Chapter 14 – The Art and Theory of Wandlore by Gervaise Ollivander (1895)

They had left Nasuada's command tent and settled down by the fireplace outside Roran's tent. Eragon had removed all his belongings from Saphira's back, Roran helped and was pleasantly shocked to find that objects that were supposed to weigh quite a bit were weightless. Eragon explained to him that Harry had used some magic to make it so. They made makeshift seats with their bedding and sat down in silence.

Eragon rubbed his jaw where Roran's punch had landed earlier. The sting was fading, but the emotional impact lingered deeper than the bruised skin. He had expected anger, even welcomed it, but facing his cousin now, he saw something heavier in Roran's gaze.

Hurt.

Loss.

The unspoken weight of the past years pressed between them.

Roran folded his arms, standing firm. "You left," he said, voice raw. "You disappeared with Brom, and everything fell apart."

Eragon inhaled slowly. "I know."

"No, you don't know," Roran shot back venomously. "You don't know what it was like, Eragon. The Ra'zac came. They burned our home. They killed Father!" His voice broke slightly before he forced himself to continue. "They took Katrina. They took everything."

Eragon closed his eyes briefly, guilt clawing at his chest. "I never meant for any of that to happen. But I brought Garrow to Horst's, I did my best to save him. I didn't mean for things to get worse."

"But it did." Roran's hands contracted into fists, his knuckles turning pale. "And I had to fix it. I had to lead our people through the Spine, across the land, all while knowing Katrina was in their hands. Every moment, I wondered if she was suffering, if she was alive, if—" He stopped, his breath ragged. "I lost everything. And I had no one."

Silence stretched between them, only broken by the distant murmurs of the Varden's camp. Eragon silently wished for them to reconcile. He needed Roran as an ally.

"But you weren't alone," Eragon said at last. "You had Carvahall. You had Astoria. You had the strength to keep moving, to protect them. And now you're here. Roran, I swear to you Roran, I will help you get Katrina back."

Roran's eyes burned with unshed tears, but he said nothing. His fists clenched and unclenched.

"You left." Roran accused again.

Eragon took a step closer. "I left because I had to. Saphira and I would have been hunted down. We had no choice but to run. And Brom…" He hesitated. "Brom trained me. He prepared me for what's to come. I had to learn how to fight back."

"Did it ever occur to you that we needed you to fight with us?" Roran's voice was quieter now, but no less sharp. "That I needed you?"

Eragon looked away. "I was a scared little farm boy with a dragon. I didn't know what I was doing. I thought leaving would keep you all safe." He exhaled heavily. "But of course, I was wrong."

The anger in Roran's stance didn't fade completely, but his shoulders sagged slightly. "We were both trying to survive."

"Yes," Eragon agreed. "But now we don't have to do it alone." He extended his arm.

Roran hesitated. Then, slowly, he clasped Eragon's forearm in a firm grip.

A silent truce.

A promise.

For the first time in months, they were brothers again.

"We'll get her back," Eragon vowed.

Roran nodded. "We will."

Saphira rumbled softly from where she lay nearby, her eyes shining in the dim light. 'You are stronger together,' she said to Eragon, her voice warm and knowing.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce me?" Roran gestured toward Saphira, reminded of her presence by her rumbling.

'Or you can address me yourself.' She told Roran directly.

"AH! A voice in my head!" Roran gazed awestruck at Saphira while Eragon chuckled. Looking at his younger cousin in realization he asked, "she can talk?"

'What? Did you think I was as mute as a tree?'

"No forgive me! O' great and mighty dragon! Your beauty knows no bounds." Roran curtsied at this point while holding his breath.

'I like this one." Saphira ended approvingly.

Roran exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. The tension between everyone had finally eased, if only slightly. His anger had dulled into something more manageable - something closer to understanding. He shook his head, allowing a weary chuckle to escape his lips.

"You know," he said, nudging a small rock with his boot, "for all the trouble you've caused, at least you're still my cousin. That much hasn't changed. And now we have an addition to the family." He smiled at Saphira who resumed a sleeping position with closed eyelids.

Eragon offered a half-smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Roran stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen? We rescue Katrina, overthrow the Empire, and live out the rest of our days as old, grumpy men in rocking chairs." He smirked. "It's not like you're going to live forever."

Silence.

The smirk faded from Roran's face as he realized Eragon wasn't laughing. Wasn't even reacting. He just… stared, his expression unreadable.

Roran blinked. "Eragon?"

Still nothing.

A cold feeling curled in Roran's stomach. He let out a nervous chuckle. "Come on. You're joking, right?"

Eragon finally looked away, his jaw tightening. "No."

Roran took a step back, frowning. "What do you mean 'no'?"

Eragon hesitated. Then, in a quiet voice, he said, "The magic that changed me, when I was blessed by the dragons in the Agaetí Blödhren, it did more than make me stronger. It… altered me."

Roran's eyes narrowed. "Altered you how? Apart from looking more handsome…"

Eragon swallowed hard before answering. "Elves don't age the way humans do. They live for centuries, maybe even forever, unless killed. And… I'm like them now."

Roran stared. "You're saying…?"

"I won't grow old, Roran." Eragon forced himself to meet his cousin's gaze. "Not like you. Not like Katrina. Not like anyone from Carvahall."

The weight of the words settled between them, thick and suffocating. Roran opened his mouth, then closed it. His breath hitched as the realization struck him fully.

"That means…" His voice was hoarse. "You're going to watch us all die, aren't you?"

Eragon flinched. The truth of it burned in his chest like a hot iron brand.

Roran took another step back, as if physically reeling from the thought. "How long have you known?"

"Since the Agaetí," Eragon admitted, his voice heavy. "I didn't want to tell you. I didn't know how."

Roran shook his head in disbelief, running a hand through his hair. "By the gods, Eragon… You're my cousin. We grew up together. And now you're telling me that you -" He exhaled sharply, struggling to find the words.

Eragon's hands curled into fists. "I didn't choose this, Roran."

"I know," Roran said quickly. He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. "I know. But… damn it, Eragon. This isn't fair."

Eragon gave a sad, humourless chuckle. "Nothing about this has ever been fair."

Roran looked at him, truly looked at him, and for the first time, he saw it – the loneliness hidden behind Eragon's eyes, the quiet grief of someone who had already lost so much.

After a long silence, Roran sighed and shook his head. "Well," he muttered, forcing a weak smirk, "I guess I'll have to make my years count, then."

Despite himself, Eragon smiled. "You always do."

Roran clapped a hand on Eragon's shoulder, squeezing once before stepping back. "You'll figure it out, cousin. You always do."

And just like that, the weight between them didn't feel quite so heavy anymore.

Eragon and Roran sat near the flames, their conversation having settled into an easy rhythm, lighter than before but still tinged with the weight of everything that had passed between them. The smell of roasting meat and fresh bread from the Varden's camp mixed with the smoky scent of burning wood.

Footsteps approached from the shadows, and Eragon turned his head just in time to see Harry, Daphne, and Astoria stepping into the light.

"Mind if we join you?" Harry asked, holding up a satchel of something that smelled suspiciously sweet.

"Not at all," Roran grinned. "So long as you brought enough to share."

Harry smirked and tossed the bag onto the ground between them. Daphne gracefully sat beside him, Astoria plopping down next to her sister with far less care. Aëlindra trotted after them, her golden scales catching the firelight as she curled up near Harry's side, resting her head against his knee.

"What is that?" Eragon asked, nodding toward the satchel as Roran peered inside with curiosity.

"Something called 'honey-roasted nuts'," Harry said, stretching out and leaning back on his hands. "Found them in one of Varden's stores."

Roran grabbed a handful, popped a few in his mouth, then immediately made a face. "They're… crunchy," he said through chewing. "And sticky."

Astoria giggled. "That's kind of the point."

"I like them," Eragon decided, tossing a few into his own mouth.

Daphne plucked one and examined it with a sceptical glance before nibbling delicately. "Not bad," she admitted. "Still not as good as Hogwarts feasts."

"You're still mad about that overcooked roast from last month?" Harry chuckled.

"I have standards, Potter," Daphne replied loftily.

Roran rolled his eyes. "You two bicker like an old married couple."

Harry and Daphne exchanged a glance before Daphne smirked. "Funny you say that…"

"Yeah, real funny," Harry muttered under his breath.

Eragon, clearly amused, looked at Astoria. "So, you're the younger Greengrass?"

Astoria puffed out her chest. "I prefer 'The better Greengrass,' but yes."

Daphne shot her a look. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, it's not my fault I'm the charming one," Astoria said, flipping her hair dramatically.

"You do realize I can hex you in your sleep, right?"

Astoria grinned and nudged Eragon. "See? She loves me."

"Can't argue with that logic," Eragon said, laughing.

Roran, still chewing on a mouthful of sticky nuts, nodded at Harry. "So, what's it like having a dragon?"

Harry glanced down at Aëlindra, who was curled up contentedly. "It's kind of like having an energetic little sister. Who breathes fire."

"She does not!" Daphne scoffed.

Aëlindra lifted her head at the challenge, stared at Daphne for a moment, then let out a loud burp.

A jet of fire shot from her mouth.

The flames barely missed Astoria's boots before flickering into the night air.

"Blimey!" Roran yelped, scrambling backward.

Astoria shrieked, leaping to her feet. "You little menace!"

"That. Does. Not. Count." Daphne huffed without moving.

Aëlindra gave an innocent chirp before suddenly freezing.

Her eyes went blank, shimmering gold and unfocused.

Everyone went silent. The warmth of the fire seemed to dim as an invisible chill spread through the air.

Harry's stomach twisted. "Aëlindra?"

She didn't respond. Her breathing was slow but steady, her gaze locked onto something unseen.

A moment later, she shuddered. Her tail curled tightly around her body, and a strange energy pulsed through her form.

Then, in a voice not entirely on her own, she spoke.

"A blade of steel, a wand of fate.
The storm rages, the shadow waits.
A warrior rises, a battle untold.
Fire and lightning, a destiny unfolds."

The words left her mouth in an eerie whisper, sending shivers through those gathered around the fire.

Then, as suddenly as it started, it ended.

Aëlindra blinked, her pupils dilating back to normal. She let out a tiny hiccup, a wisp of smoke escaping from her nostrils. She was seemingly oblivious to what just happened.

Daphne, stunned, looked at Harry. "What just happened?"

Both Harry and Daphne's minds were assaulted with an overpowering vision as Aëlindra spoke.

Harry didn't answer immediately. His mind reeled from the vision, from the words.

But more than anything, from the image that had flashed through his mind the moment Aëlindra spoke -

Roran, holding a wand, duelling against a shadowy figure.

Roran looked around uneasily. "Okay… not sure what that was, but I don't like it."

Daphne exhaled. 'Harry?'

'Yeah?'

'Did you see –'

'Yeah.'

Harry turned his attention back to Roran, watching him carefully.

Something about this… felt important.

As the group settled from the unsettling experience, Daphne sent another thought through their bond.

'Harry, what if… we made Roran try using a wand?'

Harry's eyes flickered to her in surprise. 'You think it would work?'

'He was in the vision,' she pointed out. 'And you saw it, he had a wand.'

'That doesn't mean he can actually use one.'

'Then let's test it,' Daphne pressed. 'What do we have to lose?'

Harry hesitated, then let out a breath. 'Fine.'

Clearing his throat, he turned to Roran. "Hey, Roran. Catch."

Roran barely had time to react before Harry tossed him his holly and phoenix wand.

The moment Roran's fingers wrapped around the handle, something shifted in the air.

A faint hum of magic pulsed around him, like static electricity before a storm.

And then… sparks erupted from the tip.

Tiny golden embers, flickering in the dark like fireflies.

Roran froze.

Eragon's eyes widened.

Astoria gasped.

Daphne's lips parted in shock.

Harry just stared.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then Roran, staring at the wand in his hand as if it might explode, muttered:

"…What the hell?"

-oIo-

The Gryffindor girls' dormitory was highlighted in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the high windows. Most of the four poster beds were curtained off, the sounds of slow, steady breathing filling the room as the other girls slept. Or in Lavender's case – snoring.

Hermione Granger, however, was wide awake.

She was curled up in bed, her hair in a messy halo around her pillow, wearing nothing but her white undies. A romance novel lay open beside her, the words swimming in front of her eyes as she closed her eyes and bit her lower lip from the rhythmic movements of her right hand.

That activity came to a screeching halt when a loud CRACK! echoed through the dormitory.

Hermione yelped and bolted upright, her book tumbling to the floor and fingers exiting her underwear.

Perched precariously on top of her bed, feet tangled in her blanket, was a wide-eyed house-elf wearing a pillowcase like a tunic and too many colourful socks on his feet.

"DOBBY?!"

"Miss Hermione!" Dobby squeaked, his huge, tennis-ball eyes brimming with excitement. "Oh, Dobby is most sorry for startling Miss Hermione! But Dobby had to come! Dobby has urgent news about Harry Potter!"

Hermione's heart slammed against her ribs. "What?! What do you mean? Where is he?! How did you?" She pulled the blankets up to her chest as she fully realized the situation. "And what the bloody hell are you doing in my bed?!"

Dobby's ears flapped wildly as he scrambled off her, landing with a soft plop on the floor. "Oh, Miss Hermione, Dobby is terribly sorry! But Dobby has travelled far, far beyond this world, beyond the magic of Hogwarts itself! And Dobby brings news! News of Harry Potter!"

Hermione's breath hitched. "You - you've seen him?"

Dobby nodded so fast his ears flopped around like a dog's. "Yes, yes! Dobby has seen Harry Potter! And Harry Potter has sent Dobby to bring a message to Miss Hermione, because he is knowing that Miss Hermione would worry very, very much!"

Hermione clutched her sheets. "Well? Spit it out, then!"

Dobby straightened, puffing out his tiny chest with great importance. "Dobby is to tell Miss Hermione that Harry Potter is alive and well! That he is safe, that he is not alone, and that he is with his Miss Daphne and her Miss Astoria!"

Hermione's jaw dropped. "His what now?"

Dobby beamed. "His Miss Daphne!"

Hermione blinked rapidly, her brain struggling to process this information.

Harry was alive, yes, that part was good. Fantastic, even! But… Daphne? And Astoria? Since when was Greengrass involved in any of this?

"Dobby," Hermione said slowly, carefully, as if speaking to an excitable child. "What exactly do you mean by his Miss Daphne?"

Dobby giggled. "Oh, Miss Hermione is so smart! But Miss Hermione is also very behind! Dobby cannot say too much, but oh, it is so exciting! Harry Potter has a bond, a powerful bond! Magic that is very, very old!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Dobby…"

Dobby looked far too pleased with himself.

Then another thought hit her. "Wait—where is he?"

Dobby's ears drooped slightly. "Ah… that, Miss Hermione, is tricky."

Hermione sat up straighter. "Tricky how?"

Dobby shuffled his feet. "Harry Potter is in a place beyond Miss Hermione's world. A place of great magic and dragons and elves!" His voice dropped to a whisper. "A place that is not Earth."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. "Not… Earth?"

Dobby nodded gravely. "Yes, yes! But do not be worrying! Dobby is bringing good news, not bad news! Harry Potter is strong, and Miss Daphne and Miss Astoria are strong! And oh! They have met the Dragon Riders!"

Hermione opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

"Dragon… Riders." She tilted her head, lost in thought.

Dobby nodded enthusiastically.

Hermione slowly pressed her hands into her temples. "I… I don't even know where to begin."

Dobby beamed. "Then Dobby has done his job very well!"

At that moment, a groggy, very irritated Lavender Brown in a lacy Weird Sister's nightdress poked her head through her bed curtains.

"Hermione," she grumbled, voice thick with sleep, "why is there an elf in your bed?"

Dobby gasped in horror and immediately vanished with a loud CRACK.

Lavender stared at the now empty space.

Hermione let out a long, long sigh. "…It's a long story."

The moment Dobby vanished, Hermione sat frozen in her bed, her mind racing.

'Not on Earth. Not on Earth. Not on Earth.'

Dobby had said it so casually, as if Harry had just popped over to France for the weekend instead of leaving the entire bloody planet. And what was that about Dragon Riders? She swung her legs over the side of the bed, ignoring Lavender's confused muttering as she stared blankly at the floor.

'Alright, Hermione, think logically. If Harry isn't on Earth, then where is he?'

She stood abruptly, pacing beside her bed. Twirling her curls between her index and thumb in anxiety.

'Other planets? Other realms? Pocket dimensions? Parallel universes? A magical plane of existence?'

She gasped as she accidentally pulled out a few strands of her hair.

"Okaaay. I will leave you to it then, goodnight." Lavender yawned and made her way back to her bed.

'NO! Stop, focus! Dragons. Magic. Elves. Old magic. What connects those things?'

She pulled her nightshirt over her head and yanked on her uniform with quick, jerky movements, her thoughts moving faster than her hands. Could it be an ancient wizarding civilization lost to time? Maybe something like Atlantis, but for wizards? Or had he somehow stumbled into a book? Some magical literature trap like that time they found Tom Riddle's diary.

No, that was stupid.

After a quick Scourgify, her underwear was clean. Foregoing her bra, she threw her school robes on, jammed her tie into place, snatched up her wand, and muttered, "Lumos." The soft glow filled the room, illuminating her wildly overthinking expression in the mirror.

She huffed. "Alright, Granger. You need facts."

She needed books.

She needed to get to the library.

And she really didn't need McGonagall catching her sneaking out past curfew.

She quickly crossed the room to her trunk, digging beneath layers of meticulously folded robes and books until her fingers brushed against something soft, something silken and familiar.

The Invisibility Cloak.

She hesitated, chewing her lip. She had "borrowed it" before, although mostly to help Harry and Ron but never for herself. Then again, Harry had left... She was just taking care of it. And if anyone was going to figure this mystery out, it was going to be her. Taking a deep breath, she threw the cloak over her shoulders, watching in satisfaction as her body vanished beneath its folds.

The halls of Hogwarts were eerily silent at this hour, the only sounds the occasional shifting of the castle's ancient walls and the distant creak of unseen footsteps. Hermione moved swiftly, the cloak billowing softly around her as she descended the stairs toward the library.

She muttered to herself under her breath, unable to stop the constant stream of thoughts from verbalizing.

"Alright, step one: categorize potential destinations. We are looking for realms with known magical connections to dragons, elves, and wizards. Step two: identify magical transportation methods that could theoretically displace someone across dimensions. Step three: locate any historical records on inter-world or inter-dimensional travel…"

She nearly walked into a suit of armour, stopping just in time to avoid sending it crashing to the floor.

"Merlin's beard," she hissed, gripping her chest.

Regaining her composure, she pushed forward, her steps quieter now as she approached the heavy doors of the library. She slipped inside, grateful that Madam Pince had locked the Restricted Section separately, no need to deal with her wrath tonight. Her fingers skimmed the spines of countless books, her mind a whirlwind of possibilities.

'Come on, there has to be something.'

She pulled a massive tome from the shelf. She had remembered seeing this book back in second year when searching for Slytherin's monster.

"Theories of Ancient Magics and Lost Civilizations. Promising," she murmured, carrying it over to a desk.

Dropping into a chair, she flipped through the pages with quick precision, scanning for any mention of dragons, elves, and portals.

"Alagaësia… Du Weldenvarden… Riders… Wait! What?!"

"Alagaësia."

She whispered the name aloud. It was so unfamiliar.

The text spoke of an ancient land, filled with magical beings, bonded dragon riders, and powerful enchantments woven into the very air.

A land separated from Earth's known magical territories.

A land almost mythical.

Blood magic.

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest.

She snapped the book shut.

"No. Bloody. Way."

-oIo-

The sky above the Varden's encampment was dark with murky clouds, the distant rumble of thunder (which Harry though sounded like a Harley) a quiet warning of the storm brewing and not just in the sky, but on the battlefield that awaited them. Harry's nightmares persisted ever so strongly.

Battlefield.

Graveyard.

Cedric.

Harry shuddered.

'Relax.' Aëlindra soothed him.

-oIo-

In a secluded section of the camp, inside a makeshift tent reinforced with magic, three figures sat huddled around a flickering lantern, their voices hushed yet urgent. The sun had yet to rise but Harry, Daphne, and Astoria were busy.

Their conversation was centred around Dobby. Who now served Harry.

"We need to make a list," Daphne murmured, fingers tapping against her knee impatiently. "Anything we might need from home, like, anything that could give us an advantage."

Harry sat cross-legged, deep in thought. "Well, for starters, I need my Invisibility Cloak."

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you leave it in your trunk?" He had told her everything. She knew about every single item he owned, which wasn't much.

Harry shook his head. "No, I thought I did, but it wasn't there. I don't know where it is." His green eyes darkened with concern. "I need that cloak, Daph. It could be crucial in this fight. Plus, it was my dad's…" He trailed off solemnly.

Daphne sighed. "Alright. We'll add it to the list."

Astoria, who had been quiet up until now, fidgeted slightly. "If we're sending Dobby back, I want to send a letter to Mother and Father."

Daphne turned to her, nodding immediately. "I agree. They should know we're alive."

Astoria bit her lip. "I know they'll be furious, especially Father, but they deserve to know where we are. And if things go wrong… well, at least they'll have a final message from us."

Harry reached over, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "Nothing's going to happen to us. We'll get through this."

Astoria gave a small, grateful smile, though her grip on Harry's hand lingered. She had also grown up on stories of the mighty boy-who-lived.

Daphne leaned forward, pulling a scrap of parchment from her pocket. "Alright, so we need your cloak, letters to our parents…" She hesitated, then narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "We need one more thing."

Harry and Astoria both turned to her.

Daphne tapped the parchment with her wand, adding a new line with elegant script.

"A book on wand-making."

Harry blinked. "A book on what?"

Daphne smirked. "Wand-making, Potter. We're in a world where magic works differently, where people don't rely on wands the way we do. But that doesn't mean they can't. If we're going into battle, we should give Roran a proper weapon."

Astoria's eyes widened. "You're going to make him a wand?"

"That's the plan. Unless you prefer his current wand?"

Astoria turned a deep shade of beet and looked down.

Harry rolled his eyes and folded his arms, thinking. "Daphne, do you even know how to make one?"

Daphne scoffed. "Of course not. But that's why I'm sending Dobby to Flourish and Blotts. There's a book called The Art and Theory of Wandlore, one of the only comprehensive guides on the subject. If we get it, I can study it. I don't need to be Ollivander; I just need to make something that works."

Harry let out a low whistle. "You really think you can pull it off?"

Daphne tilted her head, a sexy smirk playing on her lips. "Give me a book, time, and the right materials? Watch me."

Astoria clapped her hands together. "I love this plan. Roran already fights like a madman with a hammer, imagine what he could do with a wand!" then she blanched as she realized what she said.

Harry and Daphne burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Harry even slipped off the seat and started banging the floor with his fists.

Harry eventually stopped when Daphne sent him a mental image of him cleaning Aëlindra's teeth.

"Alright, I'm sold. Let's call DOBBY." He said Dobby's name loudly.

With a loud CRACK, Dobby appeared in the centre of the tent, his large eyes wide with excitement.

"Harry Potter calls for Dobby?"

Harry smiled. "We've got a job for you, Dobby."

Dobby beamed. "Oh, Dobby is always ready to help Harry Potter and his friends!"

Daphne handed him the parchment. "We need you to return to our world and get these items. The Invisibility Cloak, our letters, and most importantly, this book. Get Hermione to help you with the cloak. She may know who has it."

Dobby took the list reverently, nodding so fast his ears flopped. "Dobby understands! Dobby will find these things and bring them back at once!"

Harry hesitated. "Dobby… are you sure you're alright doing this? You've already crossed between worlds once. We don't know how dangerous it is."

Dobby puffed out his tiny chest. "Dobby is safe! Dobby will go, and Dobby will return! Harry Potter must be ready for battle, and Dobby will make sure he is!"

Daphne smirked. "Now that's a proper house-elf."

With one final nod, Dobby snapped his fingers—and vanished into thin air.

The three of them sat in silence for a moment.

Then Astoria grinned. "You know, I think we just might win this."

Harry leaned back, his smile slow and confident. "Yeah… I think we might."

-oIo-

Hermione Granger paced anxiously in the Gryffindor common room, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The fire had long since died down to embers, and the castle was shrouded in the deep silence of the late night. Everyone else was asleep – everyone except her.

She couldn't sleep. Not when Harry and Daphne – and now apparently the little Greengrass to – had vanished. Not when every rational attempt to find them had failed.

The professors had assured the students that an investigation was underway, that Dumbledore himself was looking into the matter. But Hermione knew better. If something had happened to Harry, she wouldn't just sit idly by and wait.

No.

She needed to act.

Her gaze flickered toward the entrance to the common room. She knew where she needed to go.

Dumbledore's office.

Throwing the cloak over herself, she made her way out of the portrait.

The halls of Hogwarts were unnervingly quiet as Hermione crept through the corridors; her wand gripped tightly in one hand. She had learned how to move silently over the years, thanks to Harry's frequent rule-breaking adventures.

She reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office and whispered, "Lemon Sherbet."

The gargoyle didn't move.

She frowned and tried again. "Acid Pop? Chocolate Frog?"

Nothing.

She huffed in frustration. The passwords had changed.

A soft rustling sound made her spin around, her heart pounding. The torchlight flickered ominously, casting long shadows against the stone walls. But there was no one there.

Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself. If she couldn't get inside the office, she had another option.

Fawkes.

The fiery phoenix was as much a guardian of the Headmaster's office as the gargoyle, and Hermione had seen firsthand the incredible bond between the bird and Dumbledore. If anyone could summon him, it was Fawkes.

Stepping closer to the door, she called out softly, "Fawkes? Please… I need your help."

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, from within the office, a soft trill echoed through the air. A warm golden light seeped through the cracks of the wooden door. Hermione's breath hitched as the door swung open just a fraction, just enough for a brilliant red-and-gold blur to slip through.

Fawkes hovered before her, his glowing eyes filled with quiet understanding.

"Please," she whispered. "Fetch Professor Dumbledore. It's urgent."

Fawkes let out a soft note before vanishing in a burst of flame.

Hermione let out a shaky breath. Now all she could do was wait.

And wait.

Was eleven and a half inches enough for her Arithmancy assignment? She was only required to do nine inches. Wait, no, focus on finding Harry.

A Time-Turner? No, that wouldn't help.

A summoning spell? She had already tried that on Harry's wand, but it hadn't worked.

Portkeys? They required specific destination anchoring.

Her frustration grew as each option fell apart under scrutiny. But then, a new thought struck her—one that made her heart race.

What if there was a portal? Like in muggle movies?

Her fingers trembled as she dug through her bag, pulling out a well-worn copy of Hogwarts: A History. If Hogwarts had ever had records of magical rifts or interdimensional travel, it would be mentioned somewhere.

She flipped through the pages furiously, scanning for anything related to magical anomalies, portals, or anything remotely resembling the phenomenon that had taken Harry and Daphne.

And then…

She found it.

Her eyes widened as she read the passage:

"There have been ancient records of magical gateways that exist beyond our world, known only to a select few. These doorways, often hidden in places of immense magical concentration, are thought to lead to other planes of existence. Wizards of old sought to control these paths, but their knowledge was lost to time as every witch or wizard who tried, was drained of their soul…"

Her breath hitched.

Could it be possible?

Before she could dwell on it further, a familiar voice behind her made her spin around.

"Hermione, my dear girl, it is far too late for you to be wandering the halls."

Dumbledore stood before her, his eyes twinkling with both amusement and concern.

Hermione didn't hesitate. "Professor, I think I know how to find Harry."