For Oblivion is Written in the Laws of Men
"You know, the Oxford Latin Dictionary is of no use if you want to craft a spell."
The words startled Hermione, distracting her from the heavy tome in front of her. More than that, the words irked her, feeling a threat and a challenge at her intelligence. She lifted her eyes to seek out the offender.
A boy, dark haired and green eyed, with a black notebook in one hand, propped lazily against a bookcase. It was Potter, from Slytherin, in the same year as her and, if one preferred dramatics, her nemesis, her competition for the first in ranking. Quiet, seldom seen, he hadn't spoken once to her. To hear him now demean her efforts, after he had proven himself better than her year after year, more than irked her.
"I'll have you know." she began speaking, but the boy interrupted her, and she grew more furious.
"I'm not questioning the quality of the dictionary just because it's a Muggle one. It's probably the best one can find. And there lies the trouble. It's useless because it's correct."
Hearing the absurdity flowing out of his mouth, she was quick to correct him: "Haven't you listened to Professor Flitwick. Saying the incantation properly is very important. So choosing the correct spelling is even more important if somebody wants to create a proper incantation."
The boy had the gall to laugh at her: "How many spells have you learned that are correct Latin. And I didn't talk about spelling. Choosing the correct word for an incantation is sometimes the dumbest thing you could do."
She started contradicting him again, but he, quite stupidly in her opinion, kept going on with his absurdities: "When did wizards first start using Latin incantations, Granger?"
"The Romans used them first, but most of the spells we use now are of medieval or modern make. But I fail to see how that's relevant to the discussion."
"Do you think that medieval wizards had a correct notion of etymology, unlike Oxford professors. The medievals relied on superficial similarities, talked about spiritual background. Their etymology was half symbolic, much like magic itself. They would argue that mors comes from morsus, death from bite, just because Adam and Eve become mortal by biting the apple of the forbidden tree. Or that littera comes from legere and iter, because letters offers a road for people to read."
"That's nice to know, I guess, but I fail to understand how that's relevant to incantations" said Hermione, increasingly irate and facing an obstacle for her reading in peace.
"Precisely because medieval etymology had a spiritual background, or for wizards a magical-symbological one, if you want to make a spell you need to use a book that clarifies medieval etymology. A great deal of magic is believing, and they believed in such meanings, thus giving them power. Creating an incantation is not a scientifical, clinical pursuit and using that Oxford dictionary you'll end up with one that lacks any useful magical meaning or symbolism," said Potter.
"This stuff should be in a book. I don't know where you found out this, but such knowledge should be available for all who wish to learn" answered Hermione.
"Maybe you haven't found the right book. Though I have to thank Aunt Bathilda for figuring this out, it isn't that easy to figure it alone, if you know where to look."
Seeing as he knew more about spellcrafting than her, Hermione, with a great deal of reluctance, made him an offer: "I don't suppose you would like to join me for studying, at least until I figure out an incantation?"
"I would love to", he spoke again, with a tone that belied a certain lack of sincerity, "but I simply do not have the time. And I much prefer studying alone."
"But you don't do anything besides studying. You don't play Quidditch, you're not in any clubs, and you don't have any friends to spend time with them. And they say two minds are better than one. I could help you figure out if you make a mistake in your homework."
"I don't play Quidditch because Flint made Malfoy in exchange for Senior bribing the team with brooms."
"I thought that every team got new brooms that year, not only Slytherin." said Hermione, bewildered.
"I couldn't let that slight to meritocracy go unanswered. And they refused to let me on the team afterwards, even as Chaser. To get back on topic, I'm in no Hogwarts club because they're utterly boring. And I'll have you know I do plenty of stuff with my time. There's Potions and Herbology, and reading, for pleasure. And friends are kinda overrated."
"But if you really need help, I think you can find Isidore of Seville's Etymologiae on some shelf."
And with that, Potter picked up his book bag, laying at his feet and left the library. But not with a parting shot: "By the way, send my thanks to your father when you next write to him."
His last words didn't make any sense. Potter was a Slytherin, most likely a rich Pureblood, judging by his clothes and bearing, and the fact that he always had the best equipment. There was no way he knew her father, at least, without her in turn knowing about that. She tried to make sense of it for a moment, but to no avail.
Burning for an answer, she sat up from her table and ran after him, catching up in the hallway.
"Why do you need to thank my father? And how do you even know him?"
"First of October, 1981. A couple of miles at sea outside the port of Bideford. Just write to him, he'll know what I'm talking about."
Hermione tried again to parse his meaning, again coming up blank. She never heard her father talk about that specific day. Her moment of thinking was just enough for Potter to make himself unseen. She gave up on finding him again, or trying to get something clearer from him, and resolved to write to her father at the soonest opportunity and get to the bottom of it.