The Beast led her through the grand passageway, as she'd come to think about it. After walking for some time, they reached a large set of double doors. He paused in front of it. "Here we are," he said.
He pushed the doors open and stepped inside. Hermione followed slowly. Awe filled her as she stepped into one of the grandest libraries she'd ever seen. While she loved the library at Hogwarts, the splendor of this library put it to shame. The space was wide and open, with bookshelves climbing high into the ceiling. It was at least three stories high.
"You like it?" The Beast asked Hermione.
"I love it," she breathed. "I think this is the most wonderful library I've ever seen."
He looked around the library. "I suppose it is," he replied. "You're welcome to spend as much time as you like here."
"I may just move in," Hermione said, only half-joking. "Do you have books about magic?"
"Yes, we do," he told her. "They're mostly in this section." He led her over to an area in a corner. Hermione took in the titles, eager to get started.
"Thank you," she said. "I want to get started as soon as possible to figure out how I can do magic in this world." Hermione thought of something. "How did the enchantress transform you? Do you remember what kind of spell she cast? Did she have a wand?"
The Beast paused a moment, seeming to think. "I remember her dictating the terms of the spell, but I don't remember her saying words of the spell. Unless that was part of the spell. She did have a wand."
That helped Hermione. The problem was, Hermione had no idea how to make a wand. She knew that Ollivander used magical components that formed the core of the wand along with wood. She imagined it was the same in other countries. She remembered Harry talking about the weighing of the wands at the Triwizard Tournament and how Fleur's wand had veela hair. Hermione wondered if there was a wandmaker in France she could visit. Or even if she could somehow get to Diagon Alley and see the Ollivander of this time.
"If only I had a wand," she sighed.
"I've tried for years to find the enchantress, but haven't been able to," the Beast said. "Aside from her, I have no idea who else might have a wand."
Hermione smiled at him, relieved to find the Beast cooperating and finally able to get started on this mystery. "We'll figure something out," she said. "Have you looked into any of these books at all?
The Beast looked at the shelves. "I mostly focused on the ones about enchantments. They aren't encouraging. There's rarely a way to break an enchantment if you're not the original caster."
"Well. let's see if we can find a way," Hermione said, smiling at him. "Together, we should be able to figure it out. Two heads are better than one."
"Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat," said a voice from behind them. Hermione and the Beast turned to see a grey bust of a statue hopping towards her which continued to say in his journey, "and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling." He stopped in front of them. "William Shakespeare."
"Fred," the Beast said. "Begone with you. We don't need senseless quotes right now."
"With good will doing service, as to the Lord, and not to men," Fred said, turning. "Ephesians 6:7." Fred called over his shoulder as he hopped away.
"Master! Might I be of service?" a book on a pedestal that Hermione hadn't seen when they arrived in this section asked.
"Oxford. No, I don't think so—" the Beast replied. "Well, actually, maybe you can help." The Beast turned towards Hermione. "What is it you're looking for exactly?"
"I'm not really sure," admitted Hermione. "The first thing I want to learn about is how magic works in this time period and location. It's possible there are different customs."
"Ah! Magic!" Oxford replied. "A popular topic as of late. I'm afraid I have not been able to help the master crack this particular code. But books about magic, we do have."
He flew to the shelves and books began to pile on the nearby table. "I suggest you start with these," he said. "Oh! And this one! And this one!"
Hermione looked at the stack of books on the table, feeling a thrill of excitement. She had books to read! A renewed sense of purpose flowed through her.
Although she didn't know exactly where to start, she felt like she had a purpose again.
"Could you tell me which books you've already looked at?" Hermione asked. "And what you were looking for when you read them?"
The Beast showed her a few titles about spells and enchantments. "I mostly focused on the mechanics of them and tried to figure out how to break them." He sighed. "But I know nothing about magic and didn't know what to look for. Maybe you'll have better luck."
"Did you have any familiarity with magic at all before having the curse placed on you?" Hermione asked.
"No," the Beast said. "I didn't think it really existed until I got cursed. My mother told me fairy tales growing up, but that's all I thought they were."
He looked across the room. Hermione followed his gaze and they watched Oxford hopping across the library to a globe and start a conversation with it. Another library servant, she supposed.
"So you haven't heard of any magical communities here?" Hermione prompted.
"No, not at all," he said. "Though…now that I'm thinking about it…my father did rant about witches. But I always dismissed it as superstitious nonsense. The witch hunts over the centuries only targeted people trying to help and heal."
"Indeed," Hermione said. "They rarely caught any true magical folks. And, when they did, it was simple for them to cast a freezing spell on the fires." She laughed, recalling a lesson from History of Magic. "There was one witch called Wendelin the Weird who loved getting burned at the stake so much that she allowed herself to be caught forty-seven times over the years."
"My father was a vindictive and cruel man," the Beast said. "I doubt he was truly interested in or knew about witches. He always sought more power."
"I heard that this is a rich territory that your family has," Hermione said.
"It is," the Beast confirmed. "But it doesn't have much in terms of culture, which always chafed at my father and, later on, me. When I became a teenager, I thought this area was so backward and boring. I traveled whenever I could, which wasn't often because once I was old enough my father left me in charge so he could travel and escape. He never trusted anyone to rule in his place, except for me. And then he died not long after leaving me in charge."
"How did he die?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, he died in a place of ill repute, if you know what I mean," the Beast said. "He'd overdosed on whatever they were serving there."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione said, not sure what to say.
"Don't be," the Beast said shortly. "I'm not."
An uncomfortable silence fell. Hermione felt like she'd learned a lot about the Beast and his history. It explained why he would have hosted parties regularly at this castle. He had to bring the so-called culture and excitement to him, since he couldn't travel far. She wondered how old he was, but didn't feel like she could ask him just yet. She sensed he didn't want to talk more about his past.
"Why don't we start looking in these books?" Hermione asked, turning the conversation back to the original topic.
"Sounds good," replied the Beast.
They turned to their stack of books and began to read.