many people in tandem, though. It truly became eye-wateringly complicated. More pertinent questions bubbled in his mind, though.
Where did she study it? Back in Norway?
It was far too advanced than any student like them would ever need, or even any average bureaucrat in the Ministry of Magic would ever need, for that matter. He'd know. He talked with his father often enough about ministry-related topics.
Why did she even need to study it in the first place? Under whom?
He could not imagine anyone less than a Master in Arithmancy being able to teach it. Perhaps it even required a Grandmaster, who would know? What were the magicians in the wizarding circle at Kopervik like? He'd tried passing the question upwards to his father, to see if he'd heard something, but there didn't seem to be much—barely any.
Which was…odd, for a place that had managed to educate someone like Hermione. He would bet that her friends, the ones she avoided talking much about, were no less interesting or strange than her.
The more answers you understand about Hermione, the more questions you have about her too. It felt as if he had entered an infinite loop with it…or perhaps endless sequence of boxes nested within other boxes. That had been the first time he'd seen how her knowledge could be completely arcane. It wouldn't be the only time where her explanation started from something basic and understandable, evolving into something more complex, and ended at a completely byzantine spot he couldn't make much heads or tails about.
There was that time in Advanced Astronomy that began with Thompson Ackers complaining about why they have to keep re-observing Mercury's orbit, for one…
Her viewpoint had always been forward, far—to a future only she could foresee or fathom. Her driven performance in the present is a function of her fealty for that ineffable goal.
'-
"Hermione?"
She hummed in reply, "Yes?"
"How do you show all the locations we've recorded on the map?"
"Oh, it's not that hard. Revelate descriptiones omnium scriptorum." She casted. It was a straightforward spell; he supposed it helped that he'd studied Latin and could understand that. The hand movements, on the other hand, were a tad more complicated. He'd ask her to repeat it several times for him later.
The map lit up in several places, mostly central and north Germany, but there were a few areas in southeast France too (he supposed that Pip and Ceres had already had some feedback and entered that in). There was a smattering of highlighted areas in Ile-de-France (not a surprise, most of them had families in the Paris region), as well as other places in central France and beyond. They were all of a light grey colour, though—not that it had been unexpected.
Only predictably disheartening, Auguste supposed with the easy calm of a cynic.
"Well," he mused out loud, "Even if we limit ourselves to France and Germany, it's is still a large area to cover, isn't it?"
"We've just started too. This is a solid beginning, really."
Hermione was undaunted—the fire was still there in her eyes. If it had been anyone else, it might be unexpected, but not when it was Hermione.
"Perhaps…" he murmured, noncommittal.
"I was planning on contacting an Auror to coordinate on this. It'd be more practical if neither of us double up on the places that are already searched or covered by the other. We'd give them copies of our records too from time-to-time, so that to assist us would also be a win for them."
"You know of an Auror?" His eyebrows rose. She certainly moves fast.
The brunette witch confirmed.
"I do. I'm quite sure this would pique his interest. Well, I was planning on contacting him next weekend, but you've made me curious enough that I'll see if I can arrange a meeting sometime this week."
There wasn't the slightest bit of worry or concern in her voice. Somehow, it did not surprise him that even though she was an orphan without connections when she first came here, she'd figured out enough of Hogwarts' system now that she could even leave the school on a weekday without much concern. He did wonder which teacher would allow her to do so. Probably Slughorn—he's too nice to all the over-achievers in his class, as well as the more excellent students of his House.
"I'm looking forward to seeing this map fill up with even more lights after that."
Their conversation fell into quietness once more, but it wasn't an uncomfortable one. Hermione concerned herself with entering more location sightings or information once more, and Auguste did the same. It wasn't a complicated task, other than perhaps dictating the details to be entered, and his mind was free to wander most of the time. There was something about Hermione's exuberance that made him worry for her, though.
"You do know that we might not be able to cover most of either France or Germany in a year, right? Even if we include the data from other sources?" Auguste asked.
She nodded firmly. Her curls bounced in a way that he might think was cute if he paid attention. As for him, he didn't, simply because he did not want to tangle with Tom Riddle. It was just going to bother his steady school days.
"Oh, I know." she said.
"We might simply fail to locate him."
Hermione placed a hand on her chin in thought, tilting her head slightly. "Well, I did have a plan for that…"
Yet she continued to enter more excerpts and information instead of elaborating. He placed the current note he was working with on the table and turned to her, giving his full attention.
"What would that plan be?"
"Uh, what?"
"The plan? If he or his forces stay untracked, unfound?"
Brown eyes widened slightly. He'd caught her by surprise for some reason.
"Well, I'd be doing my best to cover the areas that are still uncovered, of course! Add the information we've been missing. Then, I'll also clarify or double-check the ones that seemed to have potential, but still too vague for us to be certain." Her reply was animated.
"And how would you do that?" He enunciated each word with care.
"Do what?"
"Collect the information for the missing or uncovered areas? Reverify the first data?" Auguste's smile was still on his face, but he was as alert as he'd be in any ambassadorial party. For some reason she was trying to edge around a direct answer, and he had a good instinct for that. He thought she'd try to dodge for a while, but after some seconds of silence, she sighed instead. Then the jittery edge to her evaporated in that moment.
"Well, I'd do a field check, obviously." Hermione answered, her expression a touch wry.
A pause.
I must have misunderstood something, was his first thought as he tried to keep his thoughts together. "A field check. Done by…people in the field?"
"If only we have that luxury. I think even the Aurors in London are quite occupied right now, I can't envision them getting less busy in the upcoming year or so. No, it's probably me, and a few others." She shrugged with a humility he almost couldn't believe was real (but he knew it was).
"You."
Hermione nodded. He couldn't figure out why she still looked so cheerful.
"Yes. Me."
"You're going to France?" His voice didn't rise up, but that was because he had excellent control over his expressions.
"Yep. That's the plan." The brunette beamed and something in his head just cracked.
"In the middle of L'Occupation? Did you by any chance hit your head this morning? Perhaps fall down a series of stairs or two?"
"Uh, no." Her eyebrows rose.
"Maybe we should check for food poisoning."
"Auguste, I'm fine. Really! If it would help, I assure you that I'm of sound mind and body."
"That's not as reassuring as you think it is." He muttered, rubbing his brow with one hand. He managed to stop himself before he ran a hand through his hair and make a mess of it.
Auguste took a steadying breath.
"Are you serious?"
"Why shouldn't I be?"
Hermione had the gall to actually look confused and Auguste didn't even know where to start his explanation or questions. He might have thought that she was too naïve or not aware of the pressures and risks in such a place…but that would be inaccurate in her case. She came to England from Norway, didn't she? From the grave injuries she sustained, he supposed that she had Grindelwald's forces hot on her heels as she escaped. She would know. Yet with that knowledge, why did she still consider it a light matter to risk facing that sort of hell again?
"You know there's a war going on in the continent, right?" His tone was sardonic.
She raised her left eyebrow. "Oh, yes, because I might've forgotten it, what with all the newspapers mentioning it every day on the front page."
« Le péril le plus à craindre est celui qu'on ne craint pas. » The words climbed up from the depths of his mind and escaped from his tongue, spontaneous. He would've restrained himself if he was aware of it, since he couldn't remember when he was ever pointed towards a friend. It was hard not to. She worried him.
"No, I'm quite aware of the dangers I'll face, thank you—is that a quote? That sounds like a quote."
"Rousseau." He confirmed. Rousseau wrote some of the sharpest commentary he'd read.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not going to the front lines, Auguste. I'm sure you know the difference. Besides, the ones that are occupied are the non-magical side. On est magiciens ! We have more leeway than muggles in moving around—notice-me-not charms just the beginning of what we can do."
She'd started to move as she spoke. "Visiting is not as risky for us as it would be for non-magical people. There is still a separation between the magical ministries and the non-magical government. The official stance of the wizarding world is generally non-interference. For us, to leave is just several floo trips away. As long as you have a good head on your shoulders, and you don't panic easily, it's very doable."
There she is, he thought, the implacable and incomprehensible Hermione.
The gaze that she sent him shone with her optimism and spirit. Her shoulders were straight, her head held high and unwavering. That was when he understood yet another part of her, an answer to the questions he never uttered.
You were always a fighter, weren't you?
"You do know that most people don't think the way you do, don't you? That for most, we're just a hair's breadth away from official war against Grindelwald. Even magical Germany could not pretend that they had nothing to do with him for long."
"I know." Her words were steady. She had expected this. "I think there are a few other people who are of the same opinion as me. Even if there weren't and it was only me who would be interested to explore further…I'll be fine."
The wizard disagreed with that, but he knew his opinion wouldn't make a difference for Hermione. He let out a soft exhale.
"Just don't risk your life unnecessarily, Hermione. That's all I implore of you." He finally said.
"I won't. Trust me, I've heard that line from other people too at this point." The corners of her lips rose up slightly. "Though it does make me wonder…do I really come across as reckless, really? I have no intention of throwing my life away so easily, you know?"
Auguste did not hide the sense of relief he felt in his chuckle.
"I'll hold you to that, Hermione."
'-
Professor Adele Lagrange closed up the class for the day. With an easy wave of one hand and a muttered charm, the eraser floated and started erasing the arrays she'd written on the board. The students started to stand and file out with varying degrees of eagerness.
It did amuse him slightly to realise that there were already three wizards who dropped Advanced Arithmancy from their schedule. It was obvious in the newly-formed gaps on the front row seat.
Advanced Arithmancy was Auguste's last class of the day, since there was no incidental Astronomy class after this (the moon was waning and thus making it hard to see fainter night objects right now). It was also a class he shared with both Hermione and Tom. Conveniently for him, she wasn't in class right now. It might sound like a coincidence, except he was aware that with her practically-doubled-up class schedule, she was probably taking one of her other classes that happened to clash with this one right now. The differences between their schedules were just a matter of time.
It gave him the freedom to follow Tom Riddle without her company. This was also one of the few classes where he did not have his Slytherin followers trailing behind him like so many ducklings.
He really wouldn't have a better opportunity than this.
"Riddle, please wait."
The Slytherin prefect turned at his name.
"Murat. How can I help you?"
"Nothing too difficult, I hope." Auguste answered, catching up to Riddle's side.
He had heard a passing comment or two from his House mates on how he reminded them of Riddle and vice versa, but he didn't think they were that similar. They were both dark-haired and took care of their appearance, he supposed. Neatness may be rare enough among teenage wizards to be thought a noteworthy trait, he'd thought dryly, and perhaps Riddle was also polite, but those were superficial similarities.
"If I may occupy some of your time for a chat?" Auguste asked. Riddle nodded easily.
"Certainly."
"Where do you think we can sit for a while?"
"The library is quite convenient."
"The library it is, then."
It was with this casualness that they walked together, coming up with passing conversational topics that began by lightly touching arithmancy before soon moving on to other subjects. Riddle had been the one to ask him whether he'd seen any of the recent plays in The Globe for one. To be amicable really was not a challenge for either of them. A passerby might make the mistake that they were very good friends with each other.
'-
After knowing him for a while, Auguste was pretty certain that he and Riddle were rather different indeed. It was not easy to describe why his intuition told him after all their interactions, and seeing the other fifth-year interact with their classmates and members of other Houses. What did support this inexplicable inkling of his was how Hermione answered when he randomly asked her about it in Astronomy class.
"What, you and Tom? What brought this about, Auguste?"
He'd shrugged then. "Oh, it's just an idle musing, mind you. I've just heard several of our Housemates comment on our similarity."
Hermione actually huffed in disbelief and shook her head immediately. "No. Trust me, at the core of it, you're not similar. Any resemblance exists in passing and on the surface."
She'd hesitated when he asked her just where they are dissimilar, and what she perceived. In the end, Hermione did tell him that Riddle was 'sharper, much, much sharper' under his surface. He could see her hold back countless sentences right then, as she tried to determine what she could say that would not break any confidences.
"I'm not saying that he's right," she finally began. "But you recall that he was an orphan, and that he grew up among muggles, yes?"
Auguste had nodded slowly as he tried to digest this. Was Riddle then…from some sort of institution? It was a completely different image from what he had thought the Slytherin's background was. From his confidence and mastery of many topics, Auguste had thought of him a halfblood. Basically, he'd thought Riddle had a supportive family who could help with his interests—but he had been wrong, very wrong. No wonder it wasn't something commonly known.
"He'd mostly seen the worst results of human behaviour. He's rather…lacking in experience when it comes to kindness, you see, so it's no surprise if that's not something he makes a habit of either. Just…so you know." She made an awkward shrug at that point.
It had been an unexpected degree of elision from Hermione—she who answered frankly in the House table during dinner any questions within her expertise. This includes the time when somebody asked her how to assist if someone's choking (cast Anapneo), to signs of internal bleeding or even rot. It usually took someone asking her to please tone it down a bit before she realised someone was turning green nearby. There was also the time that Lucretia brought up the topic of this interesting curse she'd seen in one of her family tomes of how to plant worms in an opponent's limb, and how that might even work.
As he did have an odd sense of humour sometimes, he found it entertaining to see several pureblood witches rapidly move away from the vicinity as colour drained from their faces. One even fell over her seat. He had to bite his lip to keep his expression even as he kindly offered her a hand up.
Obviously, none of them quite understood what coming from 'an old wizarding family' actually entails.
When it came to Riddle however… her infrequent prudence also seeded more questions in him.
'-
Of course, their plan to have a quick chat turned out to be a little more complicated.
Once they entered the library, Riddle was waylaid by his Housemates more than once. The ones confirming him about meeting up later, or whether he'd be attending Slytherin's quidditch practise wasn't too unusual. Auguste had the occasional classmate chatting with him too. In his case, it was whether he'd be there for Advanced Astronomy's study group tomorrow, and another was checking his attendance on a casual social gathering tonight.
What became notable were the people asking him for instructions, others hoping for a lifeline in their essays. Then, there were the other prefects, like the Slytherin Montmorency checking something-or-other with him.
It was why when, in a moment of quietness, Riddle took an abrupt right turn between the bookshelves, Auguste followed his movement without a comment. They'd just finished the last regular class of the day, but the sun was already very low in the sky. Only a weak wash of orange glow entered the upper reaches of the library. Where they were, among the lower bookshelves, only the few lanterns already lit could light the way. The feeble winter sunlight could not reach them.
In this half-light, it was a simple matter for them to evade notice. Four turns later, the Slytherin wizard located a corner table and took a seat there, gesturing for him to take one of the other seats. The Ravenclaw followed suit with ease.
"Well, I think we've lost most of them," Auguste commented.
"Indeed. You can proceed directly with your concern," Riddle replied. "That way, I can make my escape soon enough before anyone else tracks me down."
His dry tone earned a huff of amusement from Auguste, and that in return made Riddle actually smile. Auguste thought he could see Hermione's point. For a second, there was a flash of impatience in his blue eyes before it disappeared again.
"You're aware that I'm helping Hermione coordinate the Search, right?"
"I am, yes."
"Do you know that Hermione has ideas of what to do if the information collected from various sources still mostly give no clues of where Grindelwald's forces spend more time in?"
"She has said several things in that direction." Riddle confirmed as easily.
"Then are you aware that she intends to visit France, during the Occupation, and right behind enemy lines?"
Riddle blinked. A moment passed, and he could not infer what his companion was thinking behind his mildly puzzled mien.
"Did she tell you this?"
"Yes! How else would I know?"
A beat and his mind noticed something else. Wait, there's something odd—his reaction is too even. Riddle wasn't surprised, and Auguste surmised that he already knew to some degree.
The prefect shrugged. "I thought that maybe you had heard it secondhand from someone else. There are many rumours swirling around her, if you must know. After a while, one gets used to hearing the tall tales."
"You're not worried?"
"Of what? Oh, Hermione?" Riddle did look mildly surprised for a moment. He seemed to mull over something for a while before he spoke up.
"Do you know the kind of courage you need to have to fight and escape alone, when there are people trying to kill you?" Riddle asked him.
The question seemed to come out of the blue, but it wasn't a difficult one to answer.
"I have no idea, thankfully."
"Neither do I. I may feel that I'd manage well enough, but I'll never know for sure until I've lived through such an event myself, Hermione does not have to wonder, though. She knows exactly how she'd act already."
Even compared to the evening sun, the lamplight that lit their table felt weak. Riddle's face was one of sympathy and faith in Hermione's ability. The occasional movement of the flames let shadows pass over them for split-seconds. In those flickering moments of darkness, his eyes were the only feature noticeable before light returned again, but in that vanishing second, he perceived something else. His intuition leaped to a conclusion. What Auguste thought to be faith seemed to be deeper; belief.
He's behind her decision completely.
He drew his focus back into the conversation.
"You mean…"
"She hadn't tried hard enough to find out what happened to her friends and family, you know? You can't help but think that she'd already known their fates to some degree. Yet she pushes forward every day with an incomparable drive, with purposes she set for herself." Riddle explained.
Auguste did not exactly have a logical reason for his feeling. But he could not shake away this interpretation that his brain had come up with. As he tried to square it with reality, he did his best to still keep up.
"That would mean that Hermione's circumstances are very tragic." He managed to say.
"It is. Yet she'd shown the ability to adapt her life, her plans all this time. If I were to doubt her, to suggest that she cannot do something, I'm pretty sure that if she truly wishes it, she can simply leave and do it on her own anyway. That's how resilient she is. She does not exactly feel compelled to stay in Hogwarts, you know?" Riddle actually looked concerned there, and he had to adjust his thoughts.
Wait a moment. What?
Auguste was unsure of what he'd heard. He's saying that he's placating her? Or…?
"Is she that careless?"
"Not quite. She just has a very strong understanding of what she could do—and no, you have no idea of that, even if you've fought with her in Advanced Defence. She would be using the non-lethal spells in her arsenal, and that would handicap her notably." Riddle answered.
"It's safer if we were to plan this entire idea together than to disagree and lead her to take her own path."
Auguste could not shake the feeling—his damnable intuition once more—that he did not get the slightest hint that Riddle was worried about all this. The prefect's expression might be one of careful concern, but he did not feel there was anything much deeper. His eyes were as a still lake; its depths unknown and all the animals flailing and sinking cannot disturb the surface. The quiet confidence in Riddle's voice, however, rang deep and true.
Belief, the part of him that was too used to reading other people's minute looks concluded once more.
His mind warred between what he could see with clarity, and what his intuition insisted was there (and yet he could barely find any evidence on). Auguste could not tell whether Riddle was truly concerned for Hermione or if he was going to accede to any wish that she has, no matter how outré.
"Murat?"
"Oh, sorry. I was just…ruminating over all the things you've told me. It's new; I haven't heard it before."
Riddle's slight smile was understanding. "Take all the time you need. You can always call on me again if you had further questions. For now, I'm afraid I have other people to meet."
"I understand. Thank you for your time."
"You're welcome, Murat, and good evening to you." The Slytherin nodded and had begun to stand up.
"Good evening to you too."
'-
Hermione was just walking towards the Great Hall with her dormmates for supper in the evening. Like everyone else, they dodged the busy house elfs carrying what seemed to be endless garlands of greenery. A slow first-year just received a face full of spruce, to his friend's laughter. She'd even caught another younger year almost face-planting after they tripped over it.
From the tall stairs propped up against more than one wall and the house elfs climbing up and down, it was clear that they were trying to fix the greenery on top of the castle corridors. From the way everyone had seen them everywhere, it was probably all of the Hogwarts corridors they were going to decorate. This was going to take some time, since Hogwarts was bigger on the inside (its non-Euclidean geometry strikes again). It was even more true when you consider that other house elfs could not be pulled away from their regular housekeeping duties such as cooking in the kitchens or keeping the dorms neat.
"Wow, this is some dedication." Hermione commented.
"Hogwarts do have a tradition of going all out on decorations for Yule, Christmas, Wintertide or whatever-you-call-this." Lakshmi said, offhand.
Eugenie furrowed her brows in thought. "Was it like this last year, though? I don't feel like it is."
The dark-haired witch was about to give a quick answer before she fell into contemplation.
"That is…actually a very good question. I certainly don't remember it happening quite this way either."
"Huh." Hermione shrugged it away.
A little overzealousness in decoration did not feel to be anything significant, so she talked of other things. Lakshmi was interested in getting back to her original topic.
Lakshmi was asking questions about Advanced Potions, of all things. The dark-haired witch had said that since Hermione shared six other classes with Tom, he surely couldn't mind her being partnered with Lakshmi during Potions most of the time. Hermione herself was inclined to agree. As Tom did not seem to be sticking to her as much as he had before, it wasn't an issue for anyone.
They were now halfway down their current route to the Hall (with a slight detour from one corridor that was actually blocked by…a felled tree that the house elfs were dragging through? Which still has its major root system attached? Why?) It was at this point where an armoured suit suddenly started moving.
"Eep!" Eugenie let out a little yelp before pulling her wand out. Lakshmi had backed away.
Hermione had her wand in a second, but relaxed once she saw the knight was only stepping aside.
"It's alright everyone," she assured her friends.
True to her words, Tom Riddle stepped out from the passageway behind the suit of armour. He bowed to it.
"Thank you, Armour of Lady Tegwen."
The armour bowed back silently before returning to its original post, and at the same time, the passageway behind it…simply shrank into nothing. It was now a wall once more.
"Morgana's Tits, Riddle! You gave us a fright!" Lakshmi complained. Eugenie took a long, drawn-out sigh.
"Lakshmi, there are impressionable ears around."
"Ah, right. I'll shut up for now, then." Lakshmi doesn't sound the slightest bit concerned as she said this.
"Apologies, ladies, but this was the only path I remembered that can intercept you. I was waiting, but then apparently none of you passed the main east-west corridor." Tom explained.
"Well, there was this tree in a corridor and we couldn't pass." Eugenie said.
"A…tree." He raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, yes, leaves, branches, trunk, roots and all. Don't ask us, we don't have any idea of what's that about either," Hermione finished. "Anyway, what brings you here?"
"Why should there be anything other than my wish for your company?"
"You know, for a second, I actually believed that." Lakshmi said. She actually looked impressed at the flattering bullshit Tom managed to say.
Hermione knew that this dormmate of hers didn't exactly believe in romance, unlike Eugenie's awkward-but-impressed look (she was feeling guilty for being a third wheel). Hermione sighed. It would be much faster if they just went away somewhere else, where Tom wouldn't feel like avoiding the actual topic, simply because there was an audience he would not take into his confidence.
"Alright, let's take a turn around Hogwarts for a bit, then. Lakshmi, Eugenie, I'll see you at our House's table, then?"
"Of course, Hermione." Eugenie nodded.
"Oh, no need! Take all the time you need. Miss supper if you feel like it, even—you can always have supper in bed." Lakshmi replied with a wink, and a blushing Eugenie covered her face with her hands.
Hermione only shook her head and didn't deign that with an answer and walked away with Tom.
'-
"So, what was it that you need to hurry?" she asked.
They detoured into the corridor with the pine tree, and then turning to a corner from there to what seemed to be an old coal storeroom, albeit one no longer used for coal. It was perfect for a little quietness; since the corridor was impassable, nobody would be trying to pass through it.
"What makes you think I'm hurrying?"
"You could've waited until I actually arrive in the Great Hall." The brunette replied. She sat down on the bench. Tom settled on the other end.
"Ah. Well, there were some things that I needed to pass to you before you reached your House table and we need to get our stories straight. Interception might be a little awkward, but it was the best method I came up on the spot," Tom finally started explaining.
"And why do you need to do that?" Impatience had started to seep into her voice now.
He sighed. "I think you need to lie better."
That…had not been anything near what she expected him to say.
Not that she wasn't aware of that weakness of hers, but Tom actually seemed to find it cute of all things. It was what he said. Inwardly, she thought the idea that he could see through most of her lies easily was something his paranoid side found comforting. So far, she'd managed to choose her words carefully and dissemble on some things about the future she saw to him, which is the only thing she truly cared to lie about. So, she did not feel like correcting his perspective.
It made his words feel even odder to her.
"Excuse me?"
"You met with Murat earlier in the day, right?"
"Yes?"
"Let's see…"
After one long, soundless exhale, Tom wordlessly held his forehead in one hand in the next few moments. If he did that any longer, he might as well be Hogwarts' version of Rodin's The Thinker. It worried her slightly. When he spoke up, his voice was still calm and that improved her mood.
"Auguste came to me earlier this evening. Basically, he's worried about the final stage of your Search plan."
"My Search plan? I seem to recall someone being just as interested in personally finding Grindelwald." Hermione's reply was drier than dust.
"Alright, our Search plan." Tom conceded.
"Thank you."
"I managed to get him to back away somewhat by saying that it's the prudent choice for me to 'assist you' in your efforts, so as to not make your impatient enough to go haring off on your own to Occupied France. He probably had the impression of you being a one-person-search team in that case."
"That's not…that's not anywhere close to any of my plans! Not even the one where we didn't end up planning this together!" she complained.
"I know," he commiserated with her. He actually looked sympathetic. "It was something that I came up with at the spur of the moment. I had to find something to stall, because otherwise the only path open to me to be a caring partner is to express worry about what you're planning and trying to hold you back."
She didn't miss the sarcasm leaking through.
"Which would be counterproductive," Hermione said with another sigh.
"Yes. I know you won't do anything that foolish. You'd have made contacts on this side of the Channel first and gather as much information as you can about what's going on in the field. In all probability, I can see you making contact with not a few muggle sources too."
To hear that he did understand her somewhat actually made her feel better. This was one of the times she was gladder than not for his perceptiveness. At least someone knew her.
"So, what now?" She asked.
"Now, we come up with something to square my explanation to him, with what you said to him this afternoon. On that note, I need to know what you said to him too, preferably the exact words."
Hermione figured out the first step immediately.
"Right. Then let's find someone to borrow a pensieve from."
'-
.
.
.
End Notes:
List of Stuff One Might Try to Look Up:
Navier-Stokes Equations: (Physics, fluid dynamics) The equations that describe and explain the motion of Newtonian Fluids, practically the version of Newton's Second Law of Motion for fluids. I'm not going to put the equation here because:
a) it's complex that you can't instinctively 'get' what it's about, not like the original Newton's Second Law that generates F = m a, where you see that an object's force is determined by the size of its mass and its acceleration, and,
b) I'm sure it's just going to traumatise most people. Heck, I don't feel like seeing it more than necessary. Once you deal with turbulence, it's even descends straight into chaotic behaviour, and I'm using the word 'chaotic' in the physics sense, even.
Revelate descriptiones omnium scriptorum: (Latin) Reveal all representations/explanations that are written! (The exclamation mark exists in the translation because the word revelate is in the imperative case—it's an order).
'-
Additional Notes:
"You know, how the law applies to the rich and poor equally, which is why they're equally forbidden from sleeping under bridges, begging or panhandling and stealing bread?": Hermione is paraphrasing the words of Anatole France. "The law, in its majestic equality, forbids rich and poor alike to sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets, and to steal their bread."
Le péril le plus à craindre est celui qu'on ne craint pas. : Jean-Baptiste Rousseau, in his work Adonis, 1729. "The danger that is most to be feared is one that we do not fear." No, I didn't have this in my memory offhand. My French isn't that good to enjoy casually reading old plays in French.
On est magiciens ! : We are magicians.
'-