Confrontation
Draco and Theo spent the next 24 hours confined to the medical bay under Hermione’s watchful eye. Aditi and Robert stopped by briefly to deliver food pouches, their visits hurried as Elena had kept the rest of the team glued to their terminals. The crew was still working to determine what had caused the alien ship’s door to open and what other changes the energy burst might have triggered.
Unlike the rest of the ship, which simulated day and night cycles, the medical bay’s harsh, sterile lighting remained constant. The unyielding brightness made sleep elusive, leaving all three battling bouts of insomnia. Between Hermione’s medical scans and magical analyses, there was little to occupy their time. After rummaging through a drawer, Hermione unearthed an old deck of cards and took it upon herself to teach Draco and Theo several muggle card games.
So far, neither Draco nor Theo exhibited adverse effects from their exposure to the alien craft. Their enhanced magical strength persisted, showing no signs of waning. Every two hours, Hermione took them through a battery of spells ranging in complexity. To her fascination, the spells flowed with remarkable ease, their incantations unaffected by the usual dampening effects of cosmic radiation. However, several spells displayed peculiar behaviors in the zero-gravity environment.
“Levicorpus”
With a sudden yank, Draco shot through the air, flailing wildly as he spun in random circles by his ankle.
“Wha—FUCK’S SAKE, NOTT, PUT ME DOWN!” Draco bellowed, his voice echoing through the medical bay.
Theo doubled over—or would have, had there been gravity—howling with laughter as he drifted backward from the force of it.
Hermione glanced up from her meticulously documented notes, her wand already raised. Muttering the counter-curse, she bit back a smile as Draco’s flailing subsided.
“Theo,” she said, her tone light but laced with amusement, “I do believe I’ve recorded more than enough variations of this particular spell. Perhaps we could give Malfoy a reprieve.”
Despite the spell’s end, zero gravity had its own rules. Draco, freed from the enchantment, continued his trajectory until he collided, upside down, with the shelves lining the wall. The impact sent medical supplies floating gently into the air.
Draco muttered furiously under his breath as he struggled to right himself, brushing his clothes down as though they were covered in dust. A faint blush crept up his neck as his shoulders heaved from exertion. His scowl deepened when Theo’s laughter only grew louder.
“Yes, Nott, that’s quite enough,” Draco said icily, brushing off the remnants of his dignity. He turned his glare toward Theo but froze when his gaze locked with Hermione’s.
Her eyes had lingered on him just a moment too long, her lips slightly parted.
“Eyes up here, Granger,” Draco said, his voice low and tinged with amusement. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, seemingly involuntary but entirely self-satisfied.
Hermione’s cheeks flared crimson as she realized she’d been caught staring. “I-I… yo—w—” She stumbled over her words, her blush deepening with each failed attempt at recovery.
Theo, who was now laughing so hard he was clutching his side, only made matters worse. Hermione shot him a flustered glare before scrambling for a relevant question. “Did you feel as if you were upside down, or only that you were being dragged, Malfoy?”
Draco’s smirk faded as he narrowed his eyes at Theo, who gave him a cheeky wave. Finally, Draco sighed and turned back to Hermione. “Same as before,” he said curtly. “There was no sense of up or down—only the sensation of being yanked around like a rag doll.”
Hermione’s pen was already moving as she scribbled down his response, her expression back to one of professional focus. Meanwhile, Theo shot Draco a sly grin.
“Yanked around like a rag doll,” Theo repeated, snickering. “Good thing you’ve always been so graceful, Malfoy.”
Draco’s glare promised retribution, but he said nothing, instead settling himself against the wall. Hermione’s lips twitched into a faint smile as she continued her notes, ignoring the palpable tension that lingered in the air.
“It’s stable,” she concluded, glancing up as she lowered her pen, her voice tinged with both relief and awe. “Your cores seem to have been permanently strengthened.”
Theo smirked as he flicked his wand, effortlessly transfiguring a heavy instrument across the room. “Not complaining,” he quipped, his tone light.
Hermione shot him a sharp look. “This isn’t just some curious magical phenomenon, Theo. If the ship can enhance your magic, it might also be able to manipulate it—or worse, harm your cores entirely.”
“Right,” Theo drawled, though his smirk faltered slightly. “Because that’s exactly what I need on my mind while I’m over here magicking things like a bloody prodigy.” He cast a sidelong glance at Draco. “You’re awfully quiet. Don’t tell me you’re not the least bit impressed.”
Draco leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression inscrutable. “The ship did this,” he said evenly. “That’s the part we can’t ignore. If it can strengthen magic, we need to understand why it did so. We need answers.”
Hermione nodded, her expression serious. “Agreed. Let’s focus on the pedestal. Whatever the ship did to you, it likely started there. With any luck, we can pull more information from it.”
Theo arched an eyebrow, lowering his wand as the transfigured instrument floated gently back to the table. “What’s the plan, Granger? Crack open the ship’s library?” He rolled his eyes. “What happens if the pedestal decides it doesn’t like us poking around? What if it does more than just supercharge our magic?”
Draco’s grey eyes narrowed. “Then we deal with it. That’s why we’re here—to figure this out, not to sit around speculating.”
Hermione tapped her pen against her notebook, her gaze thoughtful. “Draco’s right. The pedestal’s reactions aren’t random. They’re deliberate. But let’s not jump to conclusions. If it wanted to harm you, it had plenty of chances when you were on the ship before.”
Theo snorted softly, muttering under his breath, “Oh, sure, gang up on me, why don’t you. Very comforting, Granger. Except for the part where it’s just biding its time for the perfect moment.”
Draco exhaled sharply, irritation flashing across his features. “Enough, Theo. If you’re too afraid to go back, I’ll handle it myself.”
Theo straightened, his usual bravado snapping back into place. “Afraid? Please, Malfoy. You wish.”
“Caution is necessary,” Hermione interjected, her tone firm but measured. “But it can’t paralyze us. We need to think logically and we’ll be able to figure out what this is.”
Draco pushed off the wall, his posture straightening as his expression hardened with resolve. “Then let’s stop wasting time. Prepare for what’s next. We’re not going to solve anything standing here.”
Hermione offered him a small nod, her determination mirroring his. “I’ve contacted the magical team back on Earth. They should report back if they’ve uncovered anything new shortly, we’ll need it before we return to the ship. And,” she added wryly, “I imagine we’ll also need Rodotà to convince Dr. Carter to allow us entry—on our terms.”
As Hermione spoke, her gaze flicked briefly to the notebook resting on the table. The ship’s behavior reminded her of a debate she’d once had with Quince during their research collaboration. Quince had been a staunch advocate of the theory that wizardkind’s origins lay beyond Earth—perhaps that magic was an innate gift brought to the planet by an ancient, extraterrestrial migration, driven by some celestial event. Hermione, ever the skeptic but intrigued, had argued instead that magic might have been catalyzed by external influences—cosmic radiation, or some other otherworldly energy—unlocking latent potential in human evolution over time.
“This resonance,” she murmured, half to herself, “It’s almost as if… the ship recognizes you. Like it’s familiar with magic. Quince might have been onto something.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Quince? That the conspiracy theorist you were always debating with?”
“He wasn’t a conspiracy theorist,” Hermione replied sharply, bristling. “He was exploring possibilities. And if this ship is responding to your magic the way it is, it could suggest that magic’s origins are… larger than we’ve ever imagined.”
Theo’s eyes widened slightly. “So what are you saying? That this ship—or rather whatever’s out there—is the reason we’re magical?”
Hermione hesitated, her gaze steady. “I’m saying it’s worth considering. Whatever the truth is, it’s tied to that pedestal. That’s where we’ll find answers.”
Theo groaned dramatically, tossing his wand onto the table with a loud clink. “Fine. But if that pedestal so much as flickers in a way I don’t like, I’m blaming both of you. And I’ll make sure the magical team back on Earth hears all about it.”
Hermione allowed herself a faint smile. “Noted. Let’s hope it’s more interested in sharing knowledge than causing trouble.”
That afternoon—or so the wall clock claimed, synced dutifully with Central European Time—the trio gathered in the observation lounge. Despite their momentary relief at being granted a few additional hours of freedom by Elena following their observation period, the tension was palpable. The weight of unspoken concerns hung heavily in the air.
Hermione sat at the small table, her pen racing across the enchanted notebook as she communicated with the magical team back on Earth. Her handwriting, usually precise, had grown sharper and more forceful under the weight of urgency. The faint scratching of the quill was the only sound in the room, aside from the omnipresent hum of the Arcanis systems.
The three leaned closer, watching as Quince’s response began to materialize across the page in elegant yet urgent script:
All of the interactions you’ve reported, along with the scans, point to the pedestal as the source of the magic. The magic appears adaptive, recognizing your cores and enhancing them to enable interaction. You must inspect it further but ensure minimal interference from the muggle team. We’re counting on you three. Rodotà will ensure you can explore this untethered.
Draco leaned forward, reading the words as they scrawled themselves across the parchment. His expression remained unreadable as he tapped the notebook lightly with his wand, the faint glow of magic illuminating his fingers.
“Quince is right,” Draco said finally, his tone low and measured. “We can’t involve anyone else—not yet. The ship’s responding to magic, and adding more non-magical interference might provoke it further. They wouldn’t even begin to grasp what we’re dealing with.”
Theo leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his brow furrowed in thought. “Convincing Elena to let us board solo? That’s a trickier spell than anything we’ve cast. She doesn’t trust us as far as she can throw us.” He smirked faintly. “Though, to be fair, I doubt she trusts anyone. Shame Robbie isn’t team lead—he’s much easier to sweet-talk.”
Hermione glanced up from the notebook, her gaze sharp and calculating, deliberately ignoring Theo’s quip. “Rodotà trusts us more than Elena does. He’s pragmatic and willing to take calculated risks if it means results. And, thankfully, he’s fully briefed on the situation. He’ll back us.”
Draco arched an eyebrow, his tone as dry as parchment. “Counting on the chain of command to override her authority? Brilliant. That’ll end splendidly when she finds out.”
“We don’t need her approval,” Hermione countered, her pen pausing midair. “We need her compliance. Rodotà will handle the diplomatic fallout. Our priority is the mission and ensuring everyone makes it through this safely.”
Theo’s smirk widened, and he sat up straighter, his tone teasing. “Your Gryffindor stubbornness is showing, Granger. I find it oddly... reassuring. Don’t stop now.”
Hermione rolled her eyes but pressed on, undeterred. “The plan is straightforward: we emphasize the need to isolate interactions with the pedestal to those it has already responded to. If we present it as a technical and safety concern, Elena won’t have much ground to argue.”
Theo leaned forward, feigning shock, his hand flying to his chest. “No stirring speech? No rallying cry for courage and valor? Just ‘technical and safety issues’? You’re slipping, Granger.”
Draco shot Theo a pointed glance, his tone clipped and unimpressed. “Not everything requires a theatrical flourish, Nott. Some of us are here to solve problems, not entertain you.”
Theo let out an exaggerated sigh, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Ah, but where’s the fun in that?”
Hermione ignored the banter, flipping to a fresh page in the notebook. Her handwriting was deliberate now, each stroke purposeful as she chose her words carefully. “Rodotà understands the stakes better than anyone. Elena may not like it, but if it’s a directive from above, she’ll comply.”
Draco gave a faint nod of approval, his tone dry. “And if that fails?”
Hermione’s eyes flicked to him, her gaze steady and unyielding. “It won’t.”
Theo chuckled softly, leaning forward with a smirk. “That’s the Gryffindor spirit. But Malfoy’s got a point. What’s Plan B if Elena decides to toss a wrench into things?”
Hermione hesitated for the briefest moment before answering. “Then we play to her ego. We position it as her oversight, her chance to manage the mission’s most delicate task. It’s not ideal, but it might work.”
Draco’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, his grey eyes sharp. “Ah, there’s your optimism again, Granger. That’s extremely unlikely to result in anything but stoking her anger—and probably an interrogation for good measure. I’d be shocked if she doesn’t already suspect we’re going over her head. Let’s just hope she doesn’t have her own Plan C.”
Hermione’s chin lifted slightly, her voice brisk. “If she does, we’ll adapt.” She closed the notebook with a decisive snap, the sound cutting through the air. “For now, we let Rodotà handle the initial confrontation. Once he’s established our authority to proceed, we’ll move quickly.”
Theo stretched, his posture languid, though his sharp eyes betrayed his keen interest. “All right, Granger. Lead the charge. Just don’t blame me when Elena looks like she’s about to hex us.”
Draco stood, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve as his expression turned cool and resolute. “She can glare all she likes. We have a job to do. Let’s make sure we’re ready.”
Hermione’s gaze darted to the clock, her tone brisk and efficient. “We’re expected at our stations. Let’s move.”
The trio floated out of the room, using the handholds lining the walls to propel themselves down the corridor with practiced ease.
“You know,” Hermione said, more to herself than to them, “I never thought I’d get used to this. It’s… unsettling. Too much like flying.”
Theo chuckled softly, brushing a hand against the wall to adjust his trajectory. “Flying? Come on, Granger. This isn’t flying—it’s controlled chaos at best. Though,” he added with a teasing grin, “I’ll admit, you’re looking less like a flailing squid these days.”
Hermione shot him a sidelong glance, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite herself. “High praise, especially coming from someone who nearly collided with a bulkhead yesterday.”
“That,” Theo replied smoothly, his grin widening, “was strategic. Testing the ship’s durability. You’re welcome.”
Hermione laughed lightly as Draco, trailing behind, rolled his eyes. “If anything, Nott, you’re proving that even in zero gravity, you can lack coordination. Flying, on the other hand, requires actual skill.”
“Of course you’d say that,” Hermione shot back, arching an eyebrow. “Anything to sing the praises of your precious Quidditch. For the rest of us, this is as close to tolerable as ‘flying’ gets.”
Theo smirked, his tone mock-serious. “Admit it, Granger—you’ve got a cheat sheet hidden somewhere.”
Hermione flushed faintly, narrowing her eyes. “It’s not a cheat sheet. It’s… an efficiency guide. For the team.”
Draco snorted, his smirk growing. “Efficiency. Otherwise known as color-coded notes, and graphs that no one else asked for.”
Theo barked a laugh, clearly reveling in the banter. “I’d bet good money there’s already a Granger-approved protocol for how we’re supposed to interact with the alien ship.”
Hermione glared at him, though the corners of her mouth twitched with amusement. “You’d be lucky if there were. Without it, you’d both be utterly hopeless.”
As they reached their stations, Draco leaned casually against the edge of his console, his voice dry but laced with humor. “Just be sure to leave room for the inevitable. You’ll need a column titled ‘Malfoy saves the day.’”
Draco locked eyes with Hermione, the sharp grey of his gaze holding hers for a moment too long. The corner of his mouth curved into a faint smirk, and before she could muster a retort, he added an almost playful wink. The gesture was quick, fleeting, but undeniably deliberate. Without waiting for a response, he turned back to his monitors, his expression once again composed and indifferent, as though the brief exchange hadn’t happened at all.
Hermione’s breath caught, her fingers pausing mid-air above her console. Her mind scrambled to process the moment, her thoughts tangling in a way that felt both foreign and frustrating. It was absurd—he was Draco Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake—yet the flutter in her chest painted a far more disconcerting picture. The wink replayed in her mind unbidden, and she felt heat creep up her neck and settle in her cheeks.
She ducked her head quickly, feigning a preoccupied focus on her work, though her heart continued to beat an erratic rhythm. How could a single smirk leave her so flustered? Whatever this was, it was becoming harder to ignore.
Taking a steadying breath, Hermione forced herself to tune into the subtle hum that filled the ship, its constancy offering a much-needed anchor. The familiar sound grounded her in the present, a small reprieve from the whirlwind of feelings she didn’t have time to untangle.
But the quiet didn’t last long. Barely a few minutes had passed when the distinct sound of clicks echoed through the room, signaling someone detaching from their seat. Hermione glanced up instinctively, just in time to see Elena gliding toward them. Her movements were sharp, deliberate, each motion exuding precision. Her piercing gaze was locked on Draco and Theo, her expression unreadable, though the intensity in her eyes made Hermione’s stomach tighten with unease.
“Malfoy. Nott. A word,” Elena said curtly, her tone clipped as she motioned for the two wizards to follow her. Hermione’s gaze flickered between Elena and the pair, staying silent as her curiosity burned. Draco and Theo exchanged a brief glance before unbuckling and floating smoothly in her direction.
Hermione shifted slightly in her seat, her focus wavering as she watched them disappear toward the far end of the room. Elena’s demeanor had been as impenetrable as ever, but the sudden request left Hermione wondering what exactly had drawn her attention—and if it had anything to do with the two magical outliers who seemed to attract trouble like moths to a flame.
“I need you both to understand something,” Elena began, her tone sharp and deliberate. “Your entry into the ship last time triggered a cascade of events we still don’t fully comprehend. Energy fluctuations, shield instability, and changes to your… bio-signatures all point to one thing: that ship reacts to you in ways it doesn’t with anyone else.”
Theo raised an eyebrow, his tone light, almost flippant. “You’re welcome.”
Elena’s glare was immediate and cutting, her eyes narrowing until the humor evaporated from Theo’s expression. “This isn’t a joke, Mr. Nott. I’ve decided that neither of you will be allowed back on that ship. The risk of triggering another event is too high.”
Draco’s jaw tightened, his grey eyes flashing with cold defiance. When he spoke, his voice was low and icy, carefully controlled. “With all due respect, Dr. Carter, the ship responds to us because we’re the only ones capable of interacting with it. Locking us out isn’t just a mistake—it’s negligence.”
“A mistake?” Elena snapped, her tone rising in sharp contrast to Draco’s. “A mistake would be letting you risk a catastrophic event. Do you even understand what’s at stake here? You’ve already pushed this mission to the brink once. I’m not letting that happen again.”
Draco leaned back against the wall, his posture deceptively relaxed as he folded his arms over his chest. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Alright then, what’s your plan? You take a team over there with your scanners and hope the ship decides to cooperate? Best of luck with that.”
“Enough,” Elena bit out, her voice slicing through the tension. “This isn’t a debate. You’ve been nothing but secretive since the day you joined this team, sidestepping my authority at every turn. I won’t jeopardize this mission—or the lives of my team—because the three of you managed to pull strings to get here. None of you are setting foot on that ship again. That’s final.”
“What, do you think we bribed our way onto this mission?” Draco’s voice was sharp, his indignation palpable as he turned toward Theo with a muttered, “Merlin, even among muggles, wild accusations follow me everywhere—”
“This,” Elena interjected, her tone rising as she cut him off, “is exactly what I’m talking about. Odd terms, vague explanations, secrecy at every turn, and demanding access to the ship as if you’re entitled to it. This is an alien vessel, and with how you’re responding…for all we know, you’re somehow involved in its appearance—”
“Excuse me?” Hermione’s voice cut through the argument, crisp and tight with anger. She propelled herself toward the group, unable to stay silent any longer as their raised voices carried throughout the room. Her gaze flicked between Elena and the two wizards, her tone brooking no argument as she continued. “What exactly are you implying?”
All three turned to look at her—Elena’s expression hard and unyielding, Draco bristling with indignation, and Theo wearing a faintly amused smirk, as though curious to see how Hermione would handle the situation.
Hermione’s eyes flashed, her voice steady but laced with controlled fury. “I know our backgrounds are classified, but to suggest that we’re somehow involved—when we’ve done nothing but work to ensure this mission’s success—is both baseless and insulting.”
Before Elena could respond, the ship’s comm system crackled to life, cutting through the charged atmosphere. A familiar voice resonated through the cabin: “Attention, team. Please report to your stations. We need to discuss the next boarding.”
Elena exhaled sharply, her glare as cold and unrelenting as steel. “You heard Rodotà,” she snapped, her tone clipped. With a flick of her hand, she dismissed the trio. “Everyone to their stations. Change frequencies to coordinate with the Earth team.”
Without waiting for a reply, Elena propelled herself across the cabin with practiced precision, her sharp commands to the rest of the crew echoing behind her.
Draco muttered something under his breath as he pushed off the wall, his movements tense as he headed for his station. Theo followed suit, flashing Hermione an easy grin, as though the entire confrontation had been nothing more than a passing joke.
Hermione lingered for a moment, her fists clenching at her sides as frustration simmered beneath her composed exterior. Exhaling slowly, she propelled herself back toward her seat. Settling in, she tightened her grip on the console and snapped on her headset, forcing herself to push the argument aside. The mission came first, even if the injustice of Elena’s accusations gnawed at her thoughts.
As the team’s voices filtered through the comms, each member reporting their availability, Hermione’s mind churned with unspoken words. She steadied herself, tuning back into the frequency just as Rodotà’s voice returned, commanding and authoritative.
“Attention, team,” Rodotà began, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Based on our analyses, we’ve determined that Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, and Theo Nott are uniquely qualified to investigate the alien ship further. They will proceed as a specialized team to explore critical areas and attempt further scans. Dr. Carter, your team will continue monitoring from the Arcanis. This decision is final.”
Elena’s protest crackled over the comms. “Rodotà, this is highly irregular—”
Rodotà cut her off, his tone firm and unyielding. “Dr. Carter, I expect your full cooperation. Malfoy, Granger, Nott—prepare to depart. We’d like you to go over immediately.”
Draco exchanged a glance with Hermione, his expression carefully neutral, though his grey eyes hinted at something unreadable. After a brief pause, he pushed off from his console, muttering, “Let’s not keep them waiting.”
Theo let out a low snort as he drifted from his seat with an exaggerated stretch. “Off to certain doom we go!”
Hermione shot him a pointed look, her brow furrowed in irritation. “Theo, this is serious.”
Theo grinned, utterly unfazed. “Oh, I know. That’s why I’m deflecting with humor. Otherwise, I might actually start thinking about what’s waiting for us over there.”
Draco’s voice came dry and sharp. “Some of us are trying to focus, Nott. Save it”
Theo raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin still firmly in place. “Fine, fine. No jokes. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when it gets unbearably tense.”
Draco’s tone shifted, calm and commanding. “Enough. Let’s get to the airlock.”
Elena turned sharply toward the trio, her frustration radiating in palpable waves. Around the cabin, the remaining team members exchanged uneasy glances, the tension thick in the wake of Rodotà’s unexpected command. It was practically unheard of for ground command to override a ship’s captain so directly.
“I’m not sure how you managed to sway him without using the comms system,” Elena bit out, her voice tight and brimming with suspicion. “But I’ll be noting in my report that this decision was made against my judgment. Robert, accompany them to the airlock and ensure all suit and environment checks are completed before departure. Everyone else, begin systems checks and prepare for the away mission.”
The air in the room seemed to grow heavier as Elena’s glare lingered on the trio. Without a word, Robert gestured for them to follow, his expression unreadable. The corridors were quiet, save for the soft hum of the ship’s systems, as they floated toward the airlock in tense silence. None of them spoke, each lost in their own thoughts, until they reached their destination.
“You’re really going through with this,” Robert said finally, his voice low and clipped. “No backup. No contingency. Just the three of you.”
His gaze shifted between them, eventually settling on Theo. “Look,” he began, his tone softening, “we all want the same thing here. I get that your backgrounds are classified, but we all have top secret clearance. What could possibly be so secret in your histories that it justifies withholding critical information? This ship—it’s been altered by something beyond anything we’ve ever seen. Alien technology. That’s not the kind of thing you can just… ignore.”
He hesitated, his hands wringing slightly as his eyes drifted toward the dark void visible through the porthole. “Elena means well. We’ve been together a long time. She’d die to protect us, and we’d do the same for her. This mission—this ship—it’s everything we’ve worked toward. Years of effort, planning, and hope. And now it’s…” His voice trailed off as he stared into the blackness of space, his expression troubled.
Theo exchanged a brief glance with Draco and Hermione before stepping forward and placing a hand on Robert’s arm. The usual levity in his tone was gone, replaced by quiet resolve. “Robbie,” he said, his voice steady, “I promise you, this is the best decision we can make with all the facts on the table. I wish we could explain more, but honestly at this point, it’d only complicate things—for everyone. Believe me, we’ve pushed for certain allowances, but this is bigger than us.”
Robert studied him, his expression torn between suspicion and reluctant trust. “Bigger than us,” he echoed softly, the faintest smile tugging at his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Theo gave a small nod, his grip on Robert’s arm firm. “We’ll do everything in our power to make sure everyone comes back safe. And if it comes down to it…” He hesitated, glancing briefly at Hermione and Draco before continuing, “We’ll break the Statute of Secrecy if we have to. We’re just as committed to this mission as you are.”
Hermione blinked, caught off guard by the weight of Theo’s words and the seriousness etched into his usually playful expression. Surprisingly, she found herself in total agreement with Theo, meeting Robert’s gaze and nodding firmly. “We won’t let you down,” she said quietly. “You’ll be monitoring us the entire time. If anything goes wrong, you’ll be the first to know.”
Robert exhaled heavily, his gaze flicking between the trio. Finally, he nodded, his voice thick with emotion as he spoke. “I trust you. Just… don’t make me regret it. I’ll talk to Elena.”
Theo’s signature grin reappeared, breaking the tension. “Good man. Now, about this suit,” he said, gesturing dramatically to his gear. “Would you mind lending a hand, Robbie? I’d hate to go floating off into space looking anything less than spectacular.”
Robert rolled his eyes, muttering as he followed Theo toward the airlock. “You’re impossible, Nott.”
“Impossible?” Theo shot back, tossing a wink over his shoulder. “I prefer irreplaceable.”
Hermione turned to Draco as they drifted in the corridor, her voice low but probing. “I didn’t realize you both pushed to inform the muggles.”
Draco glanced away as his hand moved absently to fiddle with a clasp on his uniform, his expression calm yet sure. “Of course we did, Granger. This mission is bigger than any one of us—wizard or muggle. The stakes demand transparency.”
He paused, his grey eyes meeting hers, his gaze steady and unreadable. For a moment, it seemed as though he might say more, but instead, he simply turned back toward the airlock, his movements purposeful as he prepared to finish suiting up.
Hermione didn’t respond immediately, her thoughts whirring. She stepped into her suit as she watched as the two men adjusted the final pieces of their own, their expressions set with determination. The gravity of the moment hung between them like a weight, a shared understanding that, whatever lay ahead, there was no turning back.
Hermione glanced between Draco and Theo, her voice steady but underscored with resolve. “Ready?”
Draco nodded, his tone cool and deliberate as his gloved hand brushed over the wand secured at his side. “Let’s get this over with.”
Theo’s grin reappeared, the glint of mischief back in his eyes. “Here’s hoping the ship’s feeling friendly today,” he quipped, though his voice carried a faint edge of unease that only Hermione seemed to notice.
The airlock hissed as it cycled, a low, almost guttural sound that seemed to vibrate through the small chamber. The outer door slid open, revealing the alien ship’s shadowy hallway. The atmosphere seemed to shift instantly, the faint hum of the Arcanis fading into the eerie silence of the unknown vessel.
Hermione took a tentative step forward, her boots landing lightly on the strange metallic floor. The material beneath her feet was cool and unnervingly smooth, its surface faintly reflective in the dim glow emanating from unseen sources.
Draco followed closely, his movements deliberate as his gaze swept the corridor ahead. “Stay sharp,” he murmured through the comms, his voice low but commanding.
The airlock sealed behind them with a hiss as the last of the three stepped onto the alien ship. This time, Hermione felt it—an overwhelming warmth flooding her magical core, a sensation that made her stagger briefly.
“You all right, Granger?” Draco asked, his tone sharper than he intended.
Hermione nodded, her hand clutching her wand. “I felt it. The same pull you described. It’s… powerful.”
Theo brought up the rear, his wand held loosely in one hand, his usual bravado tempered by the palpable tension in the air. “Well, at least it’s consistent,” he muttered, his tone laced with dry humor. “Creepy as hell, but consistent.”
The trio moved deeper into the hallway, their steps careful, the vast unknown pressing in around them. The walls seemed to shift subtly as they walked, patterns of light and shadow rippling across the surface in ways that defied logic. Each breath, each motion, felt amplified in the stillness, as though the ship itself was watching, waiting.
“Something’s different,” Draco said suddenly, his tone sharp. His gaze flickered toward Hermione, then to Theo. “The energy—it feels stronger.”
Hermione nodded, her grip tightening on her wand as a chill crept down her spine. “Stay together. No assumptions. If the ship reacts again—”
Suddenly, something behind them shifted with a deep, metallic groan, followed by a reverberating clang that echoed through the hallway. The sound was final, like a door slamming shut. A tense silence followed, broken only by the faint hum of the ship.
Hermione’s heart raced as she called into her comm. “Arcanis, do you copy?” Her voice wavered slightly, thick with the unease of a fear coming true. Static crackled in her earpiece, but no response came.
She tried again, louder this time. “Arcanis, come in!” Still nothing.
Draco’s jaw tightened, his expression darkening as he glanced back at the now-sealed passage behind them. “We’re on our own,” he said grimly, his voice low and controlled, but there was no mistaking the tension beneath it.
The trio drifted into the central chamber, its vast expanse both awe-inspiring and unnerving. The pedestal in the center hummed softly, its vibrations resonating in their chests as they approached. Patterns of light rippled across its surface, shifting and swirling before leaping into the air. Star charts materialized, their brilliance illuminating the chamber in soft, otherworldly hues. The maps depicted galaxies unknown to humanity, their constellations unfamiliar and breathtakingly vast. Interwoven among the stars were intricate magical sigils, their designs impossibly complex, pulsing faintly as though alive.
Hermione froze, her eyes wide as she took in the ethereal display. Her breath caught. “Arithmancy,” she whispered, her voice reverent. “These are equations—magical and mathematical. But…” She trailed off, leaning closer. “I don’t recognize all of them. It’s like a language I’ve never seen before.”
Draco stepped forward toward the pedestal, his wand at the ready as he voicelessly cast several spells to analyze the text that had appeared. The sigils reflected in his grey eyes, their patterns mirrored in his expression—a mixture of fascination and wariness. “It’s not just giving us knowledge,” he said, his tone low and steady as he looked down at the screen. “It’s a message.”
Theo paced along the perimeter of the chamber, his gaze darting to the walls, which shimmered faintly as if reacting to the energy in the room. “The ship’s trying to tell us something,” he mused, his usual levity replaced by genuine curiosity. “But how do we answer?”
Hermione’s brow furrowed in concentration as she raised her wand, her movements precise and deliberate. “Let’s try something,” she murmured, her voice steady with resolve. With a flick of her wrist, she cast a translation spell, the incantation ringing clear in the chamber. The magic collided with the pedestal’s surface, only to fizzle out almost instantly. The dissipating energy shimmered faintly, echoing through the room like a sigh before vanishing into the air.
Her shoulders tensed, the flicker of frustration in her eyes unmistakable. Refusing to yield, she quickly muttered another spell, her wand slicing through the air with practiced grace. The result was the same—a faint shimmer, then nothing. Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t pause. Another spell followed, then another, each more complex than the last.
Draco stepped back, silently allowing her the space to work. His gaze shifted to her face, the sharp lines of concentration etched gracefully into her features. The faint glow from the pedestal reflected in her eyes, highlighting the intensity behind them, a mixture of determination and a tinge of uncertainty she rarely allowed anyone to see. It was quite a sight to see—Hermione Granger in her element. The next few minutes passed slowly as he watched her fire a number of spells repeatedly at the pedestal.
“Nothing works,” she said as she lowered her wand, more to herself than the others. “It’s like it’s… beyond us.”
His own attention drifted back to the pedestal. Its surface rippled faintly, the light weaving across it in rhythmic patterns. Draco’s eyes narrowed, drawn to the edges of the pedestal where the light seemed to deepen in intensity. He drifted closer, his focus honing in on the patterns that swirled just beneath its surface, like molten threads of energy shifting in intricate, deliberate pathways.
The more he looked, the more the patterns seemed to take shape—not random, but purposeful. Sigils melted into geometric forms, which then folded into something even more elaborate. Interlocking symbols began to emerge, some distinctly magical, others entirely foreign. They pulsed faintly, almost as though reacting to his presence.
“Granger,” Draco said softly, his voice cutting through her muttered thinking. Hermione stopped, glancing at him with furrowed brows, her frustration evident.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice clipped but not unkind.
Draco gestured toward the pedestal, stepping aside to give her a clearer view. “Look here, at the edges. The patterns—they’re changing.”
Hermione’s gaze shifted to where he pointed. She stepped closer, her expression shifting from frustration to fascination as she took in the pulsing symbols. The energy danced across the surface like a living entity, almost hypnotic in its fluidity.
“It’s like it’s… unfolding,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. Her hand hovered instinctively over the glowing symbols, but she pulled back at the last moment, her fingers curling into a fist. “It’s reacting, but not to magic. At least, not in the way we’re used to.”
Draco tilted his head, studying the pedestal with renewed intensity. “It’s reacting to us. It was dormant before we arrived, and now it’s like it’s waking up.”
Hermione nodded slowly, her mind racing as she pieced the fragments together. “But why? And what’s it trying to show us?”
The patterns shifted again, this time elongating into a sequence of symbols that hovered in mid-air. The room seemed to dim slightly, the pedestal’s glow intensifying as the symbols rotated, aligning themselves with the star maps above.
“What do you see?” Hermione asked quietly, her voice tinged with awe.
Draco’s grey eyes narrowed as he studied the display. “Coordinates,” he said after a moment, his voice steady but laced with intrigue. “And…” He trailed off, his expression darkening slightly. “Runes. Old ones. I recognize some from the Malfoy library. But the others… they’re different. Like they don’t belong.”
Hermione stepped closer, her breath hitching as she took in the sight. “A hybrid language,” she whispered. “It’s blending magical and… something else entirely.”
Theo’s voice broke the spell of their discovery. “Great. So the ship’s not just showing off then.” He drifted closer, his grin faint but tempered by genuine curiosity. “Any guesses on how we can decipher it quickly?”
“I wonder…” Hermione murmured, almost to herself, her voice steady but tinged with curiosity. Raising her wand, she moved with deliberate precision, each stroke in the air drawing a shimmering thread of light. An intricate web began to form, expanding slowly before her. The room seemed to hold its breath as she worked, her teeth pressing into her lower lip in concentration, her movements fluid and purposeful.
The web glimmered with an otherworldly light, casting dancing shadows across the chamber as it began to envelop the pedestal. Hermione’s voice grew stronger as she chanted, her tone resonating with power.
“Patefacio Cognitionem… Patefacio Mentem… Patefacio Ex Tenebris Scientiam…”
The lights in the room pulsed with each invocation, growing brighter and brighter, their intensity pressing against the walls as though the ship itself was reacting. The air became charged, thick with an unidentifiable energy that seemed to thrum in their very bones.
“Granger…” Theo’s voice broke the tension, tinged with awe and unease as he glanced toward Draco. “I’ve never seen this before. This spell—it’s… I’ve heard of research groups attempting it together, but never alone. It’s incredibly advanced. Dangerous even. If it goes wrong, she could overload her magic—”
Draco’s expression tightened, his grey eyes snapping to Hermione, widening in alarm. “Granger, stop!” His voice rose with urgency. “This is dangerous—we should have cast it together! You could—”
“Patefacio et Asorbeo.” Hermione’s final chant cut through his warning, her voice ringing with sharp clarity.
The shimmering web of light jolted forward, stretching taut over the pedestal like a net. The intricate structure pulsed violently before collapsing into the object, disappearing entirely. The room went still for a fraction of a second, a moment of unnatural calm, before the pedestal erupted with a blinding sphere of light. The burst filled the chamber, and the force of it rushed toward Hermione like a tidal wave.
She instinctively raised a shield, the protective barrier forming in front of her, but the light tore through it as though it were paper, piercing her chest with a searing intensity.
“Hermione!” Draco’s shout reverberated through the chamber, raw with panic. His wand snapped upward, unleashing a flurry of defensive spells as he propelled himself toward her, the magic crackling violently in the air around him. The ship groaned under the strain, the lights flickering wildly as Theo moved in tandem, conjuring layered shields that encased them in a protective cocoon.
A soft “Oh…” escaped Hermione’s lips as her body crumpled, her knees buckling as the light faded from her eyes. She drifted weightlessly in the air, her unconscious form limp as Draco reached for her. His movements, hindered by the bulk of his suit, were clumsy, and his first attempt to grab her only pushed her further out of reach. Cursing under his breath, he surged forward again, his heart pounding in his chest as he finally managed to pull her back within the protective barrier.
The pedestal’s glow faltered, its brilliance dimming until it vanished entirely. The ship shuddered one final time, then fell silent. The hum of its energy faded, replaced by an eerie stillness. The faint, ambient glow that had suffused the walls was gone, leaving the chamber bathed in cold darkness.
The comms crackled back to life with a burst of static, but no voices came through. Draco’s mind raced as he clutched Hermione’s unresponsive form, his fingers tightening on her suit as if sheer force of will could bring her back.
“The ship…” Theo’s voice broke through the silence, quieter than usual, edged with disbelief. “It’s… dead. All of it. Whatever was powering this place—whatever life it had—it’s gone.”
Draco barely registered Theo’s words. His focus was entirely on Hermione, his voice low and desperate as he whispered, “Come on, Granger. Don’t do this. Wake up.”
The weight of Theo’s statement settled heavily in the room. The ship was nothing more than a lifeless husk now, a hollow shell of metal adrift in the void. Whatever energy it had drawn from Hermione—or whatever it had given her in return—seemed to have extinguished the spark that had animated it.
And in that moment, Draco couldn’t shake the sickening feeling that the ship’s final act might have taken Hermione with it.
“Theo…” Draco’s voice cracked, raw with emotion as he turned his head, his expression unguarded in a way Theo had rarely seen. “We need to get her back. Now.”
The urgency in his words seemed to jolt Theo into action, snapping him out of the frozen moment. Just as he started to move, their comms suddenly burst to life, the layered voices of the Arcanis team flooding their ears in panicked succession.
“Away team, do you copy? Respond!”
“Status! Granger—what’s your status? We’ve lost your signal!”
“Theo, are you receiving me? Malfoy? Anybody, respond now!”
Draco didn’t acknowledge the calls, his focus entirely on Hermione as he muttered diagnostic spells under his breath, his wand moving in rapid, precise motions over her motionless form. His pale face was drawn tight, grey eyes blazing with worry as if willing the magic to work faster.
Theo glanced around, his chest tightening at the sight of the darkened, lifeless ship around them. Steeling himself, he dropped the protective shields with a wave of his wand and activated his comms.
“Arcanis, this is Theo,” he said, his voice deceptively calm despite the tremor in his hands as he levitated Hermione’s still form between them. “Hermione’s down. We’re bringing her back—prepare medical.”
“Copy that,” came Elena’s sharp response. “Get her here as soon as possible. We’ll be ready.”
Draco’s jaw clenched as he pushed forward, his movements sharp and deliberate, his wand tracing over Hermione’s form again and again. His voice, usually so composed, was tight and edged with desperation. “Keep her steady,” he snapped at Theo, his hands trembling as he tried to stabilize his spells.
Theo didn’t argue, his focus unwavering as he adjusted the levitation charm, ensuring Hermione’s body floated seamlessly between them. His usual levity was gone, replaced by a grim determination.
“To hell with the Statute,” Theo said suddenly. His tone was firm, as though daring anyone to contradict him.
Draco’s head shot up at the words, their eyes locking for a brief moment. Theo’s statement hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken agreements and shared defiance. Draco gave him a curt nod, his jaw tightening further before he turned his attention back to Hermione.
As the two worked their way toward the airlock, the cold, sterile expanse of the alien ship pressed in around them. The faint echo of their movements seemed to mock their haste, each step closer to the Arcanis feeling both too slow and too fast. Hermione’s floating form was a stark reminder of the fragility of the moment, her stillness a haunting contrast to their urgent motions.
Draco’s voice broke the silence, low and unyielding. “She’s not staying like this.”
“Damn right,” Theo replied, his tone tight but resolute. “We’ll get her back.”