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TITLE: Cardcaptor Hermione (1/?)
AUTHOR: DarkAngel
AUTHOR E-MAIL: [email protected]
RATING: PG-13
GENRE: Err.. mahou shojou (magic girl)
OTHER SHIPS: Perhaps Harry/other... Random couples will be
popping up all over the place as I go. It's yet to be decided for sure,
though.
SPOILERS: All four books.
SUMMARY: Hermione discovers the Book of Clow on an
archaeological dig and sets the cards loose. Plays like Cardcaptor Sakura with a few twists.
Post-Hogwarts. DISCLAIMER: My attorneys have deemed this
disclaimer airtight and impregnable: I am not J.K. Rowling. Nor am I Scholastic,
Raincoast, Bloomsbury, AOL Time Warner or anybody else who has
publishing/distribution rights to the Harry Potter series. I am also not
CLAMP, the talented creators of Cardcaptor Sakura. And I'm
certainly not Nelvana, Kodansha, NEP 21 or anybody else that purveys
official CCS stuff. Any motions made to litigate me for any assets I may own
will prove fruitless, as the only thing of worth I feel I have is my
scattered collection of wits, which I keep in a mason jar on my bedside
table.
~Episode 1: The Fly~
A long time ago, there lived a man named Clow Reed. Born of an
English father and Chinese mother, he was one of the greatest
magicians the world had seen. During his life, he created a new
branch of magic. In days of old, sorcerers trained as apprentices
of certain magical houses, before becoming full fledged members
of that house. Rarely did they dabble in magic other than their
own.
Clow Reed changed all that. Blending the traditional Eastern
and Western styles of magic, he created something that was
uniquely his own. One of the greatest suriving pieces of evidence
was thought to be missing for a long time, until it was uncovered
by a team of archaeologists centuries later. This artefact, a
book, could only be unlocked when the right heir had come along.
In the closing days of the 20th century, a young woman by the
name of Hermione Granger discovered the book, and this is her
story.
Hermione Granger had been born into an ordinary home to
ordinary parents (for indeed, dentists are some of the most
ordinary people you can find, accountants aside) and raised
during the later years of her childhood and adolesensce in a
world which prepared her well for the magical journey she was
about to embark upon.
It was an usually sunny day in Scotland where our story
begins. A small hamlet could be spied over the hill, a well worn
footpath leading to it from a copse of trees. From out of the
forest, a tall woman stepped out, carrying a battered suitcase.
Hermione Granger blinked against the morning sunlight and
hefted her case to her other hand, shielding her face with her
right. The village wasn't too far away. If she walked quickly,
she could make it before the the eight o'clock owl. She set
herself onto the dusty footpath, and entered the village of Moray
Woe.
The main road was lined with an eclectic collection of shops.
A butcher's shop was located right across the street from a tea
room in which one could get their fortune told. Hermione clucked
her tongue; she didn't hold with divination, but people flocked
there on a daily basis regardless. Beside the tea shop was a
small grocery store and Hermione entered.
Grabbing a basket, she made her way quickly and methodically
down the aisles and paid the cashier. Her arms laden with bags
and a suitcase, Hermione came to a stop in front of a low brick
flat. A neat stack of firewood was piled by the door and the
grass was beginning to take on a life of its own. Hermione was
sure she could hear the light giggles of gnomes in the grass.
It took a creative shifting of packages in her arms to get her
door open, and she fumbled with her wand to lock the door behind
her. Although magical intruders were rare, one could never be too
careful. Shuffling to the kitchen, Hermione deposited her
packages on the counter, laid her suitcase on the floor and
sighed.
She was home at last.
Shrugging her shoulders to get some feeling back into them,
Hermione started unpacking her groceries. She was right in the
middle of putting jars of marmalade in the pantry when a series
of taps came at her window. She turned around. A snowy white owl
was outside, a message tied to its leg.
Hermione hurried to the window and yanked it open, noting the
cracking noise it made as it did so. The owl flew in with a
flutter of feathers and settled onto the perch she kept for such
occasions. It stuck its leg out and waited patiently for Hermione
to relieve it of its message.
Hermione stroked the owl absently as she undid the string
tying the note. "Hello, Hedwig," she murmured.
Hedwig hooted softly in reply and clicked her beak.
Hermione finally managed to undo the string and unrolled the
parchment. She skimmed the message and smiled.
Dear Hermione,
I hope you've come home by the time this message reaches
you. Ron and I are meeting at Florean Fortescue's later this
afternoon. We're hoping you can make it. We're also having a
get together at the Burrow next week. Let us know if you can
come.
Harry
Hermione grabbed a quill and dipped it into an ink bottle. She
penned her response and sent Hedwig on her way. Just as she was
about to close the window, she spied another owl swooping towards
her house.
This owl landed on the perch and waited, its chest puffed out
proudly. She recognized it at once. She took the heavy
parchment from its leg.
Dear Ms Granger,
I hope this message finds you well. Your findings arrived
on my desk this very moment, and I am confident (from what I have
seen thus far) that your team's findings will be most
enlightening...
The message carried on in that vein for quite some time.
Hermione's boss was something of a windbag.
...assignment also happened across my desk today, one I think
you would be delighted to take. There is a site some distance
south of your home that may have been home to foreign wizards.
The origins appear to be Chinese. If you wish to take this
assignment, please owl me at your earliest convenience. We have
acquired the services of a Chinese interpreter for your team to
consult with.
Sincerely,
Tabor Fayla (director)
Hermione's heart did a little jump. This was the chance of a
lifetime! Foreign wizarding settlements in other countries
weren't all that common, much less Chinese settlements in Great
Britain! She picked up her traveling cloak and wand. With a faint
pop, she Disapparated, her kitchen window creaking to and fro in
the empty room.
***
The home of Tabor Fayla was a large if paradoxically modest
building. Made of cobbled stone, it was surrounded by iron gates.
The path leading to the dwelling was made of the same cobbled
stone material as the house, and stone birdbaths adorned various
parts of the lush front garden. However, the gate hung open, a
rusting chain attached to one end. The birdbaths were filled with
leaves, twigs and the occasional floating insect (and were also
devoid of birds), and leaning against the peeling brown front
door was a rusting poker. Here and there crooked trees with
gnarled branches twisted with the slightest wind.
Hermione approached the door and knocked.
A scuffle, and the door opened. The poker fell and landed with
a loud noise on the marble entryway. Fayla didn't seem to mind in
the least.
"Ms Granger! Oh, do come in, come in! Mind the poker there.
Would you like some tea?"
As he was saying all this, he replaced the poker back to its
previous place by the door with his wand. Hermione raised her
eyebrows but said nothing. She settled for waiting patiently
instead, and was rewarded a moment later when Fayla grinned and
gestured, his arms thrown wide.
"Please take a seat! Here, let me show you to the parlour.
Take some tea, what will you have?"
"Er, some cream please." Hermione sat down in Fayla's
parlour, a white painted room with several different clocks
adorning the walls. A collection of smaller clocks crowded the
window ledge. Checking the nearest one, a fat red clock with one
yellow arm, she saw that it was pointed to "Tea with Ms Granger".
Obviously she had been expected.
She settled herself into a padded white wicker chair just as
Fayla came in, bearing a blindingly polished silver tea tray.
"I'm so glad you could make it, Ms Granger. I'm quite excited
about this latest assignment. An old wizard was taking a walk
right as you please in the valley and stubbed his toe on the edge
of this!"
From his breast pocket Fayla produced a metal disk. He
started to talk again, unaware that Hermione was reaching out to
take the disk from him.
"We've found this artefact - the one the wizard - a Mr Morris
Decaley stumbled over. We're guessing that it's a power source of
some sort. Now, we've called in an interpreter like I said in my
letter. Her name is Meilin Xiaong. She works at the Museum of
Chinese Wizarding History in Canton province, nice place. Have
you been there?"
Before Herimone could open her mouth, he continued.
"She'll be making her way down later in the day. Initially, I
thought I'd brief her before you met, but -"
"Actually, I'm meeting with friends of mine later. Tomorrow
would be just fine."
Fayla's mouth shut and his eyebrows knitted together to
create the effect of a furry grey caterpillar moving across his
forehead. His stubby fingers fiddled with the tea tongs. He
brightened suddenly, a false smile plastering itself across his
features.
"Yes! Yes, of course. We mustn't neglect our personal lives,
after all." He began fussing with the tea, and handed Hermione a
cup. "Tomorrow morning then?"
Hermione nodded, immensely grateful that he had been brief
this time. She nodded towards the disk. "May I see that?"
Fayla nodded absently, then stood up abruptly. "I have some
business to take care of. Will you be all right by yourself?"
Hermione nodded and tested the weight of the artefact in her
hand. It was a lot heavier than she would have thought. It was a
dark green-brown with scratches all along its surface. Holding it
up to the light, she turned it this way and that. Against the
sunlight, she saw that the scratches were actually symbols etched
into the metal. The symbols - Chinese characters by the look of
them - ran around the disk in one continuous loop. Turning the
disk around, Hermione saw more scratches, but couldn't make them
out, even with the bright sunlight streaming through the window.
She muttered a spell and tapped the disk with her wand. Nothing.
She called out to Fayla.
"Do you have a magnifying glass anywhere?"
Fayla poked his head in. "Hmm?"
Hermione held up the disk. "Do you have something I could get
a closer look at this with? A magnifying glass, maybe?"
"Oh! You can find one in my study. I'd like the disk to stay
here, though."
Hermione nodded and crossed the parlour into the hallway. At
the end of the hall, she turned right and pushed open a heavy
wooden door.
Fayla's study, like the rest of his house, was a mix of
highbrow and dime store kitsch. The panneling around the room was
highly polished, the wood rich and dark. The furniture was made
of a heavy, substantial kind of wood. One of the chairs facing
Fayla's desk was high backed and claw footed with deep red
velvet padding. Hermione thought it looked much like a king's
royal seat, much out of proportion with the rest of the room,
which was nearly buried in parchment. Mounds of parchment were
stacked on the desk, along the floor, and on top of another chair
in the corner of the room. On the walls were many pictures in
frames of all shapes and sizes - wooden, plastic, metal. Hermione
saw that some of the frames had no pictures in them at all - just
small bits of parchment with reminders written on them. Others
had nothing in them at all, just various colours in the
background. Hermione stared at a blue and green background that
kept spiraling before she shook her head and looked away,
slightly dizzy.
Hermione waded her way through the sea of parchment. She
reached the desk and shoved the chair back, wincing as she heard
parchment tear. She hoped it hadn't been all that important.
Opening a drawer, she winced again as a pile of parchment
shuddered on top of the desk. Really, just how did he live in
this mess?
After some searching, Hermione found what she was looking for.
She lifted the artefact up and held the magnifying glass to it.
She could see very little, so she used her wand ("Lumos!")
to give herself some light. A thin beam of light illuminated the
room. Finally, she could make out the writing on the disk.
Unlike the other side of the disk, this side was not written
in Chinese. Rather, it was written in English.
"O Key which hides the forces of darkness..."
She stopped. She remembered suddenly that the words on the
disk may likely be an incantation, and it just wouldn't do to
release a potential danger upon the wizarding world. She would
need to conduct research, and that wouldn't be happening until
tomorrow morning. She bit her lip and sighed impatiently.
She took up the magnifying glass and read the rest of the
incantation. She frowned and turned it around to the Chinese
side. She fingered the lettering.
"Something's missing," she muttered. Turning the disk back to
the English side, she looked closely. Near the centre, the
incantation cut off abruptly. A squiggly looking arrow followed.
The Chinese side had had the arrow as well, meaning...
Hermione stood up called out. "Mr Fayla?"
The parchment on his desk quivered slightly.
Impatient, Hermione pushed her chair back, ignoring the
crunching noise of parchment being torn and scrunched against the
wall. She opened the door and used the loudest possible voice she
could without shouting.
"Mr Fayla?"
A moment later, Fayla shuffled around the corner, holding a
rag in one hand and his silver tea tray in the other. He smelled
strongly of polish, and Hermione squelched the urge to cough.
"Yes, Ms Granger?"
Hermione held up the disk. "Were there any other artefacts
like this one found at the site?"
Fayla frowned a moment, deep in thought. He shook his head
slowly.
"No, I don't think so. But you're welcome to check the
registry. It's on my desk somewhere, there -"
Hermione stared at him in disbelief but managed to get out
politely "Where on your desk?"
Fayla looked surprised at the question. "Well, right there
on top of course. Not that hard to find, a rolled bit of
parchment with -" He suddenly seemed to remember the state his
study was in, for he flushed a bit and set the tea tray on a
side table and pushed open the door.
"Pardon me, I tend to forget there's a mess in there."
Hermione had to restrain herself mightily, but managed to say
nothing. She followed Fayla, who was prattling on about one
thing or another and made occasional noises to reassure him that
she was listening. Fayla reached his desk and started rooting
through it. The pile that had been threatening to fall all the
time Hermione had been in the study finally did, parchment
cascading over Fayla's head and causing him to mumble something
about needing to find suitable help in keeping his things
in order.
As Fayla straightened, a parchment floated to a stop at
Hermione's feet. He looked chagrined.
"Well, I don't know where it could have gone, really. It was
right here this morning. Parchment can't just disappear - it's
got to be here somewhere! Don't you worry, we'll find it sooner
or later -"
Hermione had had enough. She suddenly remembered why she
seldom interacted with her boss face-to-face and vowed that this
was the first and last time she visited his home.
"I'm sure it will be found sooner or later. I'll return
tomrrow, but I really must be going now, Mr Fayla. Thank you for
the tea."
Fayla nodded at her, beaming. "Very well, then. Tomorrow.
I'll find the registry for you by then." Then he fell to his
knees, digging through the mounds of parchment. She just hoped he
wouldn't come across the ones in the vicinity of his chair
anytime soon.
As she closed the door of the study behind her, she heard a
muted crash and peeped back in. More parchment was now flying in
every direction. Fayla was stamping about, trying to catch them
in midair and treading on the ones littering the floor.
Hermione made a small clucking sound. Closing the door firmly
behind her, she walked down the hallway and out of the house,
stepping over the fallen poker. She got her wand out of her robes
and waved it once.
A second later, she was back inside her kitchen. The window
creaked. Hermione raised her wand and shut it. She then pointed
to a drawer.
"Accio quill!"
The drawer shot open and a quill came zooming into Hermione's
outstretched hand. She dipped it into a bottle of ink and wrote:
1. Attend to the garden - gnomes.
2. Fix creaking window.
3. Find Mr Fayla decent house help.
***
Diagon Alley was teeming with people in robes of every colour
doing their shopping. Stores lined both sides of the cobbled
stone streets. To her right, Hermione spotted something in a
barrel that loooked like slimy grey worms with thousands of red
legs. A sign over it proclaimed, "Centiwyrms - 20 sickles an
ounce - bargain!"
Hermione walked briskly along the street, until she heard a
voice calling her name.
"Hermione!"
Turning around, she saw none other than Harry Potter, waving.
A large grin was on his face, and he carried several bags in his
hands. "Hermione! It's good to see you!"
Hermione grinned back. "It's good to see you too, Harry. How
are you?"
Harry shrugged, the grin still in place. "I'm good. Been
shopping." He raised his bags in front of him slightly. Across
one of them "Flourish & Blotts" was scrawled in scarlet letters.
The letters were charmed to sparkle. Occasionally, a shooting
star would underline the store name.
"I was on my way to Florean Fortescue's right now. Shall we?"
He gestured with his bag laden arm down the street.
They walked leisurely down the street, catching up on old
news. Harry was talking about playing with the Falmouth Falcons,
one of England's best Quidditch teams. He gesturing animatedly,
the contents of his bags making clunking noises as his arms waved
wildly to illustrate what he was saying.
"I really think we have a shot at the World Cup this year,
Hermione. We've got this brilliant new Beater - she's got a
really strong arm on her - she knocks bludgers back sixty feet
easy."
Hermione's mouth lifted a bit. "That is impressive."
"Impressive?" Harry's eyes were round as saucers now, almost
to the point where his glasses couldn't contain them. "The
average Beater hits about a fraction as hard as she does,
Hermione! Nobody'll know what hit them!"
Hermione laughed. It was nice to see Harry so relaxed and
open. After the war with Voldemort, Harry had been withdrawn and
quiet, keeping mostly to himself. It had worried Hermione and Ron
for a long time; every night he would come home and go straight
to his room, not reappearing until the next morning. And then, he
seldom said anything.
Finally, Ron had insisted that Harry needed to get some fresh
air and dragged him to a local pub for a "boys night out". At
four o'clock in the morning, Ron and Harry had returned, drunk as
lords and laughing like hyenas.
Harry, inebriated to the point where he had to be held up by
Ron, had announced that he was going to try out for a national
Quidditch team before letting out an almighty belch and falling
unconscious.
At the time, Hermione hadn't been amused and had scolded Ron
for getting Harry drunk, but it had turned out to be good for
him. Harry's passion when he was younger had been Quidditch,
although he hadn't been able to play much of it during the war,
for fear of being struck out the sky by Voldemort or his
supporters. Now with the Death Eaters gone, Harry was free to fly
again, and as nothing made him happier, Hermione was all for it.
They approached Florean Fortescue's and took a table at the
patio to wait for Ron. Harry spoke.
"So what have you been doing for an entire month? You wouldn't
say when you left."
Hermione fixed a look on Harry. "You know that some of my work
is classified, Harry. I wasn't allowed to tell you then, and I'm
certainly not allowed to tell you now."
Harry held up his hands placatingly. "All right, you don't
have to tell me. Let's change the subject, shall we?"
Hermione nodded briskly. Harry looked amused, but kept to his
promise.
"So are you going stay home long, or does your boss have you
gallivanting off somewhere else in a few days?"
He was being lighthearted, but Hermione had to supress a
frustrated sigh. She liked her work, but it took her away from
Britain almost half the year. She rarely got to see her friends
and family, and she missed them terribly every day that she was
out working in the field.
"Actually," she said slowly. "I'm supposed to start working
tomorrow."
She could see the expression on Harry's face and quickly
added, "My assignment is in Scotland this time."
Harry's face broke into a grin. "Hey, that's great! We can
always drop by and drag you to the Burrow!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Hardly. Access to any magical
archaeological site -"
"Is strictly regulated. I know," Harry answered, still
grinning. "Ron will be happy about this. He's always complaining
that you don't come home often enough."
"I don't see why he should," she said evenly. "He's got his
fiancée to look after him, doesn't he?"
An uncomfortable silence followed in which Harry fiddled with
a napkin and Hermione stared down at the table before Harry spoke
again.
"Why don't we order? Ron'll turn up soon, I'm sure. And
besides, I'm hungry."
Harry stood up to enter the shop and came back a minute later
carrying three oversized menus. Hermione unrolled hers and
skimmed down the list. "I'll have the Blue Sundae special," she
decided, and put her menu down. Harry skimmed his for a few
minutes, then nodded. "Chocolate for me."
Instantly, their menus were whisked away by a Return charm and
a moment later, two bowls of ice cream appeared on the table. One
was dark blue with round chocolate covered sweets adorning the
surface. At first Hermione had been delighted with the ice cream
merely because the candies reminded her of Smarties, a Muggle
sweet. But to her surprise, the Smartie-sweets reappeared over
the surface of ice cream that one had just eaten. The other was a
plain chocolate ice cream in a bowl, with the added benefit of
being totally calorie free (Hermione had, of course, experimented
thoroughly).
Hermione seized her bowl and dug in, eagerly. She closed her
eyes as the first bit of Blue Sundae melted in her mouth. She
had missed this.
They ate in companionable silence for a while, until Harry
spoke again. "So, this assignment in Scotland. Are you allowed to
tell us what it is?"
Hermione leaned back in her chair and thought. Fayla hadn't
said anything about this particular assignment... But that didn't
mean he wanted her to speak openly about her work with anyone
else, she reminded herself firmly. She shook her head.
"Aw, come on, Hermione. Just a hint? I promise I won't tell a
soul." He raised his hand over his heart and made a cross.
A small, almost imperceptible sigh escaped Hermione's lips. At
length, she spoke. "I'm not sure yet just what I'm looking at,
but I think.. I think we've discovered a new power source."
Harry shook his head. "A power source?"
"Yes, a magical power source. If what I'm thinking is correct,
then this source would allow a witch or wizard to use magic
without the aid of a wand."
A small crease took form between Harry's eyebrows. "Is that
even possible?"
"Oh, yes. Only a wizard's power is unfocused then. It's
potentially dangerous."
She said this in such earnest, deadly serious tones that Harry
had to smile. "Of course," he said simply.
Hermione changed the subject. "I wonder what's taking Ron so
long."
Harry nodded to something above her head. At the same moment,
Hermione felt two strong hands grip her shoulders. She turned
around in her seat.
Ron Weasley stood behind her, grinning. "Hermione. Good to see
you." Hermione stood up and they hugged briefly, before letting
go of one another. Ron slipped into a seat at the table, his long
legs bumping against the chair across from him.
"How are you?" Hermione asked.
Ron shrugged easily. "All's quiet for the most part," he
answered. "There was a warlock in Devon who was charged with
stealing his neighbours whirligigs - those plastic windmill
things Muggles stick in their front gardens." He chuckled.
"Enchanted them to fly and sold them to Muggle children."
Hermione's mouth opened, then closed. She opened it
again and said, "Why would he have wanted to do that?"
Ron shrugged. "Muggle baiting, though he claims otherwise."
He sighed a little. "Got into loads of trouble with various
departments at the Ministry. As it stands, he's being heavily
fined, guarded and one step away from being thrown into Azkaban."
Azkaban was the wizarding prison, set on an island somewhere
north of Scotland. Hermione shivered. Harry looked distinctly
uncomfortable as well, and looked at Hermione.
"So, will you be able to take some time out from work to come
to the Burrow next week?"
Ron fixed his gaze on her, and Hermione avoided his eyes,
choosing to look straight at Harry instead. "Yes, I suppose I
will," she said with as much calm as she could inject into her
voice. "Of course, this new assignment will likely keep me very
busy, but I'll try to make the time and come down."
"Good." Ron spoke up in place of Harry. "We'll look forward to
seeing you there. Ginny's been asking about you. She hasn't seen
you in a while."
Hermione nodded. "I know. It has been too long." She smiled at
the prospect of seeing her friend again. "Yes, I think I will be
able to make it. Mark me down," she told Ron brightly.
He beamed at her. "No problem. And you can stop by any time
before that, if you want. We all miss you."
Hermione smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I've missed
you all, too."
Ron ordered his ice cream (strawberries and sherbet) and they
fell into a comfortable banter that lasted until Ron announced
that he had to return to work and Harry declared that
he had Quidditch practice. They all stood up. Hermione hugged
Harry and Ron one more time, and smiled. "Next week, then."
Both men nodded affably at her, and Hermione set her money
down on the table. With a final wave at them both, she got her
wand out and Disapparated.
She appeared inside her kitchen again. The faint sound of the
clock ticking was the only noise in the room. Sighing, she sank
deeply into a chair. A visit. To the Burrow. She laid her head
upon the cool tabletop and breathed slowly out.
"When am I ever going to let this go?" she spoke to the empty
room, despair making her voice crack.
Nobody answered.
***
The next morning dawned cold and grey. Hermione woke and
quickly reached for her dressing gown, shivering. Glancing at her
bedside clock, she was that it was 5:30.
Padding downstairs, Hermione blinked wearily at the dim light
coming through the curtains. She waved her wand in the direction
of the coffee pot and instantly perked up at the smell of strong
liquid brew. The soft bubbling noise it made comforted her, and
she began preparing breakfast.
An hour later, Hermione was wide awake and ready to head down
to the site to see what she could make of that disk she'd seen
last night, when a soft tap came at her window. A tawny owl and
the same barn owl from yesterday. Fayla's owl.
Hermione quickly opened the window. It creaked open, and
Hermione bent down to a drawer underneath the counter. She came
up again with "Mrs Skower's All Purpose Magical Household
Solution" just as the owls took places on their perch and stuck
their legs out in unison.
She put the container of solution down on the counter and
relieved the tawny owl first, then Fayla's owl. The tawny gave a
hoot and spread its wings. Hermione felt a rush of air as it took
off out the open window.
Hermione looked curiously at Fayla's owl. "You're staying
for breakfast, are you? Well, while you're here, would you like
some bacon rinds?"
She pointed to the plate of bacon sitting on her table. The
owl merely stared at her, and finally gave a stuffy sounding
hoot. Hermione just raised her eyebrows and went to the kitchen
table, opening Fayla's note. It was short (comparatively
speaking) and asked Hermione to come to the site (directions were
written in great detail) at 7 o'clock sharp. He and Meilin Xiaong
would be there.
"P.S. Please keep the details of this assignment to yourself."
Hermione read aloud. She looked over to the owl. "What, does he
expect me to answer to that?"
The owl hooted an affirmative. Hermione sighed.
After inking a response to Foyler, she looked at the kitchen
clock, whose hand was on, "Get dressed right this minute!"
At 7 o'clock on the dot, Hermione arrived on site. Fayla was
waiting there, with a willowy woman with short hair and clear
brown eyes. She wore crisp grey work robes, which constrasted
sharply with Fayla's choice of clothing - deep velvet purple
robes with an aquamarine tam. Both wore black cloaks to ward off
the morning chill.
Hermione gathered her own cloak more tightly around her with
her left hand and extended her right as Fayla made
introductions. He handed both women a copy of the registry he had
been looking for yesterday and departed with a faint popping
noise.
After an odd moment, Meilin Xiaong spoke briskly. "I think we
should get to business. Mr Fayla has told you about the
artefact?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, I took a look at it yesterday. The
writing on it seems to be an incantation of some sort."
Xiaong nodded once. "I agree." She reached inside
her robes and withdrew the disk. "Mr Fayla has lent it to me for
our use. Hopefully we will be able to find a clue as to what the
incantation is used for."
Hermione nodded and looked around. Equipment was lying in a
neat pile a few feet away; tents, perimeter markers and other
provisions. "Who else is coming?" she asked.
"I do not know," Xiaong answered. Her gaze flickered from the
equipment, then to Hermione, and finally to the horizon. "Mr
Foyler said that he had selected a team and that they would be
arriving shortly."
A faint pop, and a tall, sandy haired appeared between the two
women. He spotted Hermione.
"This the dig team for the Chinese artefact?"
"Yes it is. Who else is -"
Before Hermione could finish the sentence, a series of pops
filled the air as other members of the team began appearing in
the valley. Hermione closed her mouth.
After the last person had Apparated in the valley, Hermione
called them all to order.
"I'm glad you all could make it. Is that all of you?"
The witches and wizards all looked at one another. The sandy
haired man counted them all. "Yes, that's all of us."
Hermione nodded. "Good. I suppose Mr Fayla let you all know
the specifics of the assignment?"
Several heads bobbed around the valley.
"Let's get to work, then."
In a matter of seconds, the valley was filled with purposeful
chatter as they began setting up, grabbing markers and mapping
where they would dig. Hermione grabbed a tent and began pulling
it out of its casing. When she had got it out, it made a loud
popping noise.
Hermione stepped back and crossed her arms, inspecting the
tent. A peek inside showed her a three room setup: an office,
sleeping quarters and a small bathroom. Satisfied, Hermione
stepped out and watched as the team stuck perimeters in the
ground. Over in the northwest corner of the field they had begun
digging. Hermione called to the sandy haired man.
The man looked up from a map he was consulting and spoke in
low tones to the group around him before ambling easily over to
Hermione.
"You're in charge of all this for a while, all right?" She
gestured to the work going on around them.
The man, Ross Collins looked around and nodded. "Sure thing.
And if we find anything -?"
"Give me a shout, then."
He nodded, grinning, and ambled back over to his group.
Hermione looked across the valley and spotted Xiaong across the
way, flipping through a small notebook. She was making notes, her
quill scratching deftly across the parchment. Something glinted
in the light, and Hermione narrowed her eyes a bit before
recognizing the disk. She strode purposefully over.
Xiaong was so absorbed in analyzing the disk that she didn't
notice Hermione until she cleared her throat. Xiaong looked
sharply up at Hermione, then nodded curtly. "This artefact is
interesting. I have not seen one like it for such a long time."
Excited, Hermione spoke. "You mean you've seen something like
this before?"
Xiaong nodded, making a few more notations in her book before
closing it and looking straight at Hermione. "This is an old -
very ancient - power source. There are very few of them that
exist anymore," she said softly. Her eyes were wistful. She came
back to herself with an instant snap. "However, only one part of
the incantation is written on this disk. I think there is another
part to it. Maybe not another disk, but something that will give
us an idea of what this is and how to unlock the spell."
Hermione looked at the disk. "If there's something to unlock,"
she said. She didn't like the idea of trying to run through the
spell without knowing what it was.
Xiaong looked at her for a moment, before conceding evenly,
"If there is something to lock, granted, Ms Granger."
"Hermione. Please call me Hermione," Hermione said.
A nod. "Very well." She looked out over the dig. "It would be
most interesting to find a settlement here. I hope that somewhere
within it we can find the key to this artefact."
An absent nod from Hermione. "Yes, so do I." She nodded at
Xiaong and went to join the team. Truth be told, she wanted to
find the key to the artefact as well, and it would probably be
found a lot faster if she pitched in. She spoke with Collins and
staked out a spot on the map. Grabbing a perimeter marker and her
wand, she set out.
The lunch hour came with the clear chiming of an enchanted
bell. Hermione sighed with relief and wiped sweat from the back
of her neck. She stood up and grimaced at the twinge she felt in
her back. Looking down at the hole she'd dug, she made a face at
it. Five hours of digging had yieled nothing but dirt and a few
unusually large worms. She lifted her shovel blade end up and it
turned back into her wand.
Massaging the cricks from her neck as she walked, Hermione
came to the south end where most of the tents were set up. A long
white table had been magicked nearby. Every surface of it was
covered with food: roast beef slices, sandwiches, several stews,
puddings, lamb and pumpkin juice were among a few of the things
laid out. Hermione grabbed a plate and began filling it
gratefully. She found a fairly large stone and perched atop it.
She had just moved her spoon to her lips when she saw a snow
white owl circling the sky, as if looking for someone. It seemed
to find what it was looking for and began its descent. It was a
moment before Hermione realized that the owl was coming in her
direction. Several heads turned to watch the owl. Hermione
quickly put her plate down.
"Hedwig!"
The owl in question hooted. Hermione saw a note attached to
her leg and untied it. She gestured to her plate. "Would you like
some beef?"
Hedwig hooted in acknowledgement and bent down to capture a
slice in her beak. Hermione unfolded her message and read aloud.
Hermione,
It's me, Ginny. I'm using Harry's owl - he's staying at the
Burrow with us for a while. I'm glad to hear that you've made it
back home! How are you? Things at home have been peaceful - Mum's
been teaching me how to cook a few things. They're turning out
pretty good, and I'll be helping her next week for the reunion.
Ron told me that you're coming. That's great! We can catch up.
There's so much that's happened this last month, but I don't want
to tell you in a letter.
Harry told me that you were in Scotland on another assignment.
It's great that you're closer to home, but don't overdo it. I'm
going to be in Hogsmeade in a couple of days, we could meet
before the reunion, if you want. Let me know what you think.
Ginny
Hermione folded the note and bit her lip. It seemed that
everybody wanted her to come to the Burrow. She held back a tinge
of unfounded irritation. But Ginny seemed to understand her
reluctance in coming. She had mentioned that she wanted to tell
Hermione something, and that it would be nice if she could come
to the Burrow; but by the same token, she had also given Hermione
a chance not to go by coming to Hogsmeade, where she could just
as easily give Hermione whatever news she had then.
Hermione closed her eyes and breathed sharply as a deep well of
frustration passed over her. This shouldn't be as hard as she was
making it. She and Ron were old news - he had a new life now -
she had a new life now. But though her mind could accept this
relatively well on the best of days, her heart never could. She
tried to shove the images of their last argument from her mind,
but they came unbidden.
It had been a chilly October night at the house she, Harry and
Ron shared in London. She and Ron had been having another
argument - not unusual, as the two couldn't go a week without
fighting. Hermione secretly suspected that Ron purposely picked
some of those fights with her simply because he enjoyed seeing
her mad. This time however, there was none of the
lightheartedness and warmth that flowed underneath the surface of
their arguments. The atmosphere in the room was as hard and cold
as stone.
The argument they were having had been rehashed in one form or
another for a long time now: Ron had been upset that Hermione had
been spending far too much time away from home and had made one
of his snide comments when she had told him and Harry that she
was going for more training.
"Yeah, as if seven years at Hogwarts and three years of
'special training' -" Here he had made air quotes with his
fingers, irking Hermione even more. "-isn't enough. Now you want
to go and dig up ruddy rune stones or something like that. What's
the matter? Life here with me too boring, is it?"
Hermione had bristled. "You know that isn't it at all, Ron.
This is my career we're talking about. I can't just sit
at home all day and wait for you to come home," she snapped.
Ron's eyes had narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"