Chapter 7: Hermione

Living Fire

"A book, too, can be a star, a living fire to lighten the darkness, leading out into the expanding universe." — Madeleine L'Engle, A Wrinkle in Time

Monday, April 2, 2007
Ministry of Magic

"And I commend everyone involved for their work these last two months. I firmly believe that what my team has accomplished will revolutionize the regulation of the market for magical pets."

The entire Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures staff was gathered for the first time since February. Anderson was giving an incredibly self-involved speech about his leadership, as if he had intrepidly ventured into the den of a manticore and not just boxed up litters of baby kneazels from the cellars of several boarded-up buildings in Ireland.

Hermione stood to the side by the door of her office, arms crossed, working hard to maintain a neutral expression. Anderson looked over at her and smirked.

Hermione imagined slapping the coarse mustache off his face.

Thankfully, Octavia took the lull in speaking to jump in. She stepped forward and looked around at the twenty employees gathered around the span of cubicles. Although short and thin, Octavia always exuded an authority that Hermione envied.

"Yes, excellent work, Deputy Head Anderson and everyone who worked so hard in and out of the office to locate and close out the illegal menageries. It is wonderful to finally have you back in the office because we have several cases waiting for you," Octavia sighed.

With that, Octavia ran through the status for each division of their department and assigned several cases to a few of the senior analysts before closing out the meeting and dismissing the larger group. She gestured for Hermione and Anderson to approach her.

Hermione took a few steps over to her boss and coworker. The three formed a loose huddle as the remaining employees dispersed to their cubicles around them.

"I just received a report from the Wiltshire Conservancy that the Oak Clan of dwarves has been moving quite close to their protected unicorn sanctuary during a spring logging expedition," she said, looking at Hermione and Anderson in succession. "Officially, this could go under either of your jurisdictions."

Under their titles as Deputy Heads, Hermione was in charge of beings and spirits, and Anderson was in charge of beasts, pets, and pests. Cases often overlapped, and in the six months since Hermione took her position, it had never been a simple negotiation.

"My staff is all out in the field today, and I'm set to meet with Penelope from policy review all afternoon on the werewolf rights bill," Hermione said firmly.

Usually, she wouldn't mind rearranging her schedule. However, she was still exhausted from the Wampus cubs—something that should have been Anderson's problem—and merfolk—which she had to step in on directly because her entire staff was with Anderson. She quirked her eyebrow at the older man, daring him to challenge the undeniable fact that it was his turn to take on some of the departmental workload.

Anderson rubbed one end of his ridiculous black mustache and crinkled his eyes at Hermione.

"I'm afraid everyone on my end will be swamped in paperwork and filing about the menageries for the next few days. Documentation is vital, as close as possible to the actual events, wouldn't you agree?" Anderson smirked.

Hermione glowered and said nothing. Of course, it was vital. Her rigorous paperwork policy was well-known and hated by the entire department. However, the menagerie paperwork should have been completed at the end of each day and not all at once after the project ended, which Anderson knew and was currently using against her.

"Oh, and I forgot to mention," Anderson drawled. "I'm meeting with the Minister personally over lunch to tell him about the illegal menageries and discuss some policy proposals." He grinned at Hermione pointedly.

What she wanted to say: Go fling yourself in the Thames, you overgrown garden gnome. The Minister is my friend, and you have never overcome that.

What she did say, begrudgingly: "Well, it sounds as though you have an especially busy day." She turned to Octavia. "I can deal with the case, Octavia. Penelope won't mind meeting another time this week. I'll send her a memo."

Octavia looked at Hermione gratefully, said, "Thank you," and handed her the file.

"Please give Kingsley my best, Gerald," Hermione said sweetly, to which his grin dropped.

After a moment, he recovered. "Make sure you don't head into the field alone, Hermione." He rubbed his chin, adding, "Feel free to take Kirkpatrick with you. I don't think he's doing anything over there."

All three looked over at Kirkpatrick's cubicle, where the young wizard was trying and failing to unfurl a memo that kept swooping out of his hands and hitting him in the forehead.

"He's right, Hermione," Octavia said, sending her a commiserative shrug. "Better bring him with you."

Hermione deflated further. Anderson turned toward his office, whistling lightly.

With a sigh, Hermione faced Octavia. "I've never dealt with the Oak Clan before. Anything in particular I should know?"

The older witch's dark eyes pierced into her own. "Don't flinch," she said. "Dwarfs hate flinchers." At that moment, Octavia's silver pocket watch began to wail, and she pulled it out to gaze at its face. "I'm afraid I'm off. Good luck!"

With that ominous piece of advice, she left Hermione alone. "Great," she muttered under her breath.

Looking down at the file in her hands, Hermione cast a quick Geminio charm to duplicate the papers, steeled herself, and walked over to her unwitting partner for the day.

By the time she reached his desk, Kirkpatrick had unfurled the memo, though the red parchment was flinching as if it still wanted to take flight.

"Finite," Hermione said with a flick of her wand. The paper stilled, and Kirkpatrick smiled in wonder.

"Thanks," he said happily.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Hello, Daniel. We're going to Wiltshire today to deal with some dwarfs who are endangering a unicorn sanctuary. Here is the file." She set the copied papers down on his desk. "Please take the next hour to read through everything carefully."

She spoke slowly, enunciating each word, and looked directly into Kirkpatrick's vacant blue eyes.

"'Kay," he said solemnly.

When Hermione turned around to head into her office, she was grinding her teeth.

The apparition point was a Muggle bus stop on a deserted dirt road. After spiriting her and Kirkpatrick there via side-along, Hermione took a moment to look around at the winding hillside before them, spotting the closest edge of the enchanted forest about a kilometer away in the distance.

She turned to her companion and spoke, "We're going to need to fly above the canopy into the forest." She pulled the parchment map out of her pocket and unfurled it, pointing to the sanctuary's border within the green expanse. "It's about five kilometers in. If we run into the clan, remember that the leader is Gorig-nak, and we must stand our ground firmly. No handshakes, bowing, curtsies, or anything like that. "

Kirkpatrick looked at her and clutched the handle of his broom. "I'm not a fair flyer."

That makes two of us, Hermione thought bitterly. Still, she said in her mothering tone, "It's alright, it will be a straight shot. Just make sure after we land not to try and apparate anywhere. This forest has a lot of magical energy, and it's unsafe."

He nodded quickly, and his sandy blonde curls bounced around his ears.

They mounted their brooms and set off. It was sunny, with only a few clouds floating across the blue sky.

At first, they were doing well, gliding smoothly atop the canopy of trees. Kirkpatrick followed slightly behind to Hermione's left. She listened carefully for the sounds of synchronous chanting and the thwack of axes, and occasionally, she cast charms to see if any large beings were hidden below the greenery.

However, after ten minutes of silence, her broom began to wobble precariously. The Ministry-standard brooms were not the most elegant creations. Still, they were usually sturdy enough that even Hermione felt safe flying, especially as slowly as they moved. She sheathed her wand and grabbed the knobby handle with both hands.

Kirkpatrick began to cry out shakily, and a quick glance over her shoulder showed that he, too, was struggling to keep his broom level.

"I think we should land!" Hermione called out behind her. Her broom lurched upward, and she let out a loud yelp.

"I don't think I can," came the equally loud reply. Then, Kirkpatrick's broom shot forward in front of Hermione's, and she looked on in horror as he slipped off the bucking stick and down toward the trees.

Hermione didn't have long to contemplate Kirkpatrick's possible death before she fell, too. Her broom had given up its ability to fly from underneath her, and she was suddenly careening toward the green expanse of the canopy below.

Hermione pulled her wand from its holster on her arm in the split second before she fell. When her feet met the topmost branches, though, the shock and fear hit her all at once, and Hermione was frozen in terror as the snap of branches and sting of wood surrounded and filled her senses.

She screamed, and in the distance, she could hear Kirkpatrick screaming too, just as high-pitched and horrified as hers.

A particularly thick branch hit Hermione's left foot, flipped her forward, and jarred her into awareness. She gritted her teeth, swept her arm out as far as she could in what she hoped was Kirkpatrick's direction, and shouted, "Arresto Momentum!"

The syllables had been tremulous on her tongue, and for a beat of her heart, she thought the spell hadn't worked. Then the wind in her ears died down, and the scratch of wood on her exposed cheeks and hands stopped. Hermione opened her eyes and saw she was a short distance from the ground and dropping slowly.

She let out the breath she had been holding in. It came out in quivering spurts, and when her palms met the cool dirt of the forest floor, she brought her forehead down and hyperventilated.

When her heartbeat had calmed somewhat, Hermione rolled onto her back and sat upright, taking stock of her body. Her wand was still intact and clutched in her hand, and she moved both of her wrists in circles to ensure they were functional. When she did the same to her ankles, a sharp pain shot up her left leg, and Hermione knew it was broken or sprained.

"Bloody buggering hell," Hermione cursed. Hermione heard a moaning to her right, and she whipped her head around to find Kirkpatrick on the ground about ten meters away. She could make out his lower body around one of the thick tree trunks.

"Daniel," she called, voice thick. "Are you alright?"

"I think my arm is broken," he groaned out.

Hermione sighed in relief that Kirkpatrick was conscious. "I'm coming," she yelled. "Don't move."

Hermione pried the boot off her left foot and noted the redness and swelling. Her hands moved frantically around her torso, and she was immediately relieved to feel the comforting weight of her beaded bag at her right hip. Hermione pulled up her mental inventory of medical supplies. She scowled when she thought of the murtlap essence she had meant to purchase yesterday. She had forgotten to buy it in the commotion of Mr. Westbrook and Malfoy's altercation. Instead, she had a solution of stewed Demiguise saliva that was useless to her current situation.

She used her wand to conjure a splint and bandages wrapped tightly around her ankle. Hissing at the pain, Hermione cast a numbing charm and sighed in relief. She spotted her broom a short distance away to her left, and she summoned it toward her. Thinking there was no way she would be flying again anytime soon, she transfigured it into a crutch and used it to lift herself up.

The forest was quiet. The earthen ground was uneven, with protruding roots from the trees around them. Speckled sunlight shone through the dense canopy above them, unlike the misty darkness of the Forbidden Forest. The trees were oak, and when Hermione focused on them, she was amazed at their height—they must have been more than twenty meters tall—and their breadths, which were wider than Hermione's arms outstretched.

She felt better standing up, and it was easier to limp over to Kirkpatrick than expected.

Kirkpatrick was prostrate on his back, clutching his right arm to his chest, and his face was covered in scratches. Hermione realized her face was likely in a similar state, and she could sense that several branches were stuck in her hair, which had entirely escaped from the ponytail she had tied that morning.

"I think the enchantments in this forest interfered with the charms on our brooms. I've never seen anything like that without someone being directly cursed," Hermione said. She gently lowered herself to her knees, careful not to jostle her ankle too much. "Let me see your arm, Daniel. It's going to be okay."

"Bloody stings," he muttered, half sitting up and letting Hermione take his right wrist in her hands.

She undid the buttons on his cuff and gently pulled the sleeve up to his elbow. He yelped when she pressed two fingers into his forearm, and Hermione could tell it was broken. She cast a numbing charm over the break, and Kirkpatrick breathed in relief.

"Thanks," he uttered softly.

Hermione didn't trust herself to mend the bones alone, thinking of Gilderoy Lockhart and Harry's boneless arm on the Quidditch pitch all those years ago.

"Hold still, I'm going to bandage this," Hermione said, and when he nodded, she conjured a splint to match her own, which wrapped tightly from his wrist to his elbow. He groaned but remained mostly still, and Hermione thought he was acting remarkably adult about the whole situation. Perhaps she wouldn't send in the letter of reprimand she drafted in her mind last week.

"Everything else alright?" she asked. Now that the urgency of the situation was over, Hermione was beginning to feel the sharp pains from the scratches all over her face and hands. As the adrenaline left her bloodstream, she felt lightheaded and tired.

He replied, "All good, I think. Hell of a thing, eh? Where do you think we are?"

Kirkpatrick used his good arm to lift himself to his feet and helped Hermione up. She brought her crutch to her side and balanced on her feet.

"We can't be too far off from where we're meant to be," Hermione said. She reached into her beaded bag and pulled out the map again. She gestured for Kirkpatrick to hold one side of the parchment with his good hand. When it was unfurled, she waved her wand over the surface and incanted, "Ubisum designo."

A red dot appeared on the map in the middle of the expanse of green that signified the enchanted forest. But the dot moved and flickered after a moment, and the spell wore off a few seconds later.

"I was afraid of this," Hermione growled under her breath. "This forest is too magically active. It interferes with the stability of the location charm."

"What should we do?" Kirkpatrick's nervous voice reminded Hermione that she was his Deputy Head, his boss, and almost ten years his senior.

"Not to worry," She assured him in the strongest tone she could manage. "We can try our emergency portkeys, and if they don't work, it's not too far to—"

"Who dares cross our territory?"

Hermione jumped. She whipped around with her wand arm outstretched, almost sending her crutch thudding to the ground. In front of her were no less than fifty short, bearded men interspersed throughout the trees, glaring at them, arms crossed. Many held thick iron axes that gleamed menacingly in the dotted light that shone through the canopy.

"Oh," Hermione toned softly, and she lowered her wand. Kirkpatrick, who had not reacted defensively, stood beside her, his mouth gaping like a fish. She folded the map and elbowed him gently, and he stood up straighter and closed his mouth.

Rapidly gathering her thoughts and slightly pleased that she would be able to relay that they found the dwarfs despite their perplexing broom mishap, Hermione spoke.

"Greetings! I seek Gorig-nak of the Oak Clan. I am Hermione Granger, and we come from the Ministry of Magic."

The three dwarfs at the head of the group, all with deep black beards, eyed each other slowly, and then, without warning, they advanced.

"Gah!" They cried, jumping toward Hermione and Kirkpatrick.

Hermione yelped in alarm but used the leverage from her crutch to stand her ground. On the other hand, Kirkpatrick let out a high-pitched shriek and took several frantic steps backward.

"Weakling!" The center black-bearded dwarf cried, heaving his axe toward Kirkpatrick, who whimpered.

Hermione remained stoic, mind working rapidly. She listed all the known facts about the Oak Clan she had memorized from the file that morning. Extremely territorial. Nonviolent unless directly threatened. Excellent woodworkers and gardeners. Fire worshippers. Highly intelligent, but with limited desire for verbal communication. Respond to displays of strength.

Tamping down on her feelings of silliness, Hermione shifted her weight to her good foot and raised her crutch above her head. She took a heaving breath and shouted gutturally, "GAH! Take us to Gorig-nak!"

The dwarfs murmured amongst themselves, and Hermione was relieved when the black-bearded one who had advanced on Kirkpatrick stepped backward toward his clan. She lowered her crutch slowly and, with her free hand, gestured for Kirkpatrick to stay close but remain a few steps back. She heard him shuffle behind her but did not break her gaze away from the dwarfs.

A moment later, the sea of bushy hair parted down the middle slightly, and a red-bearded dwarf stepped forward. Surprisingly, he was the shortest of the group that she could see. Still, the weathered lines around his black eyes indicated he was one of the elders.

The dwarf spun his heavy axe in the air and ran the blade into the hard ground. The wooden handle stayed aloft when he let it go, and he placed his hands on his hips.

"I am Gorig-nak," he said. His voice was gravelly but not as deep as his black-bearded companion's.

Hermione wobbled slightly and cleared her throat. "I am Hermione," she said, pronouncing each syllable of her name slowly. "My companion is Daniel. We come with a request for the Oak Clan to…" She searched for a simple way to phrase the issue and regretted the fact that she did not have a few days to write and review a script. She gave up and said, "...live peacefully with the unicorns and respect the borders of your land."

Grumblings erupted from the clan. Hermione bit her lip and wondered whether this was all of the male members of the clan, weighing the possibility of another fifty axe-wielders sneaking up behind them in the trees. She held her wand tightly.

Gorig-nak replied gruffly, "We listen to the forest. Nature speaks and tells us where to harvest."

"The…harvest," Hermione began, working hard for her mind to catch up with her words, "harms the unicorns. Can you remain away from where they roam?"

"We do not harm the forest's creatures," Gorignak replied. His hands came to fists at his knees. "Only wood."

"Wood…wood…wood," came the husky echoes from the remaining dwarfs. Hermione wondered how many hordes of miniature beings she would have to encounter that year.

"This year in the, er…North, your harvest is approaching the unicorns' home," Hermione responded cautiously, eyeing one particularly burly dwarf rubbing the handle of his axe in what was distinctly menacing. She decided that questions rather than statements might be a better communication method. "Where will the harvest go next?"

"The Oak Clan follows the young sun on these days. Nature seeks balance," Gorig-nak said, sweeping his hands in an arc above his head with much more grace than Hermione would have expected from such a stocky figure.

Riddles again, Hermione thought bitterly. Follows the young sun. That probably meant the dwarfs would venture east toward the sunrise. Bringing up a mental picture of the sanctuary borders, Hermione realized that meant the clan would be heading away from the disputed border. She sighed outwardly in relief.

"We are happy to hear your words. Thank you." Hermione took a moment to glance behind her at Kirkpatrick, who was clutching his bandaged arm, seemingly in fear for his life. Feeling the weight of her responsibility, Hermione wanted to get him out of the forest and to St. Mungo's.

She turned back toward Gorig-nak and continued. "The Ministry of Magic wishes a peaceful harvest to the Oak Clan."

"GAH!" Gorgi-nak cried.

The clan echoed, "GAH!"

Kirkpatrick softly from behind her: "Gah!"

Hermione wished she could have reviewed the map and borders of the protected sanctuary with Gorig-nak in detail. Still, she sensed that anything so blatantly logistical would have provoked the clan—or at the least would not have held their attention.

When Gorig-nak had mentioned the creatures of the forest, he said it reverently, and Hermione could sense his respect for nature. When she was younger, Hermione may have pushed the issue, seeking explicit confirmation—in writing preferably—that the clan would not hurt any single unicorn, whether purposefully or by accident. But direct experience with magical beings taught her how naive she had been. Nowadays, she works more intuitively and with less of a human-centric point of view.

With Gorig-nak, something about his tone and the dwarfs' posture throughout the thick trunks of the shaded enclosure made her pause and trust them. She would write up her report with her personal assurance that the clan would not actively harm the sanctuary.

One problem remained: how can she and Daniel leave the forest as quickly as possible? Based on how their brooms had behaved, she felt that their emergency portkeys were likely to send them careening off course. With brooms out of the question, that left walking, something already difficult with Hermione's ankle and made even more difficult because they were moving blindly without using their map.

"Gorig-nak," Hermione ventured, and the dwarf grunted in recognition. She continued, "We are lost and unable to navigate the forest. Will the clan help us find our way out?"

"The end is close, but the trees are dark," Gorig-nak replied. "Nuktuk!" He turned around and called behind him. An unusually sinewy dwarf with chestnut brown hair stepped out from the mass of men, and Gorignak addressed them again. "Nuktuk will guide you."

Hermione was relieved to see that Nuktuk did not have an axe, though his torso was wrapped many times over with course-woven rope. He grunted, and his black eyes were wide, peeking out from behind thick brows.

"Thank you," Hermione said with genuine gratitude oozing through her tone.

The clan began to turn around and walk away from Hermione, Kirkpatrick, and Nuktuk. Hermione turned toward Kirkpatrick, whose typically vacant expression had returned to his face as he stared at Nuktuk.

"How are you doing, Daniel?" Hermione asked as she reached into her beaded bag, looking for a jar where she could cast bluebell flame for their walk. She hoped "the end is close" meant very close and not more than her ankle could handle.

"Fine," he said. "You know, Nuktuk kind of looks like you," he mused vaguely, but his eyes widened as he looked at her face, which had scrunched up in distaste. "Distantly! Of course, quite distantly. Now that I think of it—no. Not at all. What was I thinking?" He laughed nervously and rubbed his bandaged arm.

Hermione rolled her eyes as her hand closed around a glass jar. She peeked at Nuktuk out of the corner of her eye and admitted to herself that, if nothing else, the color of his curly hair matched her own. At least Kirkpatrick hadn't said she resembled Gorig-nak, who was wider than he was tall.

Holding her crutch tight under her left arm, Hermione took the glass jar in her left hand and used her wand arm to duplicate it twice, levitating the three vessels in front of her. She then cast the incantation for her favored bluebell flames, which floated independently upward and down into the mouths of the jars.

A guttural scream pierced the air. Hermione whipped around and saw that the sound came from Nuktuk, who had crouched down, his gaze welded to her glowing jars.

"FLAME!" He cried.

From behind them, the thud of dozens of footsteps sounded, and Hermione turned in alarm to see that the entire clan had doubled back and surrounded them.

Kirkpatrick shrieked again and stepped close to Hermione's side. She was too gobsmacked to say anything and merely looked around them to asses the danger.

Gorig-nak stepped forward, eyes glued to the bluebell flames. "Fire-wielder," he uttered.

"Fire-wielder…flame…fire-wielder," sounded the gruff whispers of the other clan members. Then, suddenly, the clatter of iron and wood hitting the hard forest floor rang out, and all of the clan knelt on the ground.

"Uh…" Hermione faltered.

"What is happening?" Kirkpatrick whispered frantically into her ear.

"Shh," Hermione hissed.

"You control the flame," Gorig-nak said in astonishment, arms outstretched to the three hovering jars.

"Er…yes," Hermione said, mind whirling.

The file on the Oak Clan had not been directly updated for over thirty years. She wondered whether the dwarfs gathered here had ever encountered a witch before and if they had whether that witch had used magic in front of them. Even if that witch had used magic before, it was unlikely they would have conjured an enchanted flame; of course, it was a somewhat illogical thing to do in a dense forest like this, of all places, but it was something of a specialty.

"Fire Queen," Gorig-nak voiced in what Hermione thought suspiciously sounded like a proclamation, interrupting her train of thought.

To Hermione's growing horror, Gorig-nak raised his axe in the air over his head and repeated in a deep tone, "Fire Queen!"

Nuktuk and the other clan members followed suit, raising their hands or weapons and cheering, "Fire Queen!" They began to hum in a low, rhythmic pattern.

"Oh Merlin…Better play along," Kirkpatrick said softly, and then he, too, stepped back, kneeled awkwardly with only one arm for balance, and cried, "Fire Queen!"

"Daniel, honestly," Hermione scolded. This was one of the more ridiculous situations she had been in during her time at the Ministry of Magic, and she wasn't certain how to get out of it. She could have just used Lumos to light her wand. Still, it was hard enough walking with a crutch using both her hands. Balancing through the uneven terrain while holding her wand out was silly when the bluebells could hover next to them. Really, it was just a matter of practicality—

"Fire Queen, what may the Oak Clan offer you?" Gorig-nak said, eyes and downward to her feet.

The entire scene was getting out of hand, veering in a highly unethical direction. Hermione's mind whirred through scenarios to try and get her and Daniel out of this as fast as possible.

"Gorig-nak," she began nervously. "I am not a queen, er…yes, and we would like Nuktuk to guide us to the edge of the forest, and, er..." She wondered whether it would work but soldiered on anyway. "I offer you this flame as a token of our gratitude."

She plucked one of the bluebell jars out of the air with her free hand and placed it on the ground before Gorig-nak. Immediately, hushed gasps sounded throughout the span of the forest where the clan members knelt. Their leader looked at the jar with wide eyes.

"The Fire Queen has given us a flame," announced Gorig-nak, who picked up the jar and turned around, lifting it above his head in display.

Silence. For a long moment, Hermione was positive she made a terrible mistake. Then, to her right, Nuktuk jumped to his feet and cheered, and the other fifty dwarfs joined in.

The noise was deafening. It startled some birds, who squawked and set off into the forest's depths. Hermione looked around in bewilderment before making eye contact with Kirkpatrick, who was kneeling beside Nuktuk. He met Hermione's gaze, eyes wide, and stood up with some difficulty before letting out a half-hearted "Woo!"

Eventually, Gorig-nak stepped toward Hermione, jar still clutched in the meaty fingers of his hands. He said, "The harvesters of the Oak Clan will bring you to the end, Fire Queen." He whistled sharply in a looping tune.

Two of the burliest black-bearded dwarfs emerged from the group and approached Hermione. She couldn't make out their expressions behind the mass of hair on their faces, but she feverishly hoped they were peaceful. They stood side-by-side next to Hermione, and before she could process what was happening, they grabbed either side of her waist and placed her on their shoulders. Panicking, Hermione yelped. Her transfigured crutch fell with a thud to the ground, and Hermione's hands came to rest on the dwarfs' heads for balance.

"There's no need for this," Hermione exclaimed, to no effect.

"Uh…Hermione, are you okay? What should I do?" asked Kirkpatrick in his first actual offer of assistance since the entire ridiculous situation had escalated.

Hermione glared at him as the dwarfs began to walk. Apparently, the entire group was joining them on the trek. "Well, come along, I suppose!" She called out, and Kirkpatrick scrambled to stay close to her, which was difficult since it seemed all the clan members wanted to be next to the Fire Queen.

The ride was remarkably smooth, and Hermione wondered again how such disproportionate beings could move so gracefully across the uneven ground. The clan hummed as they marched, a song with no melody that Hermione could identify.

After several minutes, the trees grew close together, so close that eventually, the two dwarfs carrying Hermione on their shoulders barely fit between the trunks. As Gorig-nak had warned, the forest also grew darker.

The clan leader marched at the head of the pack, the bluebell flame clutched reverently in his hands. The ghostly light illuminated their path through the forest. The other two jars Hermione had created floated next to her, following the call of her wand.

She didn't know how long they walked. Hermione looked periodically at Kirkpatrick, who found a space in the mob just ahead of her, to ensure he was unharmed and still with them. A feeling of dread bloomed in her stomach. She just coordinated a field mission in which both she and her subordinate were injured, and she inadvertently led an entire clan of dwarfs to believe she was some type of deity. On top of that, who knew if the clan would actually stay away from the borders of the Unicorn sanctuary? Hermione thought this might be her worst-ever failure since she joined the Ministry.

She looked for Kirkpatrick again and let her mind follow the rhythmic humming of the dwarfs.

Eventually, a light began to grow in the distance. Hermione squinted, and after a minute, she could make out green grass and an open space peeking out from between the trees. Some of the dwarfs stopped walking and stepped aside to let the two dwarfs carrying Hermione through to the head of the group. Gorig-nak stopped at the outermost edge of the forest, where the light was streaming through brightly, though he did not step outside the border.

The two dwarfs carrying Hermione reached up and lifted her over their shoulders, setting her on the ground gently. She briefly forgot about her left ankle and winced when she tried to put some weight on it. Kirkpatrick approached her and offered his good hand so she could balance. She smiled at him gratefully, and he helped her pivot toward the dwarfs behind them.

Gorig-nak knelt before Hermione and said, "Thank you, Fire Queen. Please continue to bless us with your flames."

"Oh," Hermione said, surprised. "Well, you are welcome, Gorig-nak. Uh…" She looked around and waved her wand to summon the two other bluebell flames toward her. "Here you go," she said, handing each jar to the two dwarfs who carried her, whose black eyes grew to their largest size in astonishment. "The flames will last until…" She didn't know how to say that the enchantment would fade over the next few weeks if she didn't renew the charm personally. Thinking for some reason of Queen Helia and the fairies, she settled on "until the next moon."

In unison, the dwarfs cheered, "Thank you, Fire Queen!"

"Let's go," Hermione whispered to Kirkpatrick, who nodded and helped her limp to the forest's edge. "Goodbye!" She called out behind her.

When Hermione and Kirkpatrick stepped out of the trees and into a large meadow and expansive hillside, she could feel the atmosphere shift around them. She looked behind her and was shocked when she couldn't find anything in the forest. It was as if the light ended beyond the first row of trunks, fading abruptly to a darkness that obscured any of the dwarfs if they still remained. She noticed that the sun was low in the distance in the direction of the forest, almost disappearing behind the canopy.

"That was…interesting," Kirkpatrick said. A gurgling sounded, and he looked down his torso. "I'm starved."

"Let's get away from the forest first," Hermione said, eyeing the perplexing blackness beyond the trees. "And we should take care of that arm, too. Do you have your emergency portkey?"

"Think so," Kirkpatrick replied. He helped her walk awkwardly to the meadow's center, and Hermione stopped him when she felt they were a safe enough distance away from the forest.

Kirkpatrick reached into his robes and was startled when his hand came out empty. Panicked, he patted his trouser pockets before pulling out his wand and calling, "Accio Portkey!"

Nothing appeared. Kirkpatrick looked at her sheepishly and said, "I think it must have fallen out when we fell from our brooms."

Hermione sighed tiredly. "That's alright; I've got one." She reached down into the beaded bag at her hip and looked around for the familiar velvet drawstring pouch that held her portkey to St. Mungo's. She always kept it accessible in the pocket of the lining at her bag's opening. She thought briefly of the time when St. Mungo's was unavailable to her and the blood that oozed from Ron's splinted shoulder. She blinked the memory away.

She pooled the dirty, tattered sleeve of her robe in the palm of her hand and emptied the velvet pouch on the fabric. A purple button dropped onto her covered palm.

"Alright," Hermione nodded. "This is set to activate on first contact, so we need to touch it together."

"Three two one touch?" Kirkpatrick asked.

Hermione nodded and squared her shoulders. "Three. Two. One—"

Kirkpatrick reached forward on "one," Hermione didn't know why she was surprised. She yelled, "No!" and tried to grab onto him. But Kirkpatrick was already gone with the blue flash of the portkey, and Hermione found herself alone in a grassy field, balancing on one foot.

"Daniel!" Hermione huffed in anger. If she could have, she would have stomped her heel. At least Kirkpatrick was at the hospital, she thought, hoping he had enough sense to just get himself looked at on his own.

A crack sounded behind her, and Hermione spun around, but she lost her balance and fell on her bum. The grass was dewey.

"Master would like to know who is visiting." The voice that spoke was hoarse and low. Hermione blinked, righted her torso to sit up straight, and found herself at eye level with the oldest house elf she had ever seen.

The elf wore a white apron and a black satin waistcoat that stretched down to his knobby knees like a tunic. Several strands of white hair stuck out from the top of his head, and his large dark eyes were glazed over with film.

"What?" Hermione voiced, dumbfounded.

"Your name, please," the elf said.

"Oh." Hermione responded, "Hermione Granger. Who are you?"

"I am Bob," he croaked out. "Please wait." And with that, he popped away.

Sitting with her bum on the wet grass, Hermione surmised that this field was actually someone's property, and likely a rich someone if they had an elf. She turned onto her knees and stood gingerly, keeping the weight off her ankle.

Thinking it was worth a shot, Hermione pulled out her wand, closed her eyes, and brought the image of the St. Mungo's lobby to mind. She twisted her wand and spun as best she could with one foot. When she opened her eyes, she was still in the field.

"Bollocks," Hermione cursed. What else could make this day any worse?

A crack sounded out again, and Hermione jumped in alarm but managed to stay on her feet. the elf—Bob, she reminded herself, a ridiculous name for a house elf—was back. He stood directly next to her, his head reaching the top of Hermione's knee.

"Master Theodore will see you now," he said, grabbing her hand.

"Wait, what did you—"

A crack, and they were gone.

Up Next: Draco confronts Theodore about his secrets, and then the two Slytherins are shocked by the unexpected arrival of Hermione Granger.

Bonus to those who catch the references for Gorig-nak (Galaxy Quest) and Nuktuk (The Legend of Korra)!