Given Blaise's anger about the whole thing, Hermione figured she'd avoid involving him in creating the Elixir of Life this time. She knew how to do it now, after all, and it wasn't dangerous, so she could do it as soon as she had a free moment to go down to the Chamber of Secrets. And while she had no intentions of mentioning her potential treatment plan to Neville, she did fill him in on what she'd learned about his parents the next day, pulling him aside during Care of Magical Creatures.
"I… I don't know what most of this means," Neville admitted, looking over Hermione's letter with wide eyes. "Are these muggle diseases? Conditions?"
"Mostly," Hermione agreed, keeping well clear of the crate of remaining Blast-Ended Skrewts, which had only grown larger and more aggressive with time.
"Neuroplasticity," Neville murmured to himself, reading her father's suggestions. "I might be able to help with that. Possibly. It certainly wouldn't hurt…"
"Really?" Hermione asked, surprised. "I'm surprised you recognize the term. I had to look it up. It's a fairly specific medical thing."
"It's in a couple of my supplemental Herbology books," Neville told her, smiling. "I got one specifically on fungi, and you'd be amazed what all fungi can do. There's this one mushroom – called 'Lion's Mane', if you believe it, how appropriate and Gryffindor is that? – and it can help stimulate the growth of new brain cells." He grinned. "Worth a try, right?"
"It can? That's incredible!" Hermione said, meaning it.
"It's pretty rare," Neville admitted, frowning slightly. "And it doesn't last long. But there are specialty growers that sell growing kits, so I can grow it myself. It might take a month or so, and I'll have to ask Professor Sprout to give me a research space in one of the greenhouses, but I'm sure she'd let me if I explain what it's for."
"I thought fungi just kind of decomposed dead stuff," Hermione admitted, laughing. "I didn't realize they had magical properties."
"I don't think it's even a magical property, to be honest," Neville told her, blushing a bit. "I mean. It's not a magical plant. Not really, I think. Fungi are just like that. They're incredibly good for you and useful. Did you know they're used to clean up nundu incidents?"
"They are?"
"Well, when a nundu dies, it stops breathing," Neville said, "so you don't have to worry about its deadly breath killing you. But the poison gland inside of it is still active for a while after death, so you do have to worry about that decomposing and getting into the water supply. Whole villages have died from dead nundus."
"That's horrible," Hermione said, appalled. "How are people supposed to know when a nundu dies in the wild? If it's too far away for them to realize?"
Neville shrugged. "Right? Anyway, Herbologists cultivated a particular fungus that can be used in and around the soil where the nundu decomposed and died, and it'll actually pull the poisons out of the ground and use them to grow. It's incredible. And then so long as no one eats the resulting fungus, the problem's solved."
"Wait, go back," Hermione said, faltering. "This mushroom actually pulls the poison out of the ground?"
"I'm not sure if it's a mushroom, but yes, essentially," Neville said with a smile. "That's exactly what the fungus does."
Hermione blinked. "…do they make growing kits for that one, too?"
To Hermione's consternation, even with the circlet, boys still flocked around Fleur, and it was hard to physically get to her to discuss anything. And while Hermione had a relatively easy time talking to any of the Durmstrang students, she had the distinct advantage of sitting next to them (and their de facto leader), while the Beauxbatons students sat with the older Ravenclaws.
After multiple failed attempts at trying to reach Fleur to pull her aside after a meal, Hermione finally enchanted a piece of parchment into a butterfly and sent it over, asking Fleur to meet her after dinner. She lost sight of the butterfly as it flew across the Great Hall, dodging low-hovering candles, before turning back to half-listen to the table's discussion of what the best casual brooms were.
To Hermione's pleased surprise, her butterfly seemed to have made it; Fleur approached her in the Entrance Way after dinner, looking subdued as she sat next to Hermione on the stone bench. She seemed anxious in a way that wasn't like her, her pallor rather wan.
"Fleur?" Hermione asked in alarm. "Are you okay?"
"You wanted to talk to me?" Fleur said. Her voice seemed almost tentative.
Hermione blinked.
"I mean, yes, I did, but that's not important – I wanted to know if you wanted to work on an Alchemy project with me if you weren't too busy," Hermione said. Gentle, she reached for Fleur, holding her hand with worry in her eyes. "But Fleur – you look awful. Are you okay? Are you sleeping enough?"
Fleur looked at Hermione in confusion. Hermione just looked back at her blankly.
"…are you under a geas not to tell me what's wrong?" Hermione asked, guessing. "Is there an Unbreakable Vow? You're not allowed to discuss it with—"
"You are not upset?" Fleur asked abruptly.
"Upset?" Hermione echoed, surprised. "Um. No. Not yet, at least. Should I be? Is someone hurting you?"
"Upset with me," Fleur clarified.
"For you not being able to tell me what's wrong?" Hermione asked, puzzled. "No? I mean, if you could indicate if that's what's going on somehow, it'd be easier, but—"
Fleur threw up her hands in frustration, tears glimmering in her eyes. "Non! Nothing is wrong, other than I am a horrible person—"
"What?" Hermione said in alarm. "Fleur! I don't know who's been saying that, but you're not a horrible person! Not even a little bit! What's going on? Come on – here, come with me—"
She managed to guide Fleur to a back staircase to sit on a window ledge on the landing with her, a less public place for Fleur to break down if necessary. Fleur followed silently, though tears were silently escaping her eyes from time to time.
"Fleur, I don't know what's wrong, but if you tell me, I will try and make it better," Hermione promised her, squeezing her hands. "I'm sorry I haven't been around much lately – Harry being chosen for the tournament threw us all for a wrench, and it's been a mess figuring out how to handle that for the coven, believe me. But I didn't mean to ignore you or deprioritize you."
Fleur ignored everything Hermione said, shaking her head and gesturing.
"Forget that," she said impatiently, her voice somewhat broken. "What did you want to talk to me for?"
"Err… I imagine you're going through your own stress and training for the tournament," Hermione said, hesitating. "But if you wanted to, I wanted to invite you to work on an Alchemy project with me. I thought you might find it interesting, and it would be fun to do together."
At that, Fleur gave a sob, and abruptly threw herself at Hermione. Hermione instinctively opened her arms to catch her, only it wasn't really quite as forceful as she'd feared, so it wasn't so much 'catching' her as it was hugging her, and then Fleur was sobbing into her shoulder, holding Hermione as tightly as she could. Hermione's eyes were wide, but she did her best to rub Fleur's back and try and soothe her to calm her down - hopefully, enough that Fleur would be able to tell her exactly what was going on.
Fleur pulled back from Hermione's shoulder with a sucking gasp.
"I thought you hated me," she gasped, beautiful blue eyes glimmering with tears. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with me—"
"Hated you?" Hermione repeated, incredulous. "Fleur! Never – I didn't talk to you for a few days, but everything's just been so busy – I'm sorry if you felt neglected—"
"And you apologize to me!" Fleur cried out, dashing tears from her eyes. "Even in the face of my affront, you are moved by my emotions, and you offer me comfort and sympathy! When I am the awful one, the guilty one, the oath-breaker—"
"Oath breaker?" Hermione repeated, alarmed. "Fleur, are you okay? You didn't pull out of the tournament, did you?"
"Non, non, I did not," Fleur said impatiently, waving Hermione's worry away. "But that is exactly the problem!"
"But you can't pull out of the tournament safely," Hermione said anxiously. "It's a binding magical contract – it'll destroy your magic. But you're brilliant, Fleur – I know it's scary, but I'm sure you'll be okay—"
Fleur exclaimed something loudly and passionately in French, and then she had thrown herself onto Hermione again, crying in earnest. Hermione found herself wishing that maybe she hadn't moved them to quite so private of an area, so maybe one of the other Beauxbatons students could have happened by and helped her understand what miscommunication was going on.
When Fleur calmed down enough to speak the next time, she was steadier, able to hold Hermione's gaze without crying again.
"I thought you hated me," Fleur managed, keeping her voice steady, "because I cannot court you."
Hermione was puzzled.
"You told me that already, though," she said. "About Madame Maxime and the tournament? So once you were chosen, I mean, I could follow the logic and understand that you being champion meant you wouldn't be able to formally court me—"
"But I gave you the butterfly," Fleur emphasized. "I promised you I would. And you wore it for me, in front of everyone. And now—and now, wretched me, I am not, despite telling you I would—"
Hermione bit her lip, watching Fleur work herself up again.
"I think this might be something of a cultural difference," Hermione said finally. "Is it very insulting for someone to offer a courting gift and then not court that person?"
"Yes!" Fleur exclaimed. "It is—it is a terrible insult. And for you to sit here—for you to talk to me like this—after I—"
"Fleur," Hermione said, her voice gentle. "Fleur, there are extenuating circumstances. It's okay. Really."
Fleur's eyes were wet, and Hermione smiled at her, reassuring.
"So maybe you can't court me yet," Hermione said, her lips quirked. "Oh well. You can do it next year – move to Britain and get a job here. We're both still so young, Fleur. And you're champion – it's okay to focus on that this year, on the tournament and staying alive. We can figure out us formally afterward, alright?"
Fleur laughed, the sound watery.
"You—you are too understanding, Hermione, and too kind," she said. "You should not forgive me so easily. But I am weak, and I am selfish, and I will take anything you give to me – your forgiveness, your kindness, your friendship – and clutch it dear."
A wry smile touched Hermione's lips. "Fleur, it's okay. Really. I promise. If you're okay now, though, I have a project idea that I think might distract you enough to stop crying."
Fleur had stopped crying enough to be intrigued by the secret passageway down into the Chamber of Secrets, and she was struck by the carving of Slytherin within the chamber. She admired it, murmuring something about the Sublime, before returning to Hermione, asking her about her proposed Alchemy project.
Only when Hermione explained, that seemed to set Fleur off again.
"You want—you want us—" she said, astonished. "After the insult I have dealt you, you tell me your deepest secret, and you offer to share that knowledge with me—"
"I'd hardly say the Philosopher's Stone is my deepest secret," Hermione said, her hands on her hips. She was starting to get annoyed. "And I'm going to be more insulted if you keep telling me that I should be insulted when I've already told you I'm not."
Fleur laughed, shook her head, then drew herself up again, taking a deep breath.
"I apologize," she said. She offered Hermione an apologetic smile. "I have—I have found controlling my emotions more difficult, since coming of age. I am working on it."
"Oh," Hermione said, blinking. "Well that sounds miserable. I wonder if it's related to your allure?"
"Very probably," Fleur agreed. She clapped her hands. "So! We are making the Elixir of Life, yes?"
Very quickly, Hermione found herself having fun. Fleur knew more about Alchemy than she did and had spoken with Perenelle Flamel directly too, so she was able to follow Hermione's explanations and leaps of logic effortlessly, her mind even racing along the same train of thought faster than Hermione's.
"So you used a Fuji apple, and were successful, but this does not mean another apple would not have worked, yes?" Fleur asked, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
"Exactly," Hermione said, pleased. "I'm hoping if we can figure out how to mimic the results of the Philosopher's Stone with runes, we can run multiple tests at a time to figure out what exactly is needed and what isn't."
"It is a shame there is only one Philosopher's Stone," Fleur mused. "If we can figure out a way to tie the Philosopher's Stone to multiple golden cauldrons, we could attempt all the transmutations at once."
Hermione's jaw dropped. "Is that possible?"
"Who could say?" Fleur shrugged, eyes dancing. "We could try."
Fleur conjured a blanket, and they laid down on it, sketching ideas on parchment, discussing possible ways of pulling it off.
"If we presume we have all the material components," Fleur said, writing gold cauldrons (?) in elegant script off to the side, "we have two major obstacles: the transmutation of each fruit taking place in isolation, while the energy of transmutation needs to be shared between the cauldrons."
"So we can't just use runic pathways to circulate the water," Hermione said, frowning. "Drat. That would have been easier."
"In theory." Fleur smiled. "In actuality, probably not – water floating through the air would be vulnerable to much evaporation, which would probably create more problems than solve."
Hermione laughed. "That's fair."
Eventually, they had sketched out a loose drawing of six gold cauldrons – a large gold one in the middle, with five smaller ones spaced out around it in a pentacle. There were descriptions of the runic paths and circles that would need to be inscribed around and between each one.
"This relies on the stone either being able to extend its power out, or being able to 'prime' the water for transmutation," Fleur said, writing. "I am not sure it can do either."
Hermione bit her lip. "We could ask?"
Fleur looked at Hermione strangely. "Who, Perenelle? I would not—"
"No, no," Hermione said hastily. "I mean we could ask the Stone."
There was a pause.
"Ask the stone." Fleur's voice was flat.
Hermione laughed. "It's a bit hard to understand, but you might have better luck than I ever did."
Once she understood what Hermione meant, Fleur took communicating with the Philosopher's Stone very seriously. She arranged the blanket around her, conjured a receiving velvet handkerchief to set the stone upon, and took the tiara out of her hair. Her hair fell loose in shining waves, and though Hermione flushed at her beauty, Fleur's knowing look was wicked.
"I'm not—I don't feel the allure!" Hermione said hastily. "It's just – you're very beautiful, especially with your hair—"
"I understand," Fleur said, her smile warm. "You appreciate and admire, in an aesthetic sense. You do not covet. Believe me, Hermione – I have learned to discern the difference."
Fleur sat up very straight, her long legs folded elegantly in front of her as she meditated, and Hermione watched her breathing even out as she sank into her magical core. She wondered how Fleur visualized her own magic – did she hear music? Was there a spinning ball? Maybe it was a bird inside her, crooning to be let free.
"I am ready." Fleur's eyes remained closed, though her voice was strong. "I will speak to the Stone."
Obliging, Hermione withdrew the Philosopher's Stone from her pocket and put it on Fleur's formal little receiving blanket, where Fleur put a hand upon it and took a deep breath, steadying herself.
They sat in silence for a while. It was a little alarming to watch, honestly – it took what seemed like minutes for Fleur to finally exhale, before drawing breath again – and Fleur seemed to gradually grow paler and wilt as she talked to the Stone. When she finally opened her eyes, it was with a weak smile, and she gestured for Hermione to take the stone, which she hurriedly did.
"How are you?" Hermione asked, worried. "I remember it being draining, for me."
"Oh, yes," Fleur agreed immediately. Her voice was tired but triumphant. "But this makes sense. Our minds have long since lost the ability to speak in pure ideas without language, so our magic must compensate. It is natural that it would be very tiring. But I imagine it improves with practice."
Hermione was curious. "…pure ideas without language?"
Fleur laughed.
"First," she said, nudging Hermione affectionately, "let us determine how to get the material components we need for this Alchemy. Then after, if there is time, I will explain to you Plato's allegory of the cave and the theory of forms."
