Chapter 31: Hermione
Glimpse of Truth
"A sudden light burst in on me; these hints alone gave me the first glimpse of truth; I had discovered the key to the cipher." — Jules Verne, Journey to the Center of the Earth
Later that Day—
Hermione was floating between consciousness and a haze of pain, the sounds around her muffled and distant. She could hear voices, frantic and sharp, but she couldn't make out the words.
She tried to open her eyes, to move, but every inch of her body screamed in protest.
Cold and authoritative, a woman's voice cut through the noise, "Stun her."
Then, everything went black again.
When she next awoke, the darkness still pressed against her eyelids, but there was a gentleness—a hand, perhaps, stroking her arm. The sensation was comforting, but it faded as quickly as it came.
The sound of a door opening was followed by an unfamiliar voice, steady and calm, mentioning something about antidotes. Hermione felt herself drifting back into the depths, unable to fight the pull of sleep.
The third time she awoke, voices were arguing around her. Deep and urgent, they echoed in her mind, overlapping until the words blurred.
"What's he doing here?" one voice demanded, rough with anger.
"He's helping," another shot back, more controlled.
A third voice, softer but confident, said, "This is the strongest antidote I know of. I'm just dropping more of it off. Ask Healer Wells—she knows. Goodbye." The tone of that last voice lingered in her mind, familiar and oddly comforting, but the arguing made her head pound, so she let herself slip away again.
When Hermione finally managed to open her eyes, the world was dimly lit and fuzzy around the edges. She blinked a few times, trying to focus.
The room around her was familiar but different—a hospital room, she realized, with an enchanted window on the far wall that was broken. The same bird flew past every twenty seconds, caught in an endless loop. As her gaze shifted, she noticed Harry dozing in an armchair beside her bed, his feet propped up on the mattress. Relief washed over her as she took in the sight of him.
She tested her limbs, cautiously moving her arms and legs. The lack of severe injury was a relief, but her skin stung painfully, especially where it rubbed against the white sheets. Her movements must have disturbed Harry because he jolted awake, his eyes immediately locking onto hers.
"Hermione," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
"H—" she tried, but her voice didn't quite work.
Harry reached for a glass of water on the bedside table, offering it to her.
She nodded, desperate for relief from the dryness in her throat. The cool water soothed her, bringing her further out of the fog. As she handed the glass back, fragments of memory started to piece together in her mind, but there were significant gaps. It was mostly a jumble of images.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice still husky.
Harry's expression darkened slightly as he explained the situation. "The Westbrook Apothecary exploded," he began, his words heavy. "You were helping get people out from inside, but there was a second explosion. The rune stones from our case caused the blasts."
Hermione nodded slowly; her last clear memory was being at the White Wyvern for her stakeout.
Harry continued, "You were drenched in dozens of dangerous potion ingredients, including some undiluted venoms. You're lucky to be alive, Hermione. It … you were … it scared me." His voice cracked slightly, and Hermione could feel the depth of his worry.
She whispered a soft apology, feeling the weight of what had happened but mostly confusion.
"The rune stones … they've never reacted this powerfully before," Hermione commented. The ones the DMLE had recovered only mildly stunned people. They weren't bombs.
Harry nodded. "Robards has brought in more staff plus all the Unspeakables. They've been pouring over the stones from the apothecary, but there's no evidence besides the stones themselves. Mr. Westbrook, the owner, is fine, but he doesn't remember anyone suspicious or any customer dropping anything."
"Was he hurt? Was anyone else injured? Dead?" Hermione asked.
Harry shook his head. "There were a dozen or so injuries, but no one died. You were hurt the worst because you were at the center of the second blast."
Hermione frowned, trying to piece together how she had ended up in Diagon Alley to help. "Why was I there? The last thing I remember is being at the White Wyvern in Knockturn."
Harry replied, "I don't know. You were the first one who called for backup moments after the first explosion."
"Me?" And Harry nodded.
Frustration bubbled up in her. She must have seen something or followed someone from the White Wyvern, but the details were just out of reach. Harry noticed her distress and tried to reassure her. "Don't worry about it right now. We figured something must have led you there. I have Jones and Rothschild staking out the Wyvern now that you're here."
"How long has it been?" she asked, trying to piece together the timeline in her head.
"Four days," Harry replied, watching her carefully.
Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "Four days! But—" She trailed off, trying to process the information.
Harry quickly added, "It's Tuesday the 31st."
Hermione's heart sank. "It's your birthday," she realized, guilt washing over her. "Harry, I'm so sorry—look at you, here with me on your birthday in hospital."
Harry shrugged, a weak smile playing on his lips. "Shut up. As if I care about that …"
"Well," Hermione tried a smile, "we'll celebrate later. Happy birthday."
"Thanks, Hermione. … You frightened me, you know. I found you in the apothecary and—well, I had a bit of a fit." Harry winced. "I've been apologizing to the healers ever since it was clear you'd be okay."
"Thanks for saving me." Hermione smiled.
"Oh, shut it," Here said firmly. "The Poisonings Department saved you. But please, no more hospital stays for at least a year … or five. Please."
Hermione managed a laugh, though her throat was still dry and scratchy. "I guess we can call it a draw—I spent an entire month worried that it was my fault you might be a werewolf."
"A draw it is, then," Harry agreed, a touch of humor in his voice.
Hermione could no longer ignore the stinging sensation across her skin and mentioned it to Harry, who immediately jumped up and called out the open doorway.
A moment later, Padma Patil walked in, dressed in the lime green robes of a Healer.
"Padma," Hermione greeted her with a weak smile. She hadn't seen Padma since Ginny's celebration at the Leaky Cauldron last month.
"Good to see you awake, Hermione," Padma said warmly before getting straight to business. "It's time for your antivenin."
Hermione looked confused, and Padma explained, like Harry, that she had been drenched in a ridiculous mixture of venoms and other ingredients. "You've been taking a special antivenin every four hours. The venoms should be entirely out of your system in another day or so."
Padma walked over to a table in the corner and brought back a half-empty vial of lime green liquid. "Four drops on the tongue," she instructed, and Hermione obediently opened her mouth. The taste was sharp and acrid, making her wince slightly. "What's in this?" Hermione asked, examining the vial. The liquid was green with metallic purple flecks, and she noticed an "M" inscribed on the glass.
"A … specialty potion provider crafted it," Padma said, her tone brisk as an alarm rang from her pocket. "I must go, but I'll be back for the next dose." She left the room, leaving Hermione and Harry alone again.
Harry stared at the vial, his expression pensive. Hermione's mind raced, connecting dots scattered throughout her thoughts.
The jars of Wolfsbane potion at the Avery Estate had the same inscription. … Running into Draco Malfoy at the apothecary. … Running into Draco Malfoy in Diagon, leaving the apothecary again. … Draco Malfoy's interest in rare potion ingredients. … Harry's mysterious aconite supplier. Pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.
Hermione turned to Harry, her eyes narrowing. "Is Jacques Eclair the Third … Draco Malfoy?"
Harry looked confused momentarily, then shocked as he realized what she had figured out. He opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione cut him off, her voice firm. "Harry James Potter, do not lie to me."
Harry sighed, sinking back into his chair. "Yes," he admitted.
Hermione nodded slowly as so many things began to make sense.
Harry took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before he began. "Malfoy runs a potion company—well, more of a charity, really, because he doesn't charge anything for it. He donates a huge number of potions to St. Mungo's. I found out by accident years ago when I was still a junior Auror."
Hermione blinked, her mind struggling to reconcile this new information with everything she knew about Malfoy. "Why does no one know about this?" she asked. How could she not know about this?
Harry shrugged slightly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I don't know. Malfoy asked me specifically never to say anything. When we needed an aconite supplier months ago, I thought of him right away. He … seemed like the sort of person who would have access to vast quantities of rare, dangerous potion ingredients—and I was right."
Hermione stared at the vial in her hand, the metallic purple flecks catching the light in a way that made her stomach twist. "So Malfoy—Draco Malfoy—runs a potions charity, supplies aconite, and Wolfsbane every month at your request, and has now saved my life with this one-of-a-kind antivenin?"
Harry hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes, that's about right."
The absurdity of it all hung between them briefly, and they laughed. The sound was both a release and a shared acknowledgment of the utterly bizarre situation. Hermione's laughter quickly turned into a coughing fit, and Harry was at her side instantly, helping her drink more water. The cool liquid soothed her throat, but her mind was still spinning.
When she finally caught her breath, she shook her head, her voice still hoarse. "This is too much to process."
Harry chuckled, his expression softening with understanding. "You should have seen Ron when Malfoy walked in here with another antidote for you."
Hermione filed away the fact that Malfoy had been here multiple times to provide potions for her care, feeling a strange mix of emotions. Gratitude, confusion, and curiosity mingled in her chest. "I bet he flipped his lid."
Harry grinned, nodding. "Just about. I told him everything, just like I'm telling you now, and then he calmed down. But he's still really huffy about 'all the bloody Slytherins around,'" he added, imitating Ron's voice with a smirk.
Hermione raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to the story. "All the Slytherins?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
Harry's smile widened. "Yeah, first Theo Nott at the dueling club, and now Malfoy. I think he expects Goyle or Pansy Parkinson, maybe even the ghost of Salazar Slytherin himself, to appear out of thin air when he least expects it."
Hermione sympathized with Ron a bit. How many more times would she find Malfoy and Nott crossing her path?
Just as that thought settled in, another memory snapped into focus. Hermione gasped, her heart lurching with sudden realization. "Harry! I missed the full moon!" The words came out in a rush, filled with panic.
Harry's expression softened again, this time with a reassuring smile. "There were no attacks, Hermione. Everything was fine."
Hermione felt a wave of disappointment wash over her. "I was supposed to guard the Avery Estate."
Harry shook his head gently, his eyes filled with understanding. "You can't do that when you're unconscious. Maybe next time … although we'll be in France, I think."
Hermione nodded, overwhelmed by her lack of memory, her injury, the information she had learned, the mystery of the werewolf attacks, the rune stones, and now the rune bombs.
Harry remarked, feigning nonchalance, "I hope you miss the mailroom."
Hermione whined, "Harry!"
"We'll discuss it."
Later that evening—
It was late. The enchanted window in Hermione's room was still broken, and every few minutes, the same bird fluttered past, a fleeting blur in the dim light. Hermione was supposed to be resting, but the knowledge that she had been asleep for four days filled her with a restless energy that she couldn't shake.
Harry had brought her some books just in case she woke up, and now Hermione was halfway through Zhaou and Fa's Applications of Arithmetic Principles to Complex Transfigurative Stratagems. The dense text would typically have her riveted, but tonight, she repeatedly paused on the same page, her mind wandering back to an unexpected memory.
Malfoy had been reading this book when she'd run into him at Nott Manor months ago.
She remembered how his brow furrowed in concentration as he'd studied the text, his long fingers idly tracing the book's spine. It struck her as odd at the time—Malfoy, the boy who had once taunted her for her intellect, engrossed in such an advanced and nuanced study of transfiguration. Although Malfoy had never been a dunce, she supposed.
As she stared at the familiar diagrams and equations, Hermione wondered what Malfoy thought of the book. She had told him to let her know but wasn't ever expecting him to owl her. That would be ridiculous.
Did he enjoy the challenge of its complex theories, or was it merely a tool for some larger project he was working on? The thought that Malfoy might be engaging in such advanced studies and that he might even enjoy them added another layer to the enigma that he had become.
And then there was the matter of his charity work. The idea of Malfoy—proud and once so full of hatred—running a potion company that donated vast quantities of rare and expensive potions to St. Mungo's without asking for anything seemed almost impossible to believe. Yet, it was true. Harry had confirmed it, and Harry would not lie to her about this.
But still … she could look up some records in the Ministry archives just to be sure.
A soft noise pulled her from her thoughts, and Hermione looked up, closing the book carefully. Voices were coming from the ward outside her room, growing louder as they approached. A moment later, the door creaked open, and Harry, Ron, Lavender, Parvati, and Padma slipped inside, their faces lit with excitement.
Parvati was carrying a small cake with white icing, a single candle flickering at its center. The sight of it filled Hermione with a rush of surprise and delight. "What's this?" she asked, sitting up a bit straighter in her bed, her heart warming at the sight of her friends.
Harry grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I can't celebrate my birthday without you, can I?"
Parvati winked at her, her smile wide and playful. "I made Padma sneak us inside," she said, her voice just loud enough for Hermione to hear.
Dressed in lime green Healer robes, Padma rolled her eyes fondly at her sister. "We all had better be quiet, though, because it's well after visiting hours," she warned, though there was no real sternness in her tone.
Ron stepped forward, his arm around Lavender, and smiled at Hermione. "We couldn't let the day go by without celebrating, even if it is a bit late. It's … really good to see you awake, 'Mione."
"Thanks, Ron." Hermione smiled.
The group gathered around Hermione's bed, and they all began to sing a soft, hushed version of "Happy Birthday" to Harry. Harry leaned forward as they finished the song and blew out the candle, his breath sending it into darkness.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
The Daily Prophet
ENGLAND DOMINATES IN EUROPEAN QUIDDITCH CHAMPIONSHIP PRELIMINARIES!
Timothy Quirk
Quidditch Correspondent
The English National Quidditch Team soared to victory yesterday in a thrilling match against Denmark, securing their place in the next round of the European Quidditch Championship. The final score, 250-90, left no doubt that England is a force to be reckoned with this tournament season.
Rookie Chaser Ginny Weasley played a pivotal role in the triumph, scoring six spectacular goals and keeping Denmark's Keeper swerving the entire match. With her exceptional speed and precision, Weasley continues to prove herself as one of England's top assets.
The game took a dramatic turn when England's Seeker, Imogen Fraser, caught the Snitch after a daring dive that had fans on the edge of their seats. Denmark fought valiantly but was ultimately no match for England's unstoppable offense.
"We've got a great team this year," veteran English coach Fitzwilliam Jones said post-match. "We're focused on bringing home the Cup." With performances like these, England's chances look brighter than ever.
England will face Norway next week as the tournament heats up. Stay tuned, as the road to the finals is just beginning!
Friday, August 3, 2007
Diagon Alley
Harry did not make her return to the mailroom.
But he also kept her from resuming her solo stakeouts in Knockturn Alley. Harry and Robards had banned solo assignments; no auror was to leave Ministry premises alone for any reason except to go home at the end of their shifts. It was a source of incredible frustration to Hermione—and everyone—that she may have spotted the so-called "rune-bomber" but had been alone and had lost her memory of the time before the explosion.
It also put her rosters in shambles.
Three days later, Hermione stood outside Flourish and Blott's, her Auror robes pulled tight and her hood up, keeping a watchful eye on the sparsely populated bookstore.' Galway was stationed inside, and every so often, Hermione peeked into the windows and could spot him nodding off into sleep.
The event they were assigned to—crow control for a book signing—was far less demanding than anyone had anticipated. The author, a white-haired wizard promoting his latest book on the various types of frogspawn and their uses in home cooking, had overestimated the public's interest. Only three people had shown up so far.
Hermione sighed quietly to herself. She knew she should be grateful to be back on her feet after the explosion, but she couldn't help but feel bitter that the DMLE had taken her off the stakeouts at the White Wyvern. Instead, she was stationed at a dull book signing—and she loved books!—doing little more than standing guard in case some unexpected chaos erupted, which seemed about as likely as the second resurrection of Voldemort.
She was still weak, her strength not quite what it had been before. But the fact that her assignment had been handed over to other Aurors, who had joined an illegal card game at the Wyvern to gather intel, only stung more.
Hermione lifted her hood slightly and absentmindedly fingered the ends of her new haircut, curls brushing her shoulders. They'd had to cut her hair shorter after the explosion—some of the locks had melted in the blast. But the new style was growing on her; it lifted her curls and made her feel lighter, more agile.
As she mused over her current situation, she noticed a young blonde witch shyly approaching her, a hesitant smile on her face. "Excuse me," the witch said, her voice soft and uncertain. "Do you remember me?"
Hermione blinked, her mind racing as she took in the girl's features. And then it clicked. "Imogene?" she asked, recognition sparking in her eyes.
Imogene's face lit up, her smile widening. "Yes! I'm so happy you remember."
Hermione smiled back, genuinely pleased to see the girl again. Imogene was one of the three students she and Harry had rescued from werewolves at Hogwarts in May, the night Harry had been injured.
"How are you doing?" Hermione asked warmly. "And what brings you here? Are you interested in the uses of frogspawn in home cooking?"
Imogene glanced in the bookstore window with a slightly bewildered expression before shaking her head. "Not really," she admitted. "I just came to browse. I've had an interview at Gringotts for Curse Breaker training."
Hermione's eyes widened with genuine excitement. "That's wonderful! Does that mean you graduated, and your NEWTs went well?"
Imogene nodded eagerly, her face glowing with pride. "Yes, I got Os in Runes, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, an E in Charms, and an A in Potions."
"Those are excellent results," Hermione said, her voice full of admiration. "Perfect for a Curse Breaker."
"I hope so," Imogene replied.
Hermione tilted her head slightly, her curiosity piqued. "And how are your friends doing? Phoebe and Willy, right?"
Imogene's eyes widened in surprise, clearly touched that Hermione remembered their names. "Yes, that's right! Phoebe is working at a restaurant while she applies for an Arithmancy apprenticeship, and Willy—he's chuffed—got a job brewing potions for a thing called the Charitable Potions Trust. Professor Longbottom helped him get the job! He was nervous at first, but it turns out that Malfoy Manor isn't frightening at all, like the rumors—"
"He's working for Draco Malfoy?" Hermione cut in, her voice sharper than she intended.
Imogene nodded enthusiastically.
"Inside Malfoy Manor?"
"Yes! And Mr. Malfoy is nice, not at all like what some of the papers say, according to Willy, that is."
Hermione shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around the idea of Malfoy employing a recent Hogwarts graduate, much less being described as "nice." She filed the information away, her thoughts swirling with the implications. The more she learned about Malfoy and his mysterious charitable work, the more she realized how little she knew him.
Hermione decided then and there that she owed Malfoy a letter of thanks, at the very least. Did she owe him a life debt for the antivenin? It frightened her to consider the implications, especially remembering Harry's experience with Peter Pettigrew. Perhaps just a regular old "thank you" would suffice.
"I'm happy to hear that you're all doing well," Hermione said to Imogene, offering the girl a warm smile. "You held off werewolves on a full moon. I think you're going to be an excellent Curse Breaker."
Imogene beamed at the praise, her earlier nervousness fading away. "Thank you, Miss, er, Madam—Auror Granger," she said, her voice full of sincerity. "It means a lot coming from you."
"Hermione is just fine," she replied.
Imogene nodded happily. "I'm not sure I'm cut out for … combat. That's why I think curse-breaking is a better option for me than being an Auror. It was a bit overwhelming that night."
Hermione nodded sympathetically. "It's not for everyone. But you may encounter more than you think, depending on where curse breaking takes you, later in your career."
The girl bit her lip as if struggling to decide to ask something. She said, "I was wondering—from that night, why did your stunning and slicing hexes not affect the werewolf, but the knockback jinx and Auror Potter's shield charm did?"
"Oh." Hermione was stunned for a moment. Pleased that the girl seemed to have an academic interest, she went on, "Well, werewolf coats—"
"Are resistant to magic," the girl supplied eagerly.
"—are resistant to magic, yes," Hermione finished with a small smile. "So that is why my spells rebounded off the black werewolf I was facing. I was aiming for some vulnerable spots—"
"Like the eyes, nose, and undercarriage?"
Hermione blinked and smiled knowingly because she knew a well-researched student when she saw one. "Yes, exactly. But,"—Imogene looked as though she were about to interject again, so Hermione continued forcefully—"you need to know that even if I had hit a vulnerable spot, the spells would have had little to no effect in actually stopping the werewolf. You see, fully transformed werewolves are resistant to most magics. The slicing hex would likely have cut, but even a spell with enough force to, for example, completely sever a human hand would have probably only inflicted a flesh-level wound."
The girl's eyes widened. Hermione presumed she was reevaluating the level of fear she recalled from that evening. Hermione continued to underscore her point.
"And the stunner would not have made the werewolf unconscious. It would only have dazed it for a moment. So," Hermione crossed her arms and nodded toward the girl, "what do you think my strategy was for trying those spells?"
"Probably to slow the wolf down," she replied thoughtfully, "or even to prevent the wolf from getting close."
Hermione was pleased. "Yes, exactly. If I had allowed the wolf to get close enough to scratch or bite me, I would have been severely injured or, more likely, dead." Hermione paused to let that sink in. Imogene nodded, and Hermione went on. "Werewolves transformed at the full moon do not have wands or magic, so they cannot block or deflect spells like a witch. What they do have is vastly superior strength. Their methods of defense are their coats and physical dodging. Even something as simple as a stinging hex can distract a wolf—and many magical beings, really—long enough for you to find an advantage or get away."
The girl nodded emphatically and pulled a notepad and Muggle pen from the satchel across her back.
And then Hermione was on a roll. "So, as to your question regarding why the knockback jinx and shields worked, that has to do with the nature of those spells. The knockback jinx manipulates the air and space around something, pushing it up and away from the spell-caster." Hermione looked around and spotted two crumpled pieces of parchment, and she walked over to them, motioning for Imogene to follow.
"Observe." Hermione lifted her wand and cast the jinx in the gentlest way possible. "Flipendo." The parchments thrust backward and rolled away from them by a few feet. "Because parchments are small, the single spell affected both—it touched everything in the spell's path."
Imogene hummed in acknowledgment. "Protego is similar in that it is a physical barrier. It affects space, not objects or people."
"Yes, exactly." Hermione was delighted both at Imogene's curiosity and the ear-splitting grin on the girl's face after Hermione complimented her observation.
"That shield charm that Mr. Potter did was not Protego, though. It was different, right?"
Thinking back to that night, Hermione tried to recall the exact spell Harry had used. "Yes, he used a modified shield charm. It was probably a variation of Protego Diabolica. It's thicker, and Harry is a very powerful spellcaster. If you practice with a certain flourish of the wand, the shield emanates outward."
"Wow." Imogene's blue eyes widened, and she rushed to write down the spell's name on her pad. "And I assume the stunners and other spells were different?"
Hermione nodded. "A Stunning Charm operates on the body level. It affects its power upon a living being by effectively canceling out conscious thought, thus rendering the victim unconscious until the charm wears off or is canceled."
"With the Renervate charm!" Imogene supplied cheerily in between her furious scribbles.
"Yes, excellent."
"So that means," the girl continued, half lost in thought. "That the spell requires a consciousness to append itself to. When you practice a stunner on an inanimate object, it only pushes it back a bit or causes minor physical damage."
"Right!" Hermione replied happily. "The same is true for spells like the Confundus Charm. You can't confound a rock or a shoe. Now, spells like a Slicing or Burning Hex are a bit different. They target the physical, so you could cast a slicing hex on a tree or a piece of fabric, and it would slice through. A Burning Hex would burn those things just like human flesh. Because werewolves are resistant to standard levels of magic on a molecular level, it would require a large amount of power for any of these spells to be effective, including a Stunner. It would take maybe the force of five wizards or more for a Stunner to take out a wolf or a Slicing Hex to do substantial harm."
"Five?" Imogene asked, gobsmacked.
"Or more, depending on the strength of the wolf."
"Is that true for a werewolf outside the full moon? Like, when they are just…human?"
"To a lesser extent." Hermione thought of Fenrir Greenback. No one could land a strong enough spell to take him out during the Battle of Hogwarts. She thought of Lavender and the scars on her face. She thought of Fleur dabbing green ointment on Bill's wounds in the Hospital Wing. "Because lycanthropy affects the entire body in relation to lunar cycles, it's true that werewolves, even during the daylight, are more resistant to spells that have been developed for witches or Muggles."
Imogene nodded, writing down something else on her notepad. "What about during the day when the lunar cycle is at the New Moon stage?"
"In theory, that is when a werewolf is at their weakest."
Imogene scribbled furiously, her pen scratching away at the notepad. "So, the closer to the full moon, the more resistant they are to magic, and the further away, the less so?"
Hermione nodded. "Exactly. The full moon is when they're at their strongest, both physically and magically resistant. But that doesn't mean they're invulnerable. It just requires more concentrated power or clever strategies to subdue them."
She hesitated, then looked at Imogene with a thoughtful expression. "You know, it's easy to think of werewolves as nothing but a danger—especially after what you and your friends went through. But it's important to remember that they're people too, even when they're transformed."
"I know," Imogene replied. "I completely agree. Some of the government policies are so old-fashioned. It was terrifying—the full moon that night. But—most werewolves don't choose to attack others. They're cursed, living with a condition that transforms them into something uncontrollable once a month. And outside of those nights, they're just like anyone else. And they're often shunned, discriminated against, and forced into poverty … I think the attacks wouldn't have happened if the government was more understanding of lycanthropy in the first place."
Hermione was stunned into silence, only able to reply, "Exactly."
"And," Imogene continued, "Everyone is approaching the disease from ignorance. Did you know there are only ten volumes in the Hogwarts library that even mention the details of lycanthropy? It seems silly."
Hermione liked her. "Don't get me started on the deficiencies of the Hogwarts library."
"Willy told me that the Malfoy library is incredible, but he's afraid to ask Mr. Malfoy if he can use it."
Hermione almost laughed as she replied, "I'm sure Mr. Malfoy is very generous with his personal space. Tell Willy not to be afraid to ask for what he wants."
Imogene glanced back at the bookstore, then returned her gaze to Hermione. "I should probably head out. Don't want to keep you from your duties."
Hermione chuckled. "Trust me, you've been the most interesting part of my day. But yes, you should probably get going. And don't hesitate to reach out if you ever need anything. I'm always here to help."
"Thank you … Hermione. Really." Imogene gave her one last smile before turning and heading down the alley, her satchel bouncing lightly against her side.
The Next Day—
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Knockturn Alley
The narrow streets of Knockturn Alley were bustling despite the late hour, busier than Hermione had ever seen them. She supposed that even Knockturn would be crowded on a Saturday night with no curfew. Even so, the flickering light from gas lamps did little to illuminate the damp cobblestones, leaving much of the area in eerie gloom.
Hermione, Harry, and Ron walked through the streets, their wands held close beneath their cloaks, hoods pulled up to avoid unwanted attention.
"Are you sure this is the right way?" Hermione asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she sidestepped a particularly grimy puddle.
"Positive," Ron replied, leading them through a labyrinthine path with an ease that spoke of familiarity. He kept his pace brisk, clearly wanting to reach their destination quickly. "It's just up ahead."
She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I didn't think it would be in Knockturn Alley, of all places."
Ron shrugged, not breaking his stride. "Ernie got a good deal on the real estate."
"I'm sure he did," Hermione muttered, her eyes narrowing as she caught sight of a dead rat lying in the gutter, its fur matted and wet from the recent rain.
They turned a corner, and Ron stopped before a tall, foreboding wrought-iron gate between two weathered brick buildings. The gate was dark beyond, giving no indication of what lay on the other side.
"This is it," Ron said, reaching into his cloak and pulling out his metallic membership card. He held it over the lock, and with a faint click, the gate swung open with surprising ease.
As they stepped through, Hermione braced herself for more of the same dark and dreary surroundings, but instead, she was met with a sight that took her breath away. The darkness melted, revealing a charming courtyard bathed in a soft, golden light. A marble fountain stood at its center, with a bronze sculpture of two crossed wands at its peak, spouting water that flowed down the tiers in graceful arcs. Warm-hued fairy lights floated gently in the air. The contrast to the grim atmosphere outside the metal gate was stark and unexpected.
"This is … beautiful," Hermione said, her voice full of genuine surprise as she took in everything.
"Yeah, it's a bit different from the rest of Knockturn, right?" Ron said with a grin, clearly pleased with her reaction. "Come on, there's more inside."
They ascended the ten steps leading to a sandstone-colored building with an obsidian double door, the only entrance visible. The doors opened easily as Ron pushed them, and they stepped into a spacious two-story vestibule. The room was dimly lit by a small crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and a dark wooden desk sat opposite the entrance, though it was unmanned.
A sign on the desk read "Help Wanted" in bold lettering.
"They're still trying to work out the staffing," Ron explained, noticing Hermione's raised eyebrow. "George felt having a bartender was more important than a receptionist."
Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn't help sharing a small smile with Harry. "Of course he did," Harry commented.
Ron led them around the desk and toward a pair of spiral staircases that descended to a lower level. As they followed him down, the space opened into a cavernous arena that took Hermione's breath away once more. The ceilings were high, and the vast area stretched before them, illuminated by floating lanterns. On one side, a cloakroom and a bar with stools and tables offered relaxing spaces, while rows of enormous, dark metallic boxes lined the other, each large enough to be a professional dueling arena.
"This is incredible!" Hermione said, her voice awed as she looked around. The sheer scale of the place was overwhelming, and she could see why Ron had been so excited to bring them here. About a dozen people were scattered throughout the space, some seated at the bar, others talking near the dueling areas.
"I didn't expect anything like this," Harry added, equally taken aback as he surveyed the space.
"Neither did I," Hermione admitted. She glanced at Harry, her expression softening as she remembered the purpose of their outing. "This is supposed to make up for your birthday, so what would you like to do first?"
Harry smiled, clearly pleased by the gesture. "How about we check out one of those dueling spaces? I'd like to see how they hold up against you."
Ron was already heading toward the nearest metallic box. "You won't believe what Nott's done with these. They're something else."
And then—Theo appeared from around the corner of the dueling box, a wry smile on his face. "Never thought I'd live to see the day when I received a compliment from Ronald Weasley."
Ron crossed his arms. "I take it back."
Theo chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, no, no, no. That one's going in the Pensieve for posterity."
With a playful glint in his eyes, Theo turned to Harry. "Potter," he greeted, and then to Hermione, "Hermione."
"Theo," she responded, her tone light and familiar. Theo took her hand, his gaze holding hers as he pressed a light kiss to the top of her knuckles, looking up at her through his dark lashes.
"I heard about your recent accident," he said smoothly, his voice carrying genuine concern. "I'm glad you're doing well and in one piece." His eyes flicked to her hair. "And might I add, your new haircut is most becoming."
Hermione felt a blush creeping up her cheeks and whispered, "Thank you."
Ron, standing just behind her, was noticeably red in the face. Harry, ever the observer, glanced between Theo and Hermione before asking, "Are you two … friends?"
Theo didn't miss a beat, his smile growing a touch broader. "I'd like to think so." He looked to Hermione for confirmation, but she quickly shrugged off the question.
"So," she interjected, eager to change the subject, "how exactly do these dueling boxes work?"
Theo was more than happy to oblige, gesturing to the panels around them. "The panels absorb most spells rather than letting them ricochet. It keeps things contained." He pointed to the small glass panel in the doorway of the box. "That's the only place people can look in."
Hermione reached out, rubbing her fingers over some of the runes etched into the metallic surface. Harry leaned in close, his voice low as he eyed Theo suspiciously. "These look familiar, Hermione."
She nodded thoughtfully, her brow furrowed. "Marcommanic runes," she identified, recognizing the ancient script. "But this is nothing like the rune stones we've seen before. The material and method of application is completely different." She looked at Theo, curiosity shining in her eyes. "Are these bronze inlays into a basalt panel?"
Theo's face lit up with excitement. "Hermione, you're just as smart and delightful as ever. That is exactly right."
She smiled at the praise but quickly became self-conscious about how Ron and Harry stared at her. "What?" she asked, her tone defensive.
Harry shook his head, a fond smile playing on his lips. "Want to try it out?"
Hermione nodded, and Theo opened the door to the box for them. She removed her cloak, handing it to Ron's outstretched hands, revealing the Muggle athletic gear she had underneath—spandex leggings and a t-shirt that clung to her form.
Ron and Theo stared, momentarily stunned, and she rolled her eyes. "If we're going to duel properly, I can't be encumbered," she explained, leaving her wand holster on her left forearm where it covered her scar.
Harry, accustomed to Muggle attire, nodded and stepped into the box. "Let's go, Hermione. They can come to terms with your clothing while we fight."
Hermione chuckled, followed him inside, and closed the door behind her. Magical lights floated in the four corners of the ceiling, lighting the space.
"How do you want to do this?" Hermione asked, her tone eager, wand already in hand.
Harry grinned. "You were just in hospital, so I'll go easy on you."
Hermione saw Ron's eyes widen through the glass panel and heard him exclaim, "That was a bad move, mate!"
Hermione smirked. "Let's see what you've got, Potter."
The duel began with a burst of energy as Hermione made the first move, her wand flicking sharply as she cast a Stinging Hex that Harry easily deflected. The rush of magic surged through her veins, and she reveled in the thrill of it. Each spell she cast felt like an extension of herself, her magic flowing effortlessly. Harry was no slouch, though, and she found herself grinning as he countered her every move with his typical precision and speed.
"Still a fan of your Disarming Charms, I see," Hermione quipped as she deftly sidestepped a streak of red light aimed at her wand. Her voice was breathless with excitement. Harry had always been partial to Expelliarmus, even as an adult—it did defeat Voldemort, but she wasn't about to let him get the upper hand this time. With a swift flick of her wrist, she cast a Freezing Hex at Harry's elbow, the icy tendrils of magic snaking around his arm and causing him to stiffen momentarily.
The opening was all she needed. With a quick, determined motion, she unleashed a powerful Banishing Charm. The air crackled with energy as the force of the spell hurtled towards Harry. He ducked just in time, his reflexes sharp, but the spell collided with the back wall with a thunderous crash. The impact was so powerful that the glass panel in the back wall shattered, and then, with a groan, the entire paneled wall teetered precariously at the corners, and Hermione's eyes widened in alarm.
"Oh no!" Hermione gasped, her eyes wide with horror. She rushed over to inspect the damage.
Theo was already there, looking at his beloved box with a mix of sadness and amusement. He opened the door, letting Hermione and Harry step out. "Perhaps the two most powerful wizards of their generation should stick to the public dueling spaces," he suggested wryly, "or the private rooms upstairs."
Hermione winced, feeling a pang of guilt. "I'm so sorry, Theo. I didn't mean to—"
Theo held up a hand, cutting her off with a smile. "No harm done, Hermione. This is a work in progress, after all." He glanced at Harry, his expression turning playful. "But maybe save the big spells for a more spacious venue next time."
Harry chuckled. "We'll keep that in mind."
Theo conjured some red tape that wrapped around the dueling box and a sign that said "Broken" with a sad face next to the text. Hermione pouted. At the sight of her face, Theo said, "Cheer up, Hermione! Can I show you around the rest of the place?"
She nodded, and she, Harry, and Ron followed Theo around. First, he took them back toward the cloakroom, where Hermione hung her cloak. Then, he took them deeper into the cavernous space, showing them the other—still functional—dueling boxes, the three raised platforms for public duels or duels requiring more space, and, lastly, the broom games section of the DA.
Harry and Ron, spotting the broomsticks, couldn't contain their excitement. Hermione rolled her eyes, amused by their enthusiasm, and said, "Don't mind me—go for it."
The boys met each other's eyes and ran into the closest open flying section. They were in the air in less than thirty seconds.
Hermione glanced at Theo, surprised to find him watching her. "I'm not much of a flyer, as you know," she remarked, recalling that she had fallen off her broom in the forest near Theo's estate. That mishap had led to this unlikely … friendship—if they could call it that. Hermione was warming to the idea.
Theo smirked, turning his gaze toward the distance behind them. "I was worried about you, you know. I heard about the explosions and everything. But seeing you almost trounce the Chosen One in less than five minutes has eased all my worries. … Care to step into the arena and face me?"
Hermione looked at him skeptically, unsure if he was serious, then turned to survey the elevated dueling platforms. The facility was nearly empty, with only a small group of three or four other people Hermione did not recognize gathered to cheer Harry and Ron in their broom competition. She bit her lip, tempted to take advantage of the lull. After hesitating, she nodded, though still a bit reluctant.
Theo eagerly ushered her to the stage, not bothering to remove his cloak. As they took their positions on opposite ends of the long platform, Hermione couldn't help but notice how different they looked. With his elegant garb, Theo contrasted sharply with her more casual and practical attire.
Following traditional dueling protocol, Theo pointed his wand at the ceiling, waiting for Hermione to do the same. Once she did, he grinned, "Give me what you've got, Granger."
Hermione didn't hesitate. She shot a blasting hex at his feet, and Theo jumped back, surprised by its force. "Excellent," he said with a gleam in his eye, and the duel began in earnest.
Theo was a different sort of duelist than Harry. Where Harry's style was quick and agile, dodging as much as blocking, Theo was crafty. He used spells that distracted Hermione, forcing her to think quickly and stay in the moment, preventing her from planning more advanced attacks. He hit her in the shoulder with a laughing charm at one point, sending her into uncontrollable giggles.
As she tried to catch her breath between chuckles, Hermione managed to gasp, "You prat!"
She finally cast a finite to end the charm, only to find Theo watching her with a mischievous sparkle in his eye.
Deciding it was time to get serious, Hermione conjured a swarm of birds with a flick of her wand. When she was younger, she would have conjured yellow canaries, but this time, she called forth a dozen sharp-beaked magpies. Theo eyed them warily as she set them upon him with a swift "Oppugno!" The birds flew at him like arrows, and Theo struggled to fend them off, too slow with his attempted vanishing charm. They swarmed him, pecking at his carefully styled hair.
"Not the hair!" he cried out, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh, genuinely enjoying herself.
Theo eventually transformed the crows into black roses, which fell like offerings from an adoring crowd at his feet. His hair was left in disarray.
"We're conjuring now, are we?" Theo asked, amusement evident in his voice.
Hermione shrugged, trying to suppress a grin. Theo responded with a spell that brought forth several memories. "Serpensortia!"
A snake burst forth from the tip of his wand. Hermione's eyes widened in recognition—the same spell Malfoy had used against Harry in their second year, the day they all figured out he was a parslemouth.
But this snake differed from Malfoy's, its scales shimmering in iridescent shades of the rainbow.
"It's pretty," Hermione remarked, laughing at its absurdity.
As the snake slithered closer, Hermione quickly transfigured it into a whip, catching the handle from the air with her free hand. She cracked it down on the stage floor with a sharp snap, quirking an eyebrow at Theo, who looked shocked and delighted.
"You know, Hermione," Theo said, his voice teasing. "I've never been attracted to women, but you're tempting me greatly right now."
Hermione released a guffaw and vanished the whip, causing Theo to moan in mock protest. But before he could recover, she unleashed a barrage of hexes, and the duel intensified again.
The two were caught up in the back-and-forth, exchanging spells and counters until, finally, Hermione managed to hit Theo with a stunning spell. He collapsed to the ground.
Rushing over, Hermione quickly revived him. Theo blinked up at her as he regained consciousness. "Good game, Hermione," he said with a smile, accepting her hand as she helped him to his feet. He bent down to pick up one of his discarded roses. With a tap of his wand, the black petals transformed into yellow. He handed her the flower.
She sniffed the conjured flower, surprised to find it smelled real. That was a nice bit of magic, though she didn't say so. Yellow rose … friendship.
Before she could respond, Theo glanced over her shoulder and quipped, "What, Draco? No applause? I thought that was pretty spectacular."
Hermione turned around to see Draco Malfoy standing nearby, observing them with an unreadable expression.
Up Next: Draco experiences an awakening.