Extracurriculars

The dark silhouette of the cottage loomed ahead, cloaked in shadows and surrounded by an air of foreboding that made Hermione’s skin prickle. Tendrils of ivy wrapped around its stone walls, giving it the appearance of a place long forgotten by the world. Yet as they approached, the shimmer of protective wards hinted at a vigilant and active defense, layered thick with spells designed to ward off intruders.

Malfoy stopped a few paces from the entrance, his gaze sharp and focused. “Stay back for a moment, Granger,” he said, his voice a quiet murmur that carried a note of authority. “These wards are complex, and I don’t need you setting off anything before I’ve had a chance to work.”

Hermione bristled at his tone but held her tongue, watching as he raised his wand and moved closer to the shimmering field of magic that enveloped the building. She knew he was in his element here; whatever else she thought of Draco Malfoy, his skill with defensive spells and ward-breaking was undeniable. She folded her arms, observing as he began to assess the layers of enchantments before them.

Draco’s eyes narrowed as he muttered under his breath, his wand tracing delicate, precise movements. The wards glowed faintly in response, their colors shifting as he tested each layer, one by one. “Standard anti-Apparition spell on the outer layer,” he noted aloud, his tone clinical. “There’s a blood ward interwoven with it…clever but sloppy. They tried to hide a secondary curse right beneath it.”

“Do you think it’s an alarm curse?” Hermione asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Not quite. This one would have paralyzed an intruder just long enough for a nastier curse to activate,” Malfoy replied, his expression hardening as he worked.

With a steady hand, he cast a series of silent counter-spells, unraveling each ward with a deftness that spoke to years of training. Hermione found herself studying his work, grudgingly impressed by his control. He’d always been meticulous, but his skill now seemed sharper, refined by a life outside of Hogwarts. It was as if she were watching an artist at work, each movement deliberate, each spell cast with complete precision.

She edged closer, unable to resist asking, “How are you dismantling the blood ward? I’ve seen them used before, but they’re nearly impossible to break without leaving a trace.”

Malfoy gave her a sidelong glance, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You just have to know where to apply pressure,” he said, his voice laced with dry humor. “It’s about finding the weakest point. Like this.”

He tapped his wand lightly against a faintly glowing rune hidden within the ivy, and the entire layer of enchantments shivered, sketching out an intricate grid of lines. Malfoy scanned the ward closely before hovering his wand over a small patch of fuzzier, unsteady magic. He muttered a series of incantations low under his breath before the ward dissolved into a mist. He stepped back, letting out a slow breath, but his attention immediately shifted to a new shimmer—a faint line of runes that had appeared, barely visible, on the threshold of the door. She could see a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck, despite the cold.

“Interesting,” he murmured, examining the runes. “It looks like a delayed-trigger curse…probably a confusion hex that would lead an intruder around in circles.”

Hermione took a step forward, her gaze narrowing as she assessed the spellwork. “Let me handle this one. Confusion curses fall under curse-breaking; I have more experience with this.”

Malfoy hesitated, clearly ready to counter her, but instead he gave a quick nod. “Fine. But if anything feels off, let me know.”

Hermione ignored his tone and crouched down, carefully extending her wand over the threshold. She could sense the curse now—a pulsing, almost deceptive spell that lay beneath the surface, meant to ensnare anyone who stepped over it unprepared. She began murmuring the counter-curse, her wand movements precise as she unraveled the tangle of magic.

Just as she was about to finish, a flicker of something dark flashed beneath the spell—a secondary layer that had been hidden, ready to activate if the first curse was broken. Hermione froze for a split second, her mind racing.

“Malfoy—There’s something else here. it’s—”

But before she could finish, his hand closed over her wrist, pulling her back sharply just as a surge of black light erupted from the threshold, hissing and crackling in the space she’d occupied moments before. His grip was firm, almost bruising, as he steadied her and took a quick step forward, raising his wand and casting a silent, precise spell that absorbed the energy from the trap, extinguishing it in a flash.

They stood in silence for a moment, the air thick with residual magic, and Hermione let out a shaky breath. Merlin, it’s been ages since she did field work.

“Nice catch,” he murmured, releasing her wrist but keeping his eyes trained on the doorway. “Whoever set these was a bit more thorough than I’d expected.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, brushing herself off and refocusing on the door. “I didn’t expect a secondary layer on a confusion curse. That’s not standard practice.”

He smirked. “No, it’s not. But whoever set this up was clever. Come on.” He inclined his head toward the doorway.

They stepped into the cottage, both of them tense and alert, wands at the ready. Hermione heard Malfoy cast several more detection spells before they moved further. The room beyond the threshold was dark and dusty, with shelves lining the walls, cluttered with books, vials, and strange artifacts that glinted in the dim light. The air smelled stale, heavy with the scent of old parchment and dried herbs. Shadows pooled in every corner, the silence almost deafening.

Hermione took a cautious step forward, her gaze sweeping over the cluttered space. She could feel the remnants of powerful magic clinging to the room, as if the walls themselves held onto whatever spells had been cast here. She moved toward a workbench littered with glass vials, carefully picking up a vial filled with a dark, viscous substance and examining it under the faint light from her wand.

“Potion ingredients,” she murmured, turning the vial in her hand. “And…these symbols…” She pointed to a series of hastily scribbled runes etched onto a piece of parchment beside the vials.

“Maybe germanic origins? I haven’t had to do any rune based work in years.” Hermione grumbled under her breath

Malfoy stepped closer, looking over her shoulder at the parchment. “I think you’re right,” he said, his voice low. “But they’re slightly altered. It’s definitely working with blood magic, and something about identity. If I can’t translate it myself, Theo could.”

Hermione’s interest pricked at the name. She hadn’t heard much of anything regarding Theodore Nott in the years since Hogwarts. Hermione shivered, setting the vial down.

Malfoy’s expression darkened as he examined a set of intricate diagrams scrawled on another sheet of parchment. “This is beyond simple dark magic. Whoever designed this knew exactly what they were doing.”

They continued their search, moving carefully around the small space, inspecting shelves filled with aged books and crates of rare ingredients. The cottage was a treasure trove of magical knowledge, but beneath its surface lay an unmistakable sense of menace, as though each artifact had been placed there with the sole intent of creating harm.

They’d just rounded a corner when a faint hum filled the air—a sound that grew steadily louder, accompanied by a soft glow emanating from the floor. Malfoy stiffened, raising his wand as the glow formed into a series of runes, twisting and spiraling outward in an intricate pattern.

“Back up, Granger,” he said sharply, his voice taut.

But before they could react, the runes flared with light, and the room around them began to shift, the walls seeming to twist and bend. Hermione blinked, disoriented, as the shelves appeared to stretch into endless rows, each one stacked with artifacts she hadn’t seen before. She heard Malfoy mutter a curse under his breath, his wand drawn as he moved closer to her.

“It’s an illusion trap,” he said grimly, his tone low but steady. “Meant to confuse intruders until they get caught in another spell.”

Hermione’s heart pounded as she tried to focus, steadying her breathing. “If we can isolate the source of the illusion, I can—”

“It’s not that simple,” Malfoy cut in. “The runes are embedded into the floor itself. It’s designed to throw off counter-spells.”

He glanced at her, his expression serious. “I can keep it contained, but we have to move fast.”

She gave a determined nod, focusing her wand on the runes. Slowly, she began muttering a complex counter-curse, her movements precise as she traced the symbols. The illusion flickered, the walls shifting back to their original form, but just as she neared the last rune, she felt a jolt—a surge of magic meant to disrupt her spellwork.

Before she could react, Malfoy stepped in, covering her with a shield charm just as the magic flared, absorbing the impact. The force knocked him back slightly, but he held his ground, his wand aimed at the final rune as he cast a counter-spell that neutralized it entirely.

They both stood there, breathing heavily, as the room settled back to its original form. For a brief moment, they exchanged a glance, a mutual understanding passing between them—an acknowledgment of the trust they’d had to place in each other.

“Not bad, Granger,” Malfoy said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was laced with a hint of admiration, though he masked it quickly. “Next time, though, try not to trigger every trap in the place.”

Hermione gave him a dry look.

They moved forward, both of them on high alert as they continued to search the cottage. Finally, Hermione spotted a ledger tucked away on a shelf, its cover worn and cracked with age. She opened it carefully, her eyes widening as she scanned the pages.

“It’s a record,” she murmured, her tone hushed, wonder and unbridled fear laced through her at the information she’d uncovered. “Of experiments. Failed experiments with magical signatures.” Her voice tightened. “This disease—it’s a side effect of someone trying to alter or corrupt magical energy. Whoever did this wasn’t just careless—they knew exactly what they were doing.”

Malfoy’s expression darkened, his gaze hard as he glanced toward the door. “Then we’ll find them. We just need to make sure…”

But his words trailed off as they heard faint footsteps approaching outside the cottage, moving steadily closer. Hermione’s heart raced as she and Malfoy exchanged a tense look.

“Someone’s here,” he whispered. “We need to move.”

He led her quickly toward a small back door he’d noticed earlier, guiding her through the darkened space as the footsteps grew louder, inching closer with every second. They barely slipped outside before the door creaked open, and they ducked behind a thicket, watching as a figure entered, wand raised.

Hermione itched to stay longer, approach the shrouded figure, demand answers to the illness plaguing her work, but Malfoy had a right grip on her upper arm in warning. Not now.

In silence, they retreated into the shadows, slipping away from the cottage and back into the cover of the forest. At the edge of the clearing, Hermione cast a final look back, her mind racing with the implications of what they’d found.

“We have to tell Harry,” she whispered.

Malfoy nodded but his expression laced with something like exasperation as he muttered sarcastically, “Oh I can’t wait to tell Potter about our little field trip.”