It was becoming a sort of unofficial routine as the weeks rolled by. When Harry went for his private tutoring sessions with Professor Lupin, Matthew and Hermione would wait until five minutes after he'd left, pack up their books and then wander down to the abandoned classroom that housed the Tardis. It was perfectly viable for Matthew to park it in a much closer room, with Hermione growing tired of the number of steps involved, but he claimed that he'd somewhat grown fond of the location. It definitely had nothing to do with getting to spend extra time with Hermione during the walk. Definitely not . Sure, he got to enjoy her company for longer and she would sometimes cling onto his arm when they were checking that the coast was clear, but that was just a perk. Definitely not the entire reason why he was doing this.
Within the Tardis itself, they would use a different room every evening. It had so many lying around that it felt like a waste not to. Hermione could sense that there was also an element of him wanting to show off slightly, highlighting everything that was under his control. She wasn't going to complain. She was always excited to explore the ship, sometimes getting lost in the process. A part of her was searching for something more private, evidence of the life he'd lived, but Matthew had done well so far to keep her away from anything that existed. And, in truth, Hermione was often far too knackered to do any proper digging. Matthew had told her that the training process would be difficult but, even so, she had never anticipated it to be quite so taxing.
They found themselves in a fairly small room, only consisting of two armchairs facing one another. The walls were blank, a soft grey in colour. It was a very strange arrangement, one he must have constructed just for this process. Hermione could picture him making it especially for her and it would have brought a smile to her face if she hadn't been told to concentrate. She was sitting on one of the chairs, Matthew facing her, her eyes clamped shut. She'd been instructed to go through her breathing exercises again, which their first lesson together had covered. It was all about calming herself and removing herself from the outer world. Matthew had told her that it worked best if her mind went blank but, if he thought she was capable of that, then he didn't really know her. Her brain was always working rapidly, raising questions, answering them, coming up with new ones all in quick succession. She never stopped. Growing up, it had been her safety blanket, retreating into her mind, and now she was being told to abandon that comfort. If anyone other than Matthew had asked that of her, she would have given up by now.
But that was the issue she was facing too. Because, try as she might, Hermione knew that Matthew was less than a foot away, watching her intently. She was exposed, more exposed than she'd ever allowed herself to be around another person. It was fairly frightening, knowing how much she was trusting him. He could do anything and she would be powerless to stop him. But he always remained sitting, never saying a word, infuriating her in another manner. She wanted to be instructed on exactly how to do this but it felt like he was giving her free rein. Hermione believed she needed that control and structure to succeed, something he wasn't providing. So, when nothing happened every time they did this, she would grow more frustrated at him for being so calm about it and at herself for failing so miserably.
She didn't want to remotely consider that it was proving exceedingly difficult because of his presence. He was a distraction. The clear rule was that she wasn't meant to think about anything but he would always be on her mind. At first, she would try to forget about him. But then telling herself to forget about him actively made her think about him, and then she was replaying moments over in her head. The hug they'd shared in Honeydukes. Every time he'd touched her softly, showing the kindness within him that he mainly kept locked away. The kiss on that perfect evening. Hermione wondered if Matthew could tell what she was thinking about, and that just made things worse. Because, if he could, then he was choosing to avoid it and that meant he'd obviously learnt the error of her ways. It was evident as to why she would so easily spiral uncontrollably, making the exercise practically pointless.
As she sat there, the minutes ticking by, her eyes still closed, she thought she was doing better than normal. Sure, her mind had wandered a few times, thinking about whatever rooms had to be inside the Tardis and which one Matthew called his own when he was living there. She'd considered for a few moments the possibility that he chose a different room every night like they were doing with this, or whether he just never slept at all, like it appeared when they were at Hogwarts. But, overall, her brain had been surprisingly quiet. She was growing used to the sensation, even if it was by no means perfect yet. The only problem she faced was ignoring the element of time. She would occasionally wonder how much time had passed and then grow conscious that it was taking too long again. Maybe it had something to do with being inside a time machine (though it couldn't time travel anymore) or the time turner still hanging around her neck, tethering her to the concept. Perhaps she was just overthinking things as usual, the very opposite of what she had been told to do.
Hermione jerked back in surprise when she felt him grave her hand lightly. Her eyes snapped open to see that he had slightly backed away at her show of fright, an apologetic look on his face. He never did this. It had been five times they'd done this now, and he had never moved towards her. It gave her a sense of hope that something was finally happening, though she didn't feel any different. There was definitely a slight tingle, though that was oddly coming from the patch of skin he had briefly made contact with.
"What…um…what are you doing?" she managed to choke out.
"I didn't want to disturb you too much but I reckon that we might be able to move onto the next phase," he answered, still keeping distance between them as he scrutinised her reaction.
She leant forward excitedly. "Really? Oh, what is it? I'll do it. Anything."
He smiled at her eagerness, moving closer. He edged forward slowly, giving her plenty of time to tell him to back away. But she just looked at him expectantly. "You've been working towards calming your mind to locate the centre of your true powers. The next step is using this new found control to convince yourself that you have these abilities."
"How do I do that? You can't just tell yourself you can do something. It doesn't work like that, otherwise I wouldn't have needed to study for so many hours of my life."
He let out a slight laugh at her comment. "You've used pure magic before. You just never knew that it was that. Every witch and wizard who has gone through those large doors of Hogwarts have accidentally tapped into that power source."
Hermione thought about it for a few moments and Matthew gave her the space to figure it out for herself. He knew that she would find the process more fulfilling if she did most of the legwork. "Everyone? You don't mean…magical episodes in children, do you?"
"If I could give you house points, then I would be throwing them at you right now."
Hermione looked away bashfully. "That'd probably make the system rather unfair…you like me too much."
He stumbled backwards a bit. "Yes…I suppose I do." There was a brief silence where neither of them knew what was going to happen, whilst both of them knew what they wanted to happen. They didn't act upon it, Matthew shaking his head to snap him out of his slight daze. He needed to keep his concentration just as much as Hermione for this to work. "You need to remember when you used that accidental magic."
"That sounds easy enough. I think the first time happened inside our house, in the living room. I wanted…"
Matthew held up a hand to stop her. "It's not as simple as reciting what happened. Anyone can do that. But the pure magic within you has been contained for so long that it requires something more substantial. You basically have to relive the experience. You need to understand what it felt like, what the catalyst was, that sort of thing. You have to be in that moment, completely separated from the present, to lay the groundwork of reaching towards the core of your powers."
"Well, that definitely sounds more difficult than I first thought." She was trying to make light of it to obscure her rising worries. It came across as so complicated that she was concerned that she simply wouldn't be able to do it. And then what would Matthew think of her? He had put this much effort into helping her and she would end up falling short. But she couldn't voice this dilemma because that would be admitting defeat, something she always wanted to avoid.
"Which is why I'm here." He lowered himself to crouch directly in front of her so their heads were at the same level. "I'm going to help you. I'm going to be your guide through the memories, pinpointing the correct ones, tethering you between the two realities. It can be easy to get lost in memories if one goes deep enough, so I'll be there to pull you back if required. The thing is though…you're going to have to let go."
"What do you mean?" Was she gripping the arms of the seat too much? Maybe it was possible that her knuckles had gone white with the tension in her body.
"I know you, Hermione. I know that you prefer to keep yourself locked away, always partially hidden behind the walls you've built over the years. And, sure, since coming to Hogwarts, those walls have grown smaller and weaker, but they're still there. There's still the temptation to run behind them when you're put in a vulnerable position." He looked at her, his gaze now unwavering, refusing to let her look away. "I'm not saying this to insult you. I'm pointing it out to remind you that you're a lot stronger than you once were, more confident too. You need to open yourself up to me, allowing me to dive into those memories with you. I won't look at anything you don't want me to but your mind will be exposed as long as I'm inside. Do you understand?"
She nodded her head but Matthew shook his head in response. "Can you say it for me?" he asked quietly. "Just because I'm nervous about this too and hearing it will probably calm me down."
"I understand," Hermione said firmly. "What do you need me to do?"
"Not a lot. Just remember what you've been practising. Your mind has to be calm for me to be able to control the direction we go in. Otherwise, we could get lost and witness memories you'd rather me not see. Most importantly, you have to trust me. This sort of experience…it can change the dynamic between a pair of people because you're seeing a different version of them. But you need to realise that I'd never do anything to make you uncomfortable. If it becomes too much for you, we'll pull back as soon as it's safe to do so."
"I know you'd never want to hurt me." Hermione was resolute in her decision. "How does this start then? Is there a spell? A rune sequence?"
Matthew shifted closer, their faces barely apart. It was taking all of her effort to keep her mind steady, ignoring the burning desire to close the distance completely. He probably wouldn't appreciate that distraction, let alone the fact that it would suggest she wasn't taking this seriously.
"Just a touch," he whispered, raising his hand towards her. "Are you sure about this? We can do it another time if you'd rather think about it more."
She intertwined her fingers with his. "I'm sure."
Matthew nodded his head and she closed her eyes as he brought two fingers to her temples. There was a brief flash and Hermione felt like she was falling for a few moments. When she felt the motion grind to a halt, she risked opening her eyes to see what had happened. She half expected to find herself back on the Tardis. Would it really have been that easy after how Matthew had bigged it up? But it was safe to say that they were no longer inside the ship, at least from this perspective. There was a large chamber ahead of her, coated in mahogany wood. Archways curved above her and she couldn't tell how many floors up the building went. Windows high above were allowing sunlight to drift in, capturing tiny specks of dust as they floated around. It almost resembled a cathedral, it was that grand. It was oddly quiet though, perhaps too serene. She didn't have to look to know that Matthew was by her side.
"What is this place?" she asked quietly, not wanting to break the silence too much. Could she hear birds somewhere? In places, part of the structure was covered in vines and leaves, nature breaking into the building.
Matthew looked around slowly. "I'd have to say that it's a library."
She looked closer and, sure enough, along the walls, she could now make out hundreds of books, all neatly arranged, as if him saying it had brought them to life. If the place was as big as it seemed, how many books would there be? Hermione had the burning desire to find out. "How did we get into a library? Does the Tardis have one?"
"It does. Where do you think I get the books I've gifted you over the years? I've got quite the collection." He took a few steps forward, Hermione slowly following suit. "But this isn't the Tardis. This is you."
"I'm not following."
"Over the past few weeks, you've been organising your mind, maybe without even realising it. You took the time to simply stop, allowing your brain to take stock and restructure. It's been a long time since I did this but it appears differently depending on the person. I shouldn't be surprised that it chose this form, since it's your mind."
"This…this is my brain?" Hermione was growing a bit dizzy.
"This is how it sees itself. Each memory locked away in an individual book. You could spend years in here, searching, reliving those moments. Now do you see why I said it's easy to get lost once you start?" He gazed up at the ceiling. "It is gorgeous though."
She couldn't help the slight buzz in her chest as she realised he was technically complimenting her. "Did you know that I was creating this during our sessions?"
"That was the plan, although I didn't know exactly what would be the end product. It wouldn't have worked if I'd told you. It has to come naturally. But you did this in a matter of weeks. It's amazing." His gaze flickered to her, Hermione too busy looking at the lofty bookshelves to notice.
"Is my pure magical power source in here somewhere?" she wondered.
"Perhaps. It depends on whether you're ruled by your head or your heart."
"Head." Hermione didn't even need to think about it.
"I'm not so sure. I think you follow your heart a lot more than you realise. Going against rules within your first year at Hogwarts. Following two boys down a trapdoor. Entering the Chamber of Secrets. Resisting the sane choice of running away because it's dangerous, simply due to the fact that you care too much. Your heart is your power just as much as your mind, which is one of the reasons why you ended up in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw."
"You said that, to do this, I have to relive certain memories. And that the books represent those memories. So what do we do? Read the books?"
"Just reach out. If you've done this properly, which I know you have, then your mind should understand what's required."
Hermione wasn't as convinced about her capabilities but she had gotten this far by following his lead. She raised her arm, holding out her hand. Nothing happened for a few seconds. She wanted to be annoyed at the sign of her failure but she remained focused, more determined than ever to reward Matthew's faith in her. In the distance, a sound could be heard. She couldn't fathom what it was at first until a book flew into view just above them, rounding one of the alcoves. It surged towards her and she feared what was going to happen when it made contact with her at that speed. But, just as it reached her, it slowed down enough to float softly down into her outstretched hand. It felt surprisingly light, which surprised her. Hermione stroked the cover tenderly, feeling the worn leather. If this place had been created only recently, then why did the book look so old?
"You're using memories from long ago," Matthew explained, as if he'd heard her. Perhaps he had since he was in her mind. "Snapshots from your childhood that you thought you moved on from, but they remain, tucked away, waiting to be opened again."
She looked at him nervously and he just nodded his head encouragingly. Hermione bit her lip as she opened the book to a random page, the page her mind wanted her to go to. There was another flash this time, much shorter but more intense. She was forced to avert her gaze, only to discover that the library was gone when she looked again. They were in the front room of a house. Her house. It hadn't changed too much over the years but there were definitely some differences. The old rug, for example, that had been thrown out around the end of her primary school years because it had become too tatty according to her mother. The hideous lamp her grandparents had given them from a French market stall which would 'accidentally' be knocked off the table when her dad was cleaning.
There was the bookcase, the same one she had showed off to Harry. She pictured that moment and how it looked so similar, although most of the books were different. And, crouched in front of it, sitting on the carpet, was a small girl with impossibly bushy hair. The bookcase towered above her, dwarfing her in size. It must have felt like a mountain to the child, a mountain that needed to be conquered. Again, Hermione could feel Matthew by her side, joining her on this journey, but she couldn't take her eyes off her younger self. She wanted to reach out but had already worked out that they couldn't be seen. She would have noticed them by now, two apparent strangers standing in her home.
"Look at that hair," Hermione remarked with a light laugh. "I've somehow managed to tame it over the past year."
"It's adorable," came Matthew's fond reply. "Not that I don't like the change," he hastily added. "Should I be surprised that the first memory puts you amongst books?"
"I haven't changed that much."
"Good." It was an earnest reply that made it difficult for Hermione to focus on her fabricated surroundings. She was fearful that a mental lapse would bring it all crumbling down around them. So, really, he needed to stop being so sweet otherwise she wouldn't be able to concentrate for much longer.
They watched in silence as the younger Hermione closed the book she had been reading, carefully putting it to one side.
"I was always told to respect books. That was a lesson my parents drilled into me as soon as I could read. So I wasn't too pleased when you tore out that page last year and scribbled all over it."
"As far as I can remember, that was done to help you realise we were dealing with a basilisk! And to help you save me!"
"You're not getting away with it that easily. Now shush…I remember this bit." Hermione nudged him playfully, forcing him to watch the scene play out. The child stood up, looking up at the shelves above her. Her gaze was pointed right to the very top, reaching the ceiling where the highest row could be seen. For an adult, it would have been a bit of a stretch. For a kid, it was practically impossible. But the girl wore a look of intense determination, almost scowling at the book she desired for being so far away. They watched as one of the books edged away from its fellow compatriots, sliding along the wooden panel with an audible creak. And then, suddenly, it flew off the shelf and was sent careening against the sofa, landing with a heavy thud. The young Hermione looked around, puzzled and amazed. But, as she turned to pick the object up, more books repeated the action, soaring away from their housing. Some simply fell to the ground, whilst others shot across the room and impacted against the wall. It was a whirlwind of flying pages and Hermione found herself wanting to duck out of the way; Matthew, on the other hand, remained perfectly still.
The books eventually ran out and a calmness washed over the room. Hermione was prepared to start talking again, thinking the memory would come to an end, but then a larger groan rumbled. The bookcase, disturbed so much by the sudden shift, moved precariously, fighting against the hinges securing it to the wall. The girl in front of them could only watch in confused fright as the shelves began to lean forward. It was almost in slow motion as it fell towards her. Hermione didn't know what was happening. This wasn't right. It was going to hit her younger self but all Matthew did was grip her arm, keeping her in place, preventing her from helping the vision of her youth. And, just as it was about to fall on the frozen figure, a surge of golden energy erupted, firing from her chest and released like a shockwave. It was almost amber-like in colour, deep and vibrant. Hermione watched, more confused than ever, as the bookcase halted in midair before returning to its original position.
The scene continued to play out. Her young form stood up unsteadily, looking around. Her mum ran into the room, her eyes wide at the sight she was met with. Hermione didn't get a lot of time to see her but caught a glimpse of how young her face was. She was picking the girl up, checking for cuts and bruises, her eyes shifting constantly to take in the volume of books out of their proper places. Hermione wanted to watch more but she could feel herself being pulled away, dragged back from the room. With another flash, she was back in the library, seated at a table this time, a fire roaring nearby. She was replaying the event in a loop, trying to make sense of what she'd seen. Matthew was looking at her, his fingers steepled together, waiting for her to react.
"That wasn't how I remembered it," she told him. "The bookcase, I don't remember it falling or the surge of magic that we saw. The books flying off, that's something that definitely happened. The same with how my mum reacted. But not what came in between."
"Which is why it's important that we're doing it like this instead of just making you recite these memories," Matthew said. "With how young you were, it's easy for your brain to overlook the more traumatic aspects of the experience. And, once you were told about your abilities just before joining Hogwarts, it would have made sense of the majority of what happened, besides that bit you've forgotten. Because that was something more than average accidental magic."
"It was the same colour as your powers."
"Because it was the same. Pure magical energy escaping your body to protect you, an ingrained defence mechanism that you couldn't comprehend. I imagine you probably collapsed after that from the exhaustion of it all. It was…untamed and chaotic, uncontrolled magic that could have done a lot more damage than it ended up doing. So you've seen why it's best that most witches and wizards don't tap into that resource."
Hermione, however, was excited, leaning forward and holding his hands giddily. "This means I do have it though! I was nervous, you know. I didn't want it to turn out that I couldn't reach it after all this effort."
It was difficult not to be tempted by her enthusiasm but Matthew did his best to keep his expression neutral. "You've seen it in action. There's more to it in order to actively reach it now. As a kid, you weren't trained, you hadn't been taught to conduct magic as you would now. That enabled you to access the untempered form of your power. There's still a long road ahead of us."
"I know." Hermione nodded her head vigorously, as if to prove to him just how much she understood. "But wasn't this about convincing me that it's possible? That has to be proof!" She was basically jumping in her chair and Matthew could only stare at her, mesmerised.
"I think we've got time for one more. If you're up for it?"
"You mean that wasn't the only example of pure magic?"
"I can't be sure but you must have had other experiences of accidental incidents."
Something about Hermione's smile dimmed and he wondered whether they should call it a day. But a book was suddenly sitting between them, different to the one they'd just used. It was slightly newer but darker, black with red trimming. She eyed it precariously yet didn't wait for his permission to go ahead and open it.
They were in a school playground. Kids could be heard yelling and laughing in the background, but it was distant and muffled. As they stood there, the memory seemed less vibrant, drained of most of its colour. Hermione was barely moving, her body rigid. A lone girl sat on a bench, her feet dangling as they failed to meet the ground. A book was perched on her lap and she was reading it intently, oblivious to the world around her. Matthew looked around, spotting another girl approaching, blonde hair tied in pigtails, heading straight for what had to be another young Hermione. The new girl stood in front of her, yet she kept reading, obviously doing her best to ignore her. It was only when the girl snatched the book from her and threw it to the ground that the young Hermione looked up. Even from the distance they were standing away from the scene, they could see tears in her eyes. The girl was saying something but, just like with the other children, it was difficult to make out properly. They watched silently as Hermione bent forward, covering her face, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. They could do nothing as the girl picked up the book, laughed about something, and then threw it into one of the nearby bushes.
The first sign of true colour they got in the memory was Hermione's hands beginning to glow, the same golden force as before. It billowed viciously and the girl's eyes widened, unable to do anything as a pulse of the energy was unleashed. The girl flew through the air, landing in a heap some feet away. They looked at the Hermione before them, who was looking at her hands in astonishment. She seemed to stare at the other child, her cheeks stained with tears, before she ran off. Matthew glanced at his Hermione, alarmed to see that she was crying too, and he chose to take evasive action, his hands appearing to become alight in the same way as Hermione's had done.
When she opened her eyes again, she was surprised to find that they hadn't returned to the library. They were, in fact, back inside the room in the Tardis. She wondered how the tears she'd shed could still be felt in the real world, but her cheeks were wet. Maybe she just hadn't stopped crying from the experience. She felt Matthew's arms envelop her, bringing her into a tight hug that she didn't want to end. They stayed like that until Hermione's body finally stopped shaking and, even then, both of them were reluctant to let go. The compromise came in Matthew pulling back but his hands stayed grasped onto her arms.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I don't know why I had that reaction."
"You have nothing to apologise for. Nothing." His tone was burning with determination to make her believe that. "I should have realised that going through too many memories would put you under too much of a strain. With how well you've doing, I forgot that you're still learning."
"It wasn't the volume of memories. It was just that one. I've tried to forget about it."
"Which is why it was so distorted. Your control isn't perfect yet, meaning that your emotions were able to corrupt the experience." He wasn't insulting her or trying to put her down, just explaining what had happened because he knew that she would want to know. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"You just saw my sixth birthday. It usually falls on a school day. I remember begging my parents to let me not go in…even at that age, me wanting to avoid school was a big thing. I wanted to spend the day with them because I didn't have anyone there. The one time I despised at school was break, where I was forced to leave the safety of the classroom. I even asked the teachers that day if I could stay inside with them, but they obviously wanted a break just as much as the other kids." Hermione was looking at the floor, unable to bring her gaze to his in case she found disappointment in those eyes. "I thought I could get through the ordeal if I stayed on the outskirts of the playground, keeping to myself. But that obviously wasn't enough. That girl, she was called Susan Hawthorne. She wasn't even that nasty most of the time but she'd found out that it was my birthday, finding it funny that no one was making a big deal about it. As you saw, something inside must have snapped when she took my book from me, my one sanctuary, the one thing that wanted to be there for me. I never meant to hurt her. The teachers didn't see it and I was gone by the time they got to her, just presuming she'd fallen over. I never told anyone about it, not even my parents, and Susan never brought it up. Maybe she was scared, maybe she banged her head too hard and forgot about it, I don't know. But it's always been one moment in my life that I've been ashamed about. I couldn't even be frightened of whatever force I'd used because I was so scared of being found out."
"You must think I'm an awful person," she finished, trying to smile but still keeping her eyes away from him.
Matthew put his hand on her chin and made her look at him. "I think you're brave." She was totally confused by the response. "You went through all that and didn't allow it to change who you were. You were mocked for being yourself and yet you carried on embracing what made you happy. That takes so much bravery."
"But…I could have really hurt her. I did hurt her."
"Again, it was your magic acting to protect you. You couldn't control it. The very notion is that it was accidental. It's just another example of how potent your powers can be, which is why you've been instructed to constrain them. Come on…we should head back."
"No, I can do at least one more if you need me to."
Matthew smiled warmly at her. "You've been through a lot in a short space of time. But you've already made such great progress. You should be happy about that." He took a risk, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on her forehead. "I'm proud of you."
Hermione wanted more. She wanted to kiss him properly again. She thought about what her mum had told her, about how she needed to talk to him about whatever was brewing between them. But the fatigue was setting in across her body and she could feel her eyes starting to droop. Maybe another time. There had to be another time.