Illumination
The faint golden glow of diagnostic runes illuminated Hermione’s pale face, casting sharp shadows that seemed to accentuate lines of exhaustion beneath her eyes. The team floated in a loose circle around her, their movements subdued, each one anchored by ceiling holds or railings as if bracing themselves for the weight of what she was about to say. The medical bay had fallen into a tense, heavy silence; the low hum of the ship’s systems the only sound breaking through.
Hermione’s hands rested in her lap, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she stared down at them. The calm tone she’d used to summon them earlier belied the storm brewing within her. There was a faint, almost imperceptible tickle in the back of her mind—an awareness of Theo’s restless curiosity and Draco’s wary, tightly controlled apprehension. They were waiting, on edge, and their emotions hummed faintly at the edges of her consciousness. She inhaled slowly, forcing herself to focus. When she finally raised her gaze, it was steady, her voice soft yet carrying the unmistakable weight of what she was about to reveal.
“I’ve been able to piece together most of the information I accessed from the ship,” she began, her tone measured, though a faint tremor lingered beneath the surface. “It’s… overwhelming, to say the least, but there are a few things I can confirm.”
Theo, ever the first to break a moment of stillness, raised an eyebrow as he stretched a hand lazily toward one of the overhead holds. His tone was light, but the sharpness in his gaze betrayed his unease. “Here we go,” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “What secrets have you uncovered this time, Granger?”
Hermione’s lips twitched, a ghost of a reaction, before she straightened her shoulders and continued. “First, the ship wasn’t abandoned. It was sent here deliberately—by a species that’s… well, humanoid.”
She paused, her gaze flickering across the group as if gauging their readiness to hear more. Her awareness brushed against Draco again, an undercurrent of tension humming from him. “They discovered this ship adrift in space, preserved it, and repaired it. But they didn’t stop there. They bonded with it—biologically, magically. They altered it in ways I can’t fully comprehend how yet, but what I do know is that the ship wasn’t just a vessel. It was… alive.”
Robert’s brow furrowed as he tilted his head, the scientist in him already turning the information over. His voice was thoughtful, tinged with a mix of awe and skepticism. “Bonded with it? Biologically? Are you saying they integrated themselves into its systems?”
“In a sense, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Hermione replied, her brow knitting as she searched for the right words to articulate the complexities of what she had seen. “The ship’s systems were adapted to sustain living microorganisms, a kind of life form that can merge with technology, among other things. That’s part of what made it unique. It wasn’t just a tool—it was an extension of a biological form.”
Aditi’s eyes gleamed with curiosity as she leaned forward, gripping the nearest rail. “You’re saying their biology became their technology? If we could study that—”
“We might be able to, eventually,” Hermione interrupted gently, her voice tinged with caution. “But—”
Before she could finish, Theo’s voice cut through, sharper now. “ ‘ Was’ alive?” he repeated, his tone losing its usual playfulness. His brows drew together as he folded his arms tightly, his relaxed posture stiffening. Suspicion flickered in his eyes, and Hermione could feel his growing apprehension, sharp and probing. The faint edge of unease radiating from him was almost tangible, pressing against the back of her mind.
Hermione’s breath caught. She shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flickering away from Theo as she braced herself. “Yes, was.” she admitted quietly. “The microorganisms have… abandoned the ship.”
The group exchanged uneasy glances, their thoughts no doubt drawn back to the power failure during their last visit to the ship, the changes they’d experienced with their magic. Hermione felt the emotions from Draco and Theo shifting, hardening into something heavier—an intense mix of unease and dread. It bore down on her like a weight, forcing her to continue.
“They’re perfectly safe, from what I’ve gathered,” she said quickly, her words tumbling out now. “We’ve been living alongside a devolved version of their species for generations without incident. They’ve adapted to Earth’s environment—”
“Granger.” Draco’s voice sliced through her hurried explanation like a blade, low and sharp, arresting the room’s attention. It was a tone that allowed no interruptions, brooked no evasion. Every head turned toward him as his piercing grey eyes locked onto hers, their intensity pinning her in place. She felt his emotions as clearly as her own—dangerous, tightly coiled, and simmering with fear just below the surface.
“Where. Have. They. Gone?” he demanded, his words slow and deliberate, as though daring her to deny the conclusion that was already forming in his mind. Despite the steel in his voice, Hermione could sense the thread of desperation beneath it—a plea he would never voice aloud. It twisted something deep in her chest, his emotions brushing against hers and leaving her throat dry.
Hermione’s pulse quickened, and her breath hitched. For a moment, the question seemed to reverberate through the room, charging the air with an almost unbearable tension. She opened her mouth, but no words came. For once, Hermione Granger—the brilliant, unshakable witch who always had the answer—scrambled for what to say. She could feel the heavy weight of Draco’s gaze, as well as his fear, unsettling her, but also anchoring her. She couldn’t falter now, not when the answers mattered so much.
“Draco… everyone,” she began, her voice trembling but gaining strength with each word, “we’ve discovered the root cause of magic.”
A heavy silence fell over the room as Hermione’s words sank in. All eyes locked onto her, a mixture of confusion, skepticism, and dawning realization flickering across their faces. She could feel their emotions pressing against her awareness— a sharp pang of guarded curiosity from Theo, and from Draco, a simmering tension that felt like a coiled spring. Hermione took another breath, steadying herself.
“Magic isn’t what we’ve always believed it to be,” she said, her voice steady but quiet. “It’s not just an innate ability or a gift we’re born with. It’s alive.”
Aditi, who had been furiously jotting notes on her pad, froze mid-motion. Her pen hovered above the screen as her head shot up, her sharp gaze pinning Hermione in place. “Alive?” she echoed, her voice clipped and brimming with intrigue. The intensity of her focus flared so brightly that Hermione could sense it almost tangibly, a sharp spike of interest cutting through the room’s tension.
Hermione nodded, her gaze flicking between her team members, her tone deliberate and measured. “Magic, as we know it, is a result of an organism. It exists on a cellular level, binding to certain species that have achieved a specific molecular evolution—humans included. It thrives by feeding on particular byproducts of our metabolism, like reactive oxygen species and advanced glycation end products. In return, it extends our life and enhances the host’s abilities, allowing us to perform what we call magic.”
Theo let out a low whistle, leaning back slightly, his arms draping over the rail behind him. The emotions emanating from him shifted—curiosity beginning to outweigh his earlier apprehension. “So we aren’t magic. You’re saying we’re walking around with magic we borrow from some sort of…?” His tone was light, though the faint edge of confusion hadn’t entirely faded.
“A symbiotic partner,” Hermione corrected firmly, her voice softening as she locked eyes with him. “It is our magic, we control it, it just…” She fell off as she struggled to explain a concept she barely understood herself. “It doesn’t harm us. In fact, it enhances us. The magical core we’ve always thought of as an internal wellspring? That’s actually a byproduct of the organism’s metabolic processes. It accumulates in our cells over time, enabling us to perform magic.”
Draco’s grey eyes narrowed, his posture rigid as he folded his arms across his chest. His voice, low and deliberate, carried a razor-sharp skepticism. “So we’re… hosts,” he said slowly, drawing out the word like he was testing its weight. “To some kind of magical parasite?”
Hermione turned to him, meeting his penetrating gaze. The emotions she sensed from him were difficult to untangle—an undercurrent of wariness mixed with a flicker of something more vulnerable, a deeply buried unease he kept tightly controlled.
“Not a parasite,” she said sharply, holding his gaze. “Symbiosis is a partnership. Parasites take without giving back, but this organism thrives with us—not at our expense. We’ve co-evolved alongside it for hundreds of years—other species even longer.”
Draco’s expression didn’t waver, but she could sense his emotions shift again, settling into a guarded tension. He didn’t reply immediately, but his silence carried its own weight, pressing heavily against her words as though testing their integrity. The others exchanged glances, but no one spoke, the gravity of the revelation hanging between them like a charged current.
Robert, who had been listening with crossed arms and a deeply furrowed brow, tilted his head slightly, his expression contemplative. “Theo, you mentioned your magical boarding school doesn’t start until 11 because, before that, magic can appear randomly. This explains why magic doesn’t manifest at birth, doesn’t it? It takes time for this… organism to establish itself in a host.”
Theo blinked, as though pulled from his own swirling thoughts. He barely registered the question before offering Robert a distracted nod, his mouth slightly agape as his gaze shifted back to Hermione. “Uh… yeah, Robbie. That tracks,” he said finally, though his voice was uncharacteristically subdued.
Hermione nodded, picking up the thread seamlessly. “Exactly,” she said, her voice steady but filled with quiet conviction. “And it explains a lot more than that. Muggle-borns likely have a genetic anomaly that makes them compatible with the organism, even without magical ancestry. Squibs, on the other hand, inherit magical lineage but lack the specific genetic compatibility required for the organism to bond with them.”
The room descended into stunned silence, the weight of Hermione’s revelation pressing down on each of them. She didn’t even need the empathic link to sense the shifting emotions around her—Aditi’s sharp, buzzing curiosity crackled like static in the air, eager and relentless; Robert’s careful, methodical contemplation unfolded in precise, measured layers, his mind piecing together connections with meticulous focus. Theo’s lingering mix of awe and wariness rippled beneath the surface like an unsteady current. Draco’s presence was harder to parse, a tightly controlled blend of skepticism and something she couldn’t quite define, though it tugged faintly at the edges of her awareness. Elena, however, radiated a cold, analytical intensity, her thoughts clearly racing to force this revelation into a framework she could control. Simon’s reaction was less contained—raw disbelief radiated off him, tinged with an apprehension that seemed to grow with every passing second, as though she had shattered not only his understanding of their mission but the very foundations of reality. Then again, she supposed, she had. Especially considering he was still coming to terms with the existence of magic.
It was Aditi who broke the silence first, her voice a mix of awe and scientific fascination. “You’re saying this organism—this magic—has been living alongside us for thousands of years?”
“Yes,” Hermione replied simply, her tone measured. “And it’s not unique to Earth. The ship’s data suggests that these organisms exist throughout the galaxy. They were brought accidentally to Earth millennia ago by a species conducting research—possibly the same ones who altered this ship, though that still isn’t clear. That’s how humans first encountered them.”
Robert’s expression grew even more contemplative, his brow furrowing deeply as he tilted his head. “And the ship,” he asked, his voice slow and deliberate as he sought to confirm once again what she had said. “It was somehow also connected in this way to these organisms.”
Hermione’s gaze flicked toward him, with a brief nod of her head, croaking out a small, “Yes.”
The group exchanged uneasy glances, the enormity of Hermione’s words finally beginning to sink in.
“So, not only are we carrying some ancient alien hitchhiker in our cells, but they’ve also been hitching rides across the galaxy in sentient ships?” Theo asked, his tone teetering between humor and disbelief, though Hermione could sense the lingering tension beneath his quip.
“It’s not a hitchhiker, Theo,” Hermione replied, her voice measured but tinged with a note of exasperation. “It’s a symbiosis that has shaped the very foundation of our species—our abilities, our culture, our history. And this ship… it’s part of that story.”
Draco’s voice cut through the conversation, sharp and cold, but Hermione could sense the undercurrent of desperation and fear rippling through their connection. “And where does that leave us now, Granger?” he asked, his tone controlled but laced with tension. “What’s the ship trying to tell us? Why did it react to us the way it did?” His grey eyes narrowed, his voice dropping lower, quieter, yet no less biting. “You were unconscious for hours—you nearly died. That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in a peaceable resolution.”
Hermione turned toward him, frustration flickering across her face. “That was an accident, Draco. My own fault—” She broke off abruptly, the gravity of the truth she was about to share pressing down on her. Her expression shifted, becoming somber as she met his gaze. “They came here for assistance,” she said quietly, her voice steady but heavy with the weight of her words. “The humanoids need us. Or rather… our assistance. Their planet is dying.”
Elena’s mouth dropped open slightly, but no sound came out as her mind worked to process the implications. Theo frowned deeply, the furrow in his brow deepening as his fingers drummed absently against his crossed arms. Hermione could sense his thoughts spiraling—calculating, analyzing—but it was Robert who finally broke the silence. His tone turned serious, his words slow and deliberate as he considered the possibilities.
“Dying? How?” he asked, leaning forward, his hands gripping the rail tightly, his usual levity completely absent.
Hermione inhaled deeply, steadying herself before explaining. “From what I’ve gathered, their planet suffered a catastrophic breakdown of its atmosphere. They have little to no natural protection from cosmic radiation anymore and the ship’s data suggests their planet’s magnetic field is severely weakened. ” She paused, her voice softening. “They’re running out of time.”
Draco’s sharp features tightened, his jaw setting as he processed her words. “So they sent this ship here… as what? What do they expect us to do?” She could feel his exasperation as he spoke.
Hermione shook her head. “Not just here,” she said firmly. “They sent out multiple ships, salvaged from various species where this microorganism existed. They’ve been searching for planets where the organism already thrives because they believed it was their best chance of survival. They assumed that planets hosting compatible life forms, like us, would also host species capable of understanding their plight.”
Robert’s brow furrowed deeply as he scratched his chin, his thoughts turning. “Wait, back up.” he said slowly. “Do they think we can… talk to them?”
“Yes, in a way,” Hermione replied. “They’re an empathic species and can communicate with each other via thought. Over time, they realized they could communicate with the organism as well. They seem to have assumed that other species compatible with the organisms would have evolved a similar skill.”
Aditi leaned forward, her curiosity burning brightly. “Do you think they’ve been trying to communicate with us this whole time?”
Hermione nodded, her voice steady but thoughtful. “It’s possible. Think about the way the ship reacted when Draco, Theo, and I first boarded. It wasn’t just reacting to us—it was responding to our magic. The organisms aboard the ship were connecting to their counterparts inside us. But the organisms on the ship are different. They’ve been influenced by their bond with this species for hundreds—possibly thousands—of years longer than they’ve existed here on Earth. They’ve evolved differently. When they bonded with us, I believe we inherited a faint echo of their telepathic ability, which is why we’ve been able to sense each other’s feelings.”
Draco’s gaze sharpened at her words, his posture stiffening slightly, though his expression remained carefully neutral. Hermione could sense his unease, tightly controlled but undeniably present. Theo, meanwhile, glanced between the two of them, his face unusually pensive as he absorbed this.
“And the enhanced magic?” Draco finally asked, his voice low but weighted. “The way our spells have become stronger—that’s part of it too, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Hermione replied softly, her tone calm but deliberate. “The organisms inside us have grown alongside humanity’s biology, but their evolution was slower here, or different at least. When we came into contact with the ship, it triggered a reaction. That’s why our magic feels different. Stronger. We’re connected to something far older, far more evolved.”
Elena exhaled sharply, the sound cutting through the tense atmosphere like a blade. “They’re not just asking for help,” she said, her voice brisk. “They’re asking to live here. They want a planet that can house them—like refugees.”
Hermione nodded, her expression solemn, her voice quiet but resolute. “Exactly. They’re desperate, but they’re not invaders. Everything I’ve learned suggests that they’re an extremely empathetic species. They didn’t just leave their planet without care or consideration. They’ve been searching for places where they could coexist, where they wouldn’t harm the life already there.”
Simon, who had been listening in silence, shifted uncomfortably, his hands falling from his crossed arms. His brow furrowed deeply as he spoke, his tone measured but tinged with unease. “And they think we’ll understand their plight because of this… connection. But not everyone has it, what happens if we can’t help them? What if Earth can’t sustain them? We don’t even know how to communicate with them!”
Hermione hesitated, her gaze flicking briefly between Draco and Theo, as though drawing strength from their presence. The faint hum of their emotions brushed against hers—Draco’s tension, tightly controlled but steadying, and Theo’s quiet curiosity, edged with concern. Her voice, when it came, was soft but carried the weight of the revelation she had been holding back.
“They already know Earth can sustain them,” she said, her words deliberate, each syllable weighted with certainty. “When the organisms bonded with Draco, Theo, and me, they gained access to everything we know—our knowledge, our memories, our understanding of this planet.”
Draco’s posture stiffened further at her words, his grey eyes narrowing, sharp and unrelenting. “You’re saying they… read our minds?” he asked, his voice low and clipped, carrying a distinct edge of suspicion. The tension in his tone made it clear he was upset at the perceived violation.
“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Hermione replied quickly, her tone steady but with a calming edge, though she could feel the tension rolling off him like waves. “They didn’t mean for it to be invasive. For them, full telepathic connections are normal. Our concepts of private thoughts and autonomy don’t exist in the same way for them. Once they had gathered the information they needed, they instructed the organisms to simply return.” She paused, her voice softening. “Think of it more like… the organisms shared their consciousness with ours, forming a bridge. They learned everything they needed about Earth because of this bridge. And then they left to confirm it.”
Draco’s eyes remained fixed on hers, his expression unreadable, though Hermione felt faint ripples of unease and fear from both him and Theo. Simon looked away, his fingers tapping absently against his thigh as he absorbed her words, his thoughts tangled. Elena remained silent, her calculating gaze locked on Hermione, clearly trying to decide how to process what she had just heard.
Simon’s frown deepened, his voice cutting through the silence as he spoke, slow and desperate. “What did they confirm?” he asked, needing to plainly state the question in hopes that something—anything—had been misunderstood.
“That Earth is viable,” Hermione said, her tone firm but quiet. “Their homeworld is much smaller than ours. And with the number of natural disasters they’ve faced, their population has been devastated—only about 500,000 remain. Most of the organisms on the ship bonded with Draco, Theo, and me, and the moment they confirmed Earth was suitable, the rest left to share the news.”
Theo’s eyes widened, his earlier tension giving way to outright disbelief. “They left? But the ship hasn’t moved.”
Hermione exhaled, her voice tinged with awe and frustration at the limits of her own understanding. “It was almost like… intergalactic apparition. I don’t fully understand how it works yet. From what I can tell, it’s somewhat similar to the Patronus Charm and our apparition—but on an incomprehensibly advanced scale. They didn’t need the ship to travel back. They just… went. It’s likely the same method that brought the ship here so quickly. And it explains why the initial energy signatures detected on its arrival resembled the magic we use to summon Patronuses.”
Elena’s expression darkened, her focus sharpening as she moved forward, the authority in her voice cutting through the tension. “And what does that mean for us, Ms. Granger?”
Hermione hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking, her voice trembling slightly as she delivered the truth. “Now that they’ve confirmed Earth is safe, they’re bringing the rest of their population. It will take them time—they’re traveling with their entire species, their families, and everything they’ve salvaged from their planet. But they’re on their way. They’ll be here within six months.”
The silence that followed Hermione’s words was deafening. The weight of her statement hung heavily in the air, pressing down on the room like a physical force. Robert ran a hand through his hair, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and unease. Aditi stared blankly at Hermione, her mouth opening as if to speak but closing again, her usually sharp demeanor subdued, unable to form the words. Elena, uncharacteristically, seemed to falter, her usual commanding presence shrinking slightly under the enormity of what she’d just heard.
Finally, it was Draco who broke the silence, his voice quieter than expected.
“Six months,” he murmured, more to himself than to the room. He lifted his gaze, grey eyes locking onto hers, their intensity softened by a thread of unease. “And what do they expect from us, Granger? To just open the doors and let them in? Like we don’t have our own problems?”
Hermione exhaled slowly, her tone sharp and steady as she held his gaze. “They’re not asking for handouts, Draco—they’re looking for a chance to survive. They believe we can understand them because of what we share. They chose Earth because of what they sensed in us—the organisms, the magic, the potential for understanding.”
Draco leaned back slightly, his tension still evident in the rigid set of his shoulders. “We’ve just come through a war over blood status,” he said, his voice low and edged with scepticism. “And now we’re supposed to unite with the muggle world in six months? You know, the muggle prime minister had aligned with You-Know-Who—we’ll be facing resistance from both sides. Do you really think we can convince everyone, let alone in just a few months?”
Hermione squared her shoulders, her voice resolute despite the turmoil swirling inside her. “I think we have to try. If we don’t, no one else will. And it will mean the death of an entire civilization.”
Theo let out a low whistle, dragging a hand through his hair and leaning back. “Bloody hell. We’ll have to reveal magic and aliens at the same time. That’s going to go well.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Hermione replied, her voice firmer now, her tone brooking no argument. “If we wait, we risk mass panic when they arrive unannounced. The world’s governments need time to prepare, to understand what’s coming and what it means. Ensure a united peaceful front upon their arrival.”
Robert crossed his arms, his brow furrowed deeply. “How are they supposed to understand, Hermione?” he asked, his voice low but insistent. “You’re asking us to reveal not one, but two truths that will shatter everything people believe about reality.”
Simon nodded slowly, his expression caught between awe and disbelief. “I’ve always believed in life out there,” he said quietly. “But I never could have predicted this. And as for magic… I’ve seen you perform it, and I still don’t know how to believe it. I don’t know how we’ll ever make the world understand.”
Hermione met his gaze, her tone steady, her expression resolute. “They’ll understand because we’ll make them. This isn’t just about humanity—it’s about an entire other species trying to survive. If we explain their plight, if we show that they mean no harm, we can help them. But we need to act now.”
Draco’s jaw tightened, his grey eyes narrowing as frustration flashed across his face. “And if the governments don’t listen?” he asked, his voice low and sharp. “If they see this as a threat instead of a plea for help?”
Hermione’s voice softened, though the determination in her eyes didn’t waver. “Then we do what we’ve always done—we fight for what’s right.”
Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Ah yes, Granger. Fighting for what’s right. That’s exactly what I’m known for, isn’t it? Merlin, if I’m anywhere near this, it’s bound for disaster. I—”
“Draco.” Hermione cut him off sharply, her tone brisk, nearly forgetting the audience still surrounding them. “You were a right foul git most of my life. But when it mattered most, when it came down to it, you did what was right—even if you did it in the most prattish way possible.”
Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione raised a hand, silencing him with a glare, willing him to feel the sincerity in her words through their strange, empathic connection.
“Fourth year, the Quidditch World Cup. You warned me to get away—”
Draco let out a derisive scoff, cutting her off. “Granger, I insulted you. Please, what kind of warning do you think—”
“Don’t play stupid, Malfoy,” Hermione interjected, her eyes narrowing. “Yes, you threw your blood slurs and insults around. But you sought us out in the first place, didn’t you?”
He clamped his mouth shut, his gaze dropping as though trying to avoid her pointed stare.
“You could have called out,” she pressed, her tone gentler now, though no less insistent. “You could have alerted the Death Eaters, brought your father straight to us. But you didn’t. And even when Harry and Ron were getting caught up in the row, you called attention back to my blood status, reminded them what it would mean for me if I were caught. You told them to get me out.” Hermione’s voice softened further as she tried to catch his eyes again, but Draco resolutely avoided her gaze.
“Second year,” Hermione continued, her voice steady despite the charged atmosphere. “I didn’t recognize the handwriting until later, but I know it was you who slipped that page into my bag to warn me about the plumbing. How Harry and Ron thought I was the one who tore a page from a library book, I’ll never understand. They didn’t believe me when I said I only found it—thought being petrified had scrambled my memory. But I never forgot, and I held onto it. You dropped some notes in Potions the next year, and that’s when I realized it was you.”
She could feel the emotions radiating from Draco—embarrassment and discomfort, a faint undercurrent of shame. From Theo, however, came a wave of incredulous realization, and pride for his friend. He hadn’t known. Draco had never told anyone.
“Sixth year,” she pressed on, her tone softer now. “You were more than capable of the dark magic expected of you—powerful enough to cast whatever you needed—but your heart wasn’t in it. The cursed necklace, the poisoned mead… both methods you knew Dumbledore would detect and stop.” Her voice dropped slightly. “You didn’t want to succeed.”
Draco’s gaze dropped to the floor, his hands curling into fists at his sides, but he said nothing.
“And I know you didn’t realize the Death Eaters were coming through that night,” Hermione added, her voice trembling slightly. “Bellatrix happened to mention how surprised you were when they arrived while I was…” She faltered, the memory constricting her throat. Swallowing hard, she shook her head, determined to push through.
“It was supposed to be your mother. She was supposed to verify the Vanishing Cabinet worked, wasn’t she? That’s why you worked so hard to make sure it functioned perfectly.”
Draco’s head snapped up, his eyes glassy, his lips pressed tightly together as though begging her to stop. But he didn’t speak.
“Our would-be seventh year,” Hermione continued, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. Shaky yet firm, her gaze locked with his. “You protected the younger students the best you could, even though you were tortured for it. And when the Snatchers brought us to the manor…” She paused, her breath catching. “You lied about our identity. You knew it was us. They knew it was us. Voldemort would have killed us on the spot, but you lied, and it bought us the time we needed—”
“Granger, stop.” Draco’s voice cracked as he finally spoke, cutting her off. His tone was raw, almost pleading. “I didn’t do anything I should have done in that situation, and you know it. You have the bloody scar to prove it—”
“That wasn’t your fault,” Hermione said fiercely, her voice trembling but resolute. “You would have been killed if you’d tried to stop her—”
“THEN I SHOULD HAVE BEEN!” Draco’s voice erupted, echoing through the room. His face was flushed, his chest heaving with every ragged breath. “I shouldn’t have just stood there and WATCHED you get tortured in my fucking drawing room!”
The room fell into a stunned silence. Their teammates stayed rooted in place, wide-eyed, unsure if they should intervene. Theo’s gaze darted toward Elena as she shifted, preparing to speak, but he shook his head firmly. Elena hesitated, clearly unsure, but nodded at his silent insistence.
This was a conversation none of them had expected to witness, but it was one that seemed necessary.
Hermione sat motionless, her lips pursed, her eyes locked with Draco’s as the intensity of his words hung between them. The weight of the moment pressed down on the room, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she drew in a steadying breath and continued.
“Every single trusted authority figure you had betrayed your trust,” Hermione said, her voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. “They only showed you the worst of themselves. Your parents loved you, yes, but they spoiled you, taught you to hate, taught you that others were less than—and condemned you to follow a madman. You were expected to make impossible decisions as a child with absolutely no positive guidance. But despite all of that, Draco, you did what was right in the best way you knew how every single time it mattered. And I trust you wholeheartedly that you’ll do it now, too.”
She watched as the lump in his throat bobbed, his jaw tightening as he swallowed hard. Without a word, Draco turned his back to the group, his shoulders rigid. Hermione could feel the flood of emotion radiating from him now—raw, tangled, overwhelming. It was mirrored by what she recognized as a steadying wave of comfort being sent toward him by Theo, silent but purposeful.
The weight of the moment pressed heavily against her chest as she realized, once again, where they were and the enormity of the task at hand. Hermione turned back toward Elena, clearing her throat softly.
“I apologize, everyone,” she said, her tone measured but sincere. “For veering off track. I know we’ve briefly mentioned the war before… well, it comes with its own baggage, and I seem to have lost myself for a moment.” She nodded briefly to Elena, who gave a small, understanding nod in return.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione continued. “I’ve stood up against impossible odds before, and I will do it again. I know that Draco and Theo will, too. This won’t be easy, and how we choose to handle this may very well be the single most important moment in Earth’s history. I’ve come to know and appreciate each and every one of you. Despite our missteps, I have faith in our team, and I truly believe we can do this. We can protect them—and we can protect ourselves. We have six months to prepare—to bridge the gap between the magical and muggle worlds—and to ensure that when the humanoids arrive, they’re met with understanding, not fear.”
With the conclusion of her speech, the room fell silent once more; the enormity of their task settled over the team like a tangible weight. Simon, Robert, Aditi, and Elena exchanged looks, subtle and wordless, yet filled with meaning. They had worked together as a team for years before being joined by the trio, and though they had always prepared for the idea of extraterrestrial life, magic had been an unimaginable variable. Yet as they exchanged glances, their expressions shifted—lips tightening with resolve, eyes sharpening with determination. Life beyond Earth. Magic. They were the first to understand it, and they would be the first to share it with the world. For the sake of this species, and for humanity itself, they would find a way to make it work—no matter the cost.
There was no need for words; the silent exchange said everything Hermione had hoped for. Elena turned back toward her, offering a firm nod and a small, resolute smile.
Theo leaned back, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he caught the burst of excitement from Hermione. “Well,” he said lightly, “if anyone can pull off introducing aliens and magic to the world without getting us all killed, it’s you, Granger.”
Hermione shot him a faint smile, though her eyes remained shadowed with the weight of what lay ahead. “Let’s hope you’re right, Theo,” she said softly, her voice tinged with quiet resolve.
The silence lingered for a moment longer before Elena moved forward, her expression firm, her voice breaking through the heavy stillness. “We’ve just been handed the greatest challenge—and the greatest responsibility—any of us will likely ever face,” she said, her tone even but resolute. Her sharp gaze swept over the group, pausing briefly on each of them as if silently gauging their resolve. “We have six months to ensure the survival of an entire species and to prepare the world for something it’s never seen before. And we’re not going to waste a single second.”
She turned toward Hermione, her focus unyielding. “Ms. Granger, your insight into the alien culture, as well as magic and non-magic worlds will be crucial as we prepare. I’ll expect a detailed strategy with recommendations for how we approach this revelation—both to the muggle governments and to your own.” Elena’s gaze shifted to Theo and Draco, her tone softening slightly but still commanding. “The same goes for you both. You’re the bridge between magic and science now, and that connection might be the key to saving lives—on both sides.”
Elena straightened, her tone hardening once more as she addressed the entire team. “We’ll need to brief Earth as soon as possible. They need to know what’s coming, and they need to know now. I’ll take the lead on contacting the ESA and UN representatives, but I’ll need each of you to provide input on how we position this. Make no mistake—this will be a fight, one for hearts and minds, and we can’t afford to lose.”
The weight of her words settled over the group like a second gravity, but Hermione felt something else beneath the surface—a sense of shared purpose. She glanced around, noting the steady determination etched into the faces of her teammates, even Draco, whose usual mask of indifference had given way to a faint, reluctant spark of resolve.
“Well,” Theo said lightly, breaking the tension with a faint smirk. “No pressure, then.”
Hermione allowed herself the briefest of smiles, as she drifted off into her thoughts.
Elena’s sharp nod brought the meeting to a close, her final words punctuating the moment with a sense of urgency that left no room for doubt. “We brief Earth within the next twelve hours. Let’s get to work.”