Hermione's knuckles turned white the harder she gripped the metal tin. She exhaled and willed her nerves to settle "Right. Let's get this over with."
A sudden whirlwind of sensation swept through her, disorienting her senses. Colors blurred and twisted around her as she felt herself being pulled through space.
After what felt like both an eternity and a mere heartbeat, the chaotic motion abruptly ceased. Hermione's surroundings stabilized, but she stumbled slightly. She reached for something to hold onto but found nothing. She blinked rapidly and her eyes adjusted to the flickering flames of the gas lamps. Tall, imposing pillars came into view that soared towards the seemingly endless roof, intricately carved with runes and symbols of the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic.
Gathering her resolve, Hermione adjusted her robes, squared her shoulders, and strode forward. In one corner of the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic's grand atrium, a particularly striking tapestry caught Hermione's eye. In the center of the tapestry, a powerful witch stood tall, her wand raised high as she faced off against a fearsome dragon. Flames engulfed her, yet the witch stood undaunted. Surrounding her, a band of fellow wizards and witches fought alongside her.
Hermione stepped out of the Ministry, and the bustling streets of Wizarding Sofia stretched out before her.
The summer sun cast a warm glow over the cobblestone streets, reflecting off the windows of the quaint shops and magical establishments that lined the thoroughfare. The air was alive with the sound of laughter, conversation, and freshly baked goods.
Following her nose, she soon found herself standing in front of a charming bakery nestled between two bustling shops. A hand-painted wooden sign hung in front of the store, in loopy letters, "Слънчова Пече" welcomed patrons inside.
Curious and hungry, Hermione stepped inside the cozy bakery. She was greeted by the delightful sight of golden-brown loaves of bread cooling on wire racks and trays of delectable pastries arranged behind a glass counter. The walls were adorned with woven tapestries, bursting with geometric motifs and stylized flowers in shades of red, blue, and green.
As Hermione admired the array of baked goods, she was approached by the bakery's owner, a kind witch with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye. She wore a crisp apron adorned with floury handprints and a triangular headscarf embroidered with flowers, folded over her head and tied at the back.
"Добре дошли!" (Welcome!) The owner greeted Hermione in Bulgarian and smiled. "Какво мога да взема за вас?" (What can I get for you?)
Hermione smiled and pulled out her English-to-Bulgarian dictionary. Her finger danced across the display case, landing on a golden pastry with a sugary crust. With a mixture of gestures and broken Bulgarian, Hermione got several deliciously baked goods. There was a table in a corner that looked like the perfect reading out to her and her sickly sweet confections.
She checked the time and sighed, it was almost time for her appointment. She'd have to come back next time. With a bittersweet smile, Hermione left the warm bakery and made her way to the bank.
The bank was easy to spot from any point in the market. The building was a towering structure, crafted from gleaming white marble and adorned with gold that shimmered in the sunlight. Gargoyles perched on the corners of the roof, their dark eyes constantly darted as they scanned the crowds.
The curly-haired witch continued to survey the stone guardians before a high-pitched voice broke her out of her thoughts. "They are amazing."
"They are." She answered with a smile. "Much Better than using dragons."
"Da! Much better!" commented Professor Ivanov, the Director of the Balkan Institute of Magizoology. Hermione turned around and beamed at the tall, slender man with a neatly trimmed beard streaked with silver. "Though we are still pushing for the permanent ban of all creatures as security measures."
The older wizard placed a thin hand on Hermione's shoulder. His lips quirked up and he shook his head, "with your help, we should be able to advance in our research."
"Thank you, professor, I sure hope so."
The tall wizard offered the witch his elbow. "Come, let us get going."
Panic clawed at her throat, and the sickening crack of splinching echoed in her ears, accompanied by Ron's pained screams. She swallowed, her nerves fluttering like restless butterflies in her stomach, and she felt that dreaded knot form in the pit of her stomach. With a hesitant nod, she tentatively slipped her arm through his. "Right."
With a subtle flick of his wand, a dizzying pressure built behind her eyes then a tingling tugging sensation at her navel yanked her forward.
The crisp mountain air nipped at Hermione's cheeks. She stood before the imposing stone facade of the Institute. The pillars were carved with images of different magical creatures and the arched doorway led to the weathered steps.
This was it, her home for the next two years.
As the heavy oak doors swung open, they revealed a grand hallway adorned with majestic tapestries depicting fantastical beasts from various regions of the Balkans. Among them was the Rodno Zlato, a golden stag with magical antlers that granted wishes to those deemed worthy, its image shimmered in the soft glow of the torches that lined the walls.
Gardens, vibrant and untamed, stretched in every direction. Both Muggle and Magical flora painted the gardens.
"Are those the Neshi you mentioned in your letters?" Hermione asked Ivanov.
The older wizard stopped and stroked his beard. "Da, we rescued them from a band of street performers."
Curious yellow eyes appeared near the wizard– a pair of Neshti, giggled as they flitted between the roses and the professor. The wizard extended his hand and offered a piece of copper to the flying creatures. The Neshti darted towards the shiny object and in a blink of an eye they–along with the copper disappeared.
"They like you," Hermione said. She propped her elbows on the edge of the stone window.
Ivanov snorted. "Sure hope so, with all the things I give them. Little things are draining my pockets."
Nearby, a majestic Rodno Zlato grazed serenely, its golden antlers caught the sunlight like fireflies. A low rumble drew Hermione's gaze to a towering Zmej Gorinishte, its multiple heads peacefully munched on enchanted gourds. They turned their heads and the scales on their torso shimmered like emeralds.
Professor Ivanov led Hermione through sunlit courtyards and labyrinthine corridors. Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the ancient stone floor. He paused before an intricate carving. He recounted the legend of the Muggle monks who built the institute centuries ago.
Finally, he halted behind a seemingly empty spot along the wall. "This is where we keep the newcomers and those still undergoing treatment. You'll have to take your wand to Elizabeth down in security to get your wand cleared."
"I'll do that today." Hermione nodded, her eyes fixed on the wall.
He tapped his wand and uttered an incantation. A heavy oak door appeared and groaned open. "Here we are."
A vast field, bathed in the golden light of a setting sun, stretched before them. But instead of playful frolicking, a dozen magnificent creatures lumbered and stumbled as they moved. Many of them had matted fur with dried blood, torn flesh peeking through gaping gashes, and limbs held at unnatural angles.
Hermione clenched her jaw and her heart squeezed in her chest.
A griffin, its majestic wing patched with various fibers and a thick shimmering coat of blue paste, limped across the field. A kelpie, its once glistening coat marred by dried mud and blood, rested its head on a moss-covered rock.
The old wizard placed an understanding hand on her shoulder. "Here, right this way," he said, gesturing towards the distant stables. "The newcomers are usually kept away from the others."
"How many unicorns do you have?"
"Three. Two are here and the newest foal we rescued is being kept in the stables."
"He's alone?" Hermione asked with raised eyebrows. "What about its mother?"
"She died."
"Is he aggressive?"
Ivanov sighed. "Yes, he's quite hostile. We suspect his mother was drugged over an extended period," he said, running a hand over his beard. "When we rescued her, it was too late for treatment. The toxins they used ended up killing her and passed into the foal. We also suspect that they used some type of multi-generational binding obedience spell."
Her jaw clenched. "Those are extremely volatile! They always have foul long-lasting effects."
Hermione's lips pursed in a thoughtful frown. "Are healing droughts not helping?"
"They are but because of the binding spell, the process has been difficult. We've been administering a daily regimen of Healing Draughts to help cleanse its system of residual toxins and promote internal healing. Though we are having a hard time undoing the spells." The Professor summoned a stack of parchment and handed it over to Hermione. "As you can see progress has been slow."
Hermione's eyes scanned the papers and nodded along. "I think that a gentle application of the Mending Charm can help mend any minor injuries and alleviate discomfort. As for the binding spell, it's probably safer to work from the inside first."
The old wizard's lips quivered. "I'll leave it up to you."
The sun sank low, casting long shadows across the vast expanse as they finally reached the stables, nestled at the edge like a weathered beacon. The scent of pine needles and damp earth filled the air.
"We are a bit ways away." Commented Hermione, her palms growing clammy the closer she got to the stalls.
"Da, he doesn't fare well with other creatures. His mother too was quite difficult to deal with."
Hermione hummed. Her fingertips grazed the air. "You have special runes here. Quite complicated ones at that."
The Bulgarian shook his head. "Oh yes, the Krums come and reinforce the property every now and then."
"The Krums?"
Hermione's heart beat faster and she wasn't sure why. It had been years since she had heard from him. After the announcement of his engagement in her sixth year, they both stopped writing to each other.
Though she wouldn't admit it to anyone, there were times when she let her hunger drive her to hallucinate what life would have been like if she had kept writing to him or if she had accepted his offer to go to Bulgaria that summer.
After the war, the constant rebuilding, the grief, the uncertainty - everything clawed at her. It was just too overwhelming. Instead of the cathartic liberation she expected, she suddenly felt suffocated by everyone's expectations of her future and more especially her supposed new life with Ron.
Every day that passed, the walls seemed to close in around her. So, without giving it a second thought, she went on a two-year sabbatical.
During that time she did what she had always wanted to–explore the Wizarding World. Her two-year journey started in Nepal and ended in Mexico.
In Nepal, Hermione found herself captivated by the mystical allure of the Himalayan mountains, where ancient monasteries perched precariously on rocky cliffs and prayer flags fluttered in the mountain breeze. She immersed herself in the teachings of wise sages and spiritual masters, learning ancient magical practices passed down through generations. The monks had allowed her to participate in a Puja Ritual, where sacred rituals are performed to honor and appease deities, spirits, and ancestors.
From Nepal, Hermione traveled across Asia, exploring vibrant wizarding communities in countries such as India, China, and Japan. In India, she marveled at the bustling streets of Diagon Alley Kolkata, where exotic spices filled the air and colorful market stalls displayed a dazzling array of magical wares. In China, she ventured into the Xishuangbanna Biosphere Reserve, where she encountered jade serpets and lotus frogs.
As Hermione made her way across the globe, her journey eventually led her to the ancient land of Mexico, where she discovered a hidden world of magic hidden amidst the ruins of ancient civilizations. In the jungles of Mexico, she stumbled upon hidden temples and sacred sites.
It was on one of her trips that where met the Director, and he had offered her a job at the Institute.
"They are one of our most important patrons." The old wizard explained with a smile. "They also help us with the runes in and around the property."
"That's very kind of them."
"It is."
Their footsteps crunched on the gravel path as they approached the nearest stall. Peeking inside, Hermione was met with a sight that tugged at her heartstrings. There, curled in a bed of straw, lay the unicorn foal. It was smaller than she expected, its normal pristine white coat dull and matted, ribs visible beneath its thin hide. Despite its slumber, a faint tremor ran through its frail body.
Suddenly, as if sensing their presence, the foal's eyelids fluttered open. Wide, cerulean eyes, filled with fear and confusion, locked onto Hermione's. In an instant, the peaceful scene morphed into chaos. The foal scrambled to its feet, whinnying shrilly, its horn flickering with a faint, panicked glow. It kicked against the wooden barrier, hooves thudding, its small body trembling like a trapped bird.
Hermione's heart lurched. The foal's fear was palpable, raw, and desperate. She stepped back and brought her hands where the creature could see them. "It's okay," she cooed, but the foal continued to thrash widely.
The Director's lips formed a line. "As you can see he needs a lot of work."
As she peered closer, her breath hitched. Lines of raw, angry red marred the foal's delicate white coat. Bites and gouges marred its legs, flanks, and even the base of its shimmering horn.
Her heart almost broke. She clenched her fists as rage boiled her blood. Those monsters hurt innocent creatures to this extent. The unicorn seemed to sense her anger and his body stiffened, hooves digging into the straw as it assumed a defensive stance. Its head lowered, horn glinting with a faint, menacing glow.
The curly-haired witch bit her lip and stepped back. "Do you mind if I stay with him for a bit longer?"
"Of course not." The older wizard placed a hand on her shoulder before walking away.
Hermione spent the rest of the evening cleaning the stables and getting her work area ready. She gave the foal the space it needed and didn't try to approach him again. This was going to be a long hard road and she knew she shouldn't push his already frail boundaries.
Weeks bled into months, and Hermione's days revolved around the wounded unicorn. She named him Bluey, after his startlingly blue eyes, it wasn't a particularly creative name but she liked it. Though Hermione was sure that the foal didn't approve of his new name as he would always go hide in his usual corner.
Working with Bluey had been an arduous process. The first thing had been to identify whatever toxin had been used. After weeks of analyzing samples with her Mass Spectrometer and microscope, she concluded that it was a mixture of two volatile ingredients that didn't blend well together. Consequently, it triggered aggression in the creatures.
Hermione had been so angry. Potion amateurs, if one could even call them that, had stuck their noses where they didn't belong and the ones that paid the price were creatures like Bluey and his mother.
The next step required finding an antidote. Hermione had to mix the right ingredients a multitude of times until she finally found the right dosage for Bluey.
It was a painstaking dance, a waltz of patience and understanding.
Once the foal's system had been cleared of the toxins, Hermione would come in and leave a treat for Bluey. Each offering was met with a toss of the head, a flicker of fear in his eyes. But Hermione didn't mind. Instead, she persisted until one day she brought marshmallows and found out that Bluey loved them. "You're going to get cavities, you know if you keep eating those," she scolded the unicorn.
Meanwhile, the binding-obedience spell proved to be rather challenging, especially at the beginning with the toxins still in his system. It had been a nasty mess that had taken Hermione way too long to solve. The spell and the toxins worked against each other, leaving Bluey in a dazed, angry, and scared state.
Hermione spent countless nights poring over dusty tomes. Spells like Finite Incantatem and Relinquio were just the starting point. She needed to understand the specific nature of the binding, the intent behind it, to craft a countermeasure that wouldn't leave Bluey vulnerable again. Alterations had to be precise otherwise the spell would rebind itself.
Determined to show the effects of binding magic on magical creatures, she meticulously documented her progress, noting Bluey's responses, and his subtle shifts in behavior. These observations, along with her findings on the binding spells, became her vigil. She filled report after report in hopes that the Aurors here in Bulgaria and in the rest of Europe would be better informed on what to look for.
When she wasn't spending time with Bluey, she was spending time in both Muggle and Wizarding Sofia.
She, of course, had to begin by visiting the National Museum of History. She marveled at Thracian treasures, including intricately crafted gold jewelry, ceremonial objects, and burial artifacts. Artifacts from this period had incomplete magical runes carved on their surfaces. A lot of the art also had fading references to the Wizarding World.
Whenever she had a free Saturday, the witch would visit the busy Sofia Central Market Hall. Hermione had been instantly fascinated by the lively atmosphere and variety of goods. She would often wander through the stalls, enjoying the sights, sounds, and smells of the bustling marketplace. She soon came to love the aroma of fresh bread and spices. After her second month in Bulgaria, the marketplace started to feel like a home away from home.
To Hermione's delight, she had managed to make two new acquaintances. She would always stop to practice her broken Bulgarian with Milena, a friendly Muggle vendor who specialized in homemade banitsa. The middle-aged woman would never let Hermione leave until she had tried a freshly baked piece. Milena would occasionally share stories about her hometown and her nagging mother-in-law.
Nearby, she met Dimitar, a skilled artisan who crafted beautiful wooden figurines, boxes, and ornaments. Hermione had stopped one time to admire a set of traditional beautifully crafted boxes. She thought they made the perfect gift for the newlywed Potters. When she had gone to pay Dimitar told her that the boxes were custom-made. The quiet old man had simply slammed down a paper and a pencil for her to trace the design of the couple. The next time she went, she brought two bottles of Aryan–a yogurt drink mixed with water and salt and warm banitsa. And from there they started their acquaintship. In a lot of ways, Dimitar reminded Hermione of Professor Snape.
When she visited Wizarding Sofia, Hermione without fail would visit Омагьосани свитъци. Spellbound Scrolls was adorned with antique bookcases and stained glass windows. The bookstore different in almost every way to Flourish and Blotts, still felt like home. She had quickly befriended the owner, who would set aside any new books for her. She spent hours curled up on the red couch near the Magical Creatures section. The owner's wife, Anelia would bring the English witch a cup of tea.
Her first stop however was to Слънчова Пече. The bakery's owner, Albena would hold up Hermione hostage until the curly-haired witch ate at least two pastries. The old witch would send Hermione with a bag of Gevrek– a sweet sesame ring for Rada, the owner of the Apocatery store.
Delivering ingredients to the Institute became a highlight of Hermione's day. Rada, with her vibrant laugh and infectious enthusiasm, was a welcome companion. As they sorted dragon scales and moonstones, animated discussions about magical creatures, local legends, and school tales always filled the air.
Rada, with her fiery red hair and a mischievous twinkle in her hazel eyes, took every opportunity to badger Hermione into speaking Bulgarian. "Come on, veštma," she'd tease, "your accent is delightfully atrocious!" Hermione one to never back down from a challenge, took every opportunity to speak Bulgarian.
The crisp December air carried the scent of hay and dried herbs as Hermione hunched over her reports, her brow furrowed in concentration. A soft snort startled her, and she looked up to see Bluey, his fuller form silhouetted against the stable door. He hesitated for a moment, his hoof pawing the ground, before taking a tentative step closer. Hermione held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. Was he finally trusting her? A slow smile spread across her face, warming the chill in the air as she reached out a hand, her fingers trembling with anticipation.
Bluey hesitated and flinched. Hermione withdrew her hand. "It's okay," she smiled at the foal, "whenever you are ready." She straightened her back and got back to her work. The unicorn stepped closer once again, his cerulean eyes met Hermione's and he slightly bowed his head. "Are you sure?"
The unicorn swayed his head and Hermione broke out into a huge grin. With soft, careful fingers, the witch grazed Bluey's white coat. "Is this okay?" Bluey pushed up his head against her touch and Hermione complied by putting more pressure.
After a few more scratches the unicorn retreated to his usual spot. Satisfied, Hermione called it an early day and happily strode towards the dining hall.
Sunlight streamed through arched windows, painting vibrant murals of mythical creatures on the whitewashed walls of the dining hall.
The air hummed with conversation and the clinking of silverware against enchanted plates that refilled themselves with every empty scoop. The first day Hermione had eaten there, she'd been amazed. Immediately after, she had written to Minerva to explain how the magic worked and urged her to free the Hogwarts elves.
Lanterns, shaped like glowing dragonflies, cast a warm glow on mismatched tables. Professor Ivanov signaled for Hermione to sit next to him.
At a corner table sat Ana, a weathered witch with eyes like polished amber and hair braided with silver beads who chuckled heartily at a joke by Nikolai, a young wizard who had just graduated from Durmstrang.
Across from them was the Deputy Director, Georgi, an old wizard with a neatly trimmed beard tucked into a worn leather vest meticulously dissected a glistening Mooncalf liver, his brow furrowed in concentration as he muttered notes into a quill that danced across a parchment. Beside him sat Bilyana, the Research Coordinator with her fiery red hair and eyes that sparkled with mischief, devoured a plate of Baklava, her fingers stained with honey and walnuts. She regaled a group of wide-eyed first-year researchers with tales of her recent encounter with a mischievous Kneazle in Dancing Bears Trail, her voice animated and her laughter infectious.
"Well, I'll be damned." Commented, Krasimir, the burly ground's keeper. He slammed down his pint of beer. "Look who's joining us tonight!"
The rest of the team looked up. Ana's contagious smile lit up her face. "Little English cub!"
Hermione returned the smile. "Hello, Ana."
Bilyana licked her fingertips and Georgi grunted. "Have you no shame witch!" He nagged, his face contoured with disgust.
The redhead popped her finger in her mouth again. "None."
The hall erupted in laughter as the Deputy Director and the Research Coordinator continued to bicker back and forth.
"So Miss Granger," Professor Ivanov spoke up, he crossed his finger and a kind smile lifted the corners of his lips. "I take it we have good news?"
Hermione sat between the Director and Ana. She went on to cheerfully explain how Bluey had finally approached her after five months. The British witch accepted their congratulations and dug into a hearty bowl of taleshko vareno– a traditional beef and vegetable soup.
Both her heart and stomach felt full and content. She'd just made amazing progress and she was among friends and colleagues who appreciated magical creatures like she did. She couldn't be happier.
The director got up and turned to face the team. Everyone stopped talking and directed their full attention to the wizard. "As you all know the Yule festivities are approaching." Hermione nodded and made a mental note to start shopping.
"Funding cuts threaten our most vulnerable creatures, vital laws hang by a thread. We need more sponsors, and allies inside and outside the Ministry walls who share our cause. As such, the Krums have graciously agreed to host a fundraising gala!"
Hermione blinked and set her gaze on the oak table. Did she hear that right? Maybe she mistranslated a word. She shook her head. No her translation was perfect.
Her fingers began to tap restlessly against her leg. Just because his family was hosting the event didn't mean that he was going to show up. Oh, Merlin, this meant that she was going to see his wife.
