Friend Request
Hermione wants a friend.
Hermione wants a friend, so bad .
She has a friend. She has friends . But are they really? There is that doubt in the back of her mind.
Hermione has been alone for so long . Alone, strange, inhumane, scorned, freak. Maybe she wasn’t bullied (much) but she was always alone.
She had been so happy when she had discovered she was magic, she had known that she was different, and now she would finally be among people like her, people who would understand .
But they didn’t. She was different there too. She was alone there too. Even her friends didn’t understand. Didn’t care like she hoped friends would. Harry didn’t care. Harry was always scheming, afraid, guarded, and trying to get himself killed, trying to live like it’s his last day. Playing a role with Ron, smiling, then scheming when he thinks you’re not paying attention. Harry’s like a pillow stuffed with broken shards. Wrong and trying not to cut things around him, but after hanging out with him too long, you see that he wishes he could explode, expose all the shine of his jagged edge and gouge out everything around him.
Hermione pays attention. She can see, and she knows that Harry can’t be what she needs until he gets help . Snape pays attention, though Hermione’s pretty sure Snape and Harry want to kill each other. Like they’ve met each other before. Everyone acts like Harry’s normal. He isn’t, he is sad and angry and not aware of it.
He is also nice. He wants to be nice and good and normal so bad.
Ron is normal. Mundane in that way that kids who think they have it so bad, who wear their big siblings’ old clothing. Mundane in that way that kids who are casually cruel without thinking of people around them, who are all too used to being tolerated. Who wants to be special so bad. Hermione can get that. She doesn’t want to. Frankly Hermione was half convinced that Harry and Ron were just using each other, Ron to be special, being the friend of someone famous, while Harry using him as normalcy, as a way to perfect his act. But hanging out around them showed her that they held on each other like drowning men alone at sea. They were true friends . They somehow understood each other even when it was clear on their face that they would kill each other to be in the other’s shoes.
Hermione wasn’t like that. Hermione was alone. Hermione felt alone, even when she was in the great hall, even at the welcome feast.
Hermione used to be friends with her parents, and a few of their family friends.
She had barely seen them all year. They are starting to drift further apart. She had hidden some things from them and it felt like lead in her lungs whenever she was with them. The stone , the troll . The way Harry had butchered it, the way he had ensured it was dead long after it was downed. The way Ron had wrestled the blood covered eleven years old until he was calm. The way Harry, in his infirmary bed after the Quirrel debacle, had waited for Ron to be gone, before holding her hand with a terrifying look in his eyes before telling her not to trust Headmaster Dumbledore.
It had been two weeks now that school had ended and yet Hermione still felt awkward around her parents, in her home. In her OWN house where she was forbidden to use magic, where a part of herself was denied because of the circumstances of her birth.
She was half asleep on the couch. She was pretty sure her parents had gone back to their room.
Hermione wished for a friend. She wished not to be alone. Wished for someone who would understand her like the closest of siblings. Wished for a comrade in arms, wished for someone who would understand who would-
Hermione felt her magic grasp onto that desire, that wish, that feeling. She felt her magic drain rapidly, leaving it almost depleted and her feeling exhausted. She gasped as a white blinding light exploded over everything. Then a heavy body fell on top of her.
Lysithea Von Ordelia was a genius, an incredible mage, with the guidance of her teacher she had achieved so much, in… admittedly very little time. It had always puzzled her how Byleth seemed to know exactly what to say to get all her students to advance.
Her being dead Absent stung very badly.
The thing is, she had managed to hear a conversation about crestology between Hannemant and Lindhart, and somehow had remembered an offhand comment that her teacher had made about… ascension , about how the crest of flame was powerful enough to change fate itself, and something about the goddess she had tuned out because the Professor said many strange things.
Lysithea Von Ordelia, genius, most powerful mage of Gareg Mach, was also a complete and utter dumbass.
She realised that the moment when she was in the middle of the hastily drawn complex magical circle she and Lindhart had drawn in a drunken frenzy. It had made sense at the time, the ability to alter reality, to channel the power of the goddess (would Byleth have felt it?) into the ritual. Iit was only when they started up the ritual that she realised that she was a dumbass.
She was still in the middle of the circle, she had managed to convince Lindhart to get off his ass and go fetch them some coffee five minutes ago, even in her drunken state she knew the risk and wanted to protect him. The fucking circle had activated itself, even though it was still incomplete. Also this was a prototype, an untested one at that, so it might remove her arms, legs, or head instead of her crests.
Shit . She started to run, but it was too late. She was still half in the circle when it happened. Byleth was right. I should have worked on my physical fitness more.
PAIN.
Lysithea felt like her soul was cleaved in fucking half. Everything was pure agony and lightning. She could feel two dragons fighting inside her veins, her lungs, her very essence. Craft and Lightning. Teeth rendering her from inside. She could feel the grafts inside her spine. Everything was pure agony. The dragons were pulling her in twain. She was two, staring at her own soul mirrored.
And then, she was one.
Lysithea was staring dumbly at her hands as the light from the circle faded, the cold stones of the monastery slowly cooling her down.
She felt electrized. She felt whole. She felt more energy than she ever had ever since the operations. Then Lindhart kicked the door open with two cups of steaming coffee. Well Leonie kicked open the door for Lindhart, apparently that sound of blood curdling screaming had been her.
“Hey Lys. Why are you steaming? And on the ground?”
Lysithea grinned and threw the chalk at him. The piece that had fallen from her grasp when she tried to run out of the spell. She watched as it fell inside one of the cups because she was tired, in pain, drunk and thus could not aim.
“Because I’m a genius!”
Lindhart looked down at the mugs before saying deadpan. “This one will be your coffee.” She ignored his sputters and simply smiled. Despite everything she felt good, alive, energised and like her body was no longer trying to kill her.
Lysithea yelped in a most undignified way as she fell for a brief moment and landed on top of someone. Lysithea wasn’t in the same place. She felt like she had been warped, twisted, stretched, squished, and overall just shoved through a small tube, which was a very weird sensation. She was- she blinked, she realised she felt so good. It was like her blood sang with possibility, her cursed crest imbuing her with vitality and power instead of making her body sing with hurt and discord. She felt powerful! She- Someone heaved and kicked her into a low table.
Oh shit, I landed on someone .
“Who are you?!” Screamed a girl behind her, a few seconds later two adults were in the room too. Everything was strange, from the cut of their cloth to the style of the ho-
Everything went white, she staggered forward, and then she fell.
The last thought she managed to think as she fell was: Some fucking moron just hit my fucking head.
“Dad!” Hermione gasped in disbelief.
“What?!” Her dad asked, looking at her incredulously while he was holding a cricket bat.
“You shouldn’t have-” She was incensed at what he had done.
“Excuse me, but hitting some random magical who just decided to pop into our house seems like a reasonable response.” Her dad said, throwing up his arms.
“Darling, I would agree too, if said magical wasn’t barely taller than Hermione.” Her mother, ever the reasonable one, spoke up.
“She has a weapon!” Her dad called out. Which, now that Hermione took a moment to not panic as much, realised she did indeed have a sword on her person. One that looked to be made in the shape of a stylized lightning bolt? It was not quite a flamberge but similar in design, how curious.
“Matthew, take a look at her, really look.” Her mother said, with all the patience of a saint… Then again she was married to her dad so that wasn’t too surprising.
“Oh. This is a child.” Her dad flinched and finally guilt seemed to settle upon his features.
“Yes.” Hermione shouted exasperatedly.
“ Shiiii -oot. Shoot.” Her father flinched at the glare from her mother.
The Granger family continued to freak out for a bit not noticing that the person on the floor wasn’t knocked out.
Lysithea was gathering information from where she lay on the floor, pretending to be out cold.
“So what do we do? Do you have a way of calling the magical police?” The older woman asked. She had to fight off a frown, it was curious and confusing as she wasn’t sure what they were talking about.
“I… Don’t know?” The youngest said clearly nervous. “How do I not know that? Shouldn’t they have taught us that? This seems like a big misstep in our education?”
“How about a magical ambulance?” The male who had hit her asked, sounding quite nervous himself. She almost snorted, breaking her cover.
“I… Know the name of the hospital?” The youngest one said it was odd that she seemed to know more than the adults.
“Hospital. Singular. They have a single hospital for all of Britain? That does not sound very… smart.” The man asked incredulously. She fought off a frown, she knew not of this Britain… where was she?
Lysithea could definitely get up and lay waste to her attacker with her dark magic. She definitely had the energy to reach for the fucking Thyrsus strapped to her back and poking in her fucking spine. Or she would have if her head didn’t hurt so much. Still, she decided that gathering information was more prudent. She could hear Byleth praising her for that choice of not nuking everything then asking questions.
Still she hated being weak, hated feeling helpless, if she could manage to draw out Thyrsus’s power she could heal herself and make herself more resilient but she needed to touch the cursed thing. Wait . She is touching Thyrsus. Technically.
A bit of desperate focus later and she managed to pull energy out of the thrice damned relic. She sighed loudly, letting the headache recede, allowing herself to let the light of a Heal radiate through her being, focusing on her place in the universe, in the order of the world, in her infinitesimal existence and the infinite value of your choices and life. Truly, anyone who can learn a bit of meditation can learn Heal.
Finally not feeling like her head was one of the Garreg Mac bells that the Archbishop was so infatuated with, she opened her eyes to see three bewildered pairs of eyes. The lack of pain allowed her to realise that she probably wasn’t in danger. She had appeared like a common bringand in the home of these people, and getting a wooden stick to the head was a reasonable response for anyone normal. Honestly she should be glad it wasn’t a sword through the spine, that too would have been appropriate, small mercies.
Lysithea let her lungs be filled with air, and her head filled with the half forgotten niceties that her parents had taught her before she had been forever corrupted and - Focus . She channelled her inner Edelgard to project strength and confidence.
“Good… afternoon? I’ll go with afternoon. I am Lysithea Von Ordelia, Heir Ordelia, Adrestian Imperial General Gremory and Mortal Savant of the Black Eagle Strike Force.” Lysithea did not see any reason to conceal her identity, the kingdom was poor and traditional, with their commoner constantly turning into brigand because of the frequent famine, and the nobles frequently slaughtering them in an eternal bloody cycle. That along with their extremely xenophobic culture, exacerbated by the influence of the Immaculate one and her dragonling, which had led to the annexation of Sreng and the genocide of the Duscur.
The Alliance commoner and Nobles were prone to neutrality, and if she wasn’t in Fodlan for some reason, these people would not give her to the kingdom as they would never ally themselves with people from outside of Fodlan. Therefore it was perfectly safe to reveal herself. Plus, in all of Fodlan, she could count the people she would fear to face in a fight on two hands. “Could you kindly inform me of where I am? It seems I have found myself…” Lysithea paused to take in the surroundings, the sun, the strange technology, the healthy tone of skin… “Far away from home.”
She turned back toward the three inhabitants.
“We’re not in Fodlan, are we?”
The mother was the one to answer her. “No, we’re not.”
Lysithea looked her in the eyes. “Oh my.” Her legs fell from under her as she screamed “OH SHIT!” She grabbed desperately at the couch next to her, like some sort of cat person. Doing anything she could to hold onto the feeling of reality.
Hermione was in the kitchen with her dad, making tea while her mom was trying to keep the diminutive magical lady from continuing her full blown panic attack. The powerful magic teen, who didn’t register on the trace; seeing as they hadn’t gotten an owl yet, claimed to be part of an empire that wasn’t referenced in any magical or mundane history book. One who seemed adept at wandless, and silent magic to the point where she could negate a concussion. Plus she had seen the blood pour back into her wounded head and the skin knit back together and that was not the kind of thing that happened in Pomfrey’s infirmary .
Hermione was trying, well, more like watching her dad try to make whatever an apple blend tea was, which she hadn’t even realised was a thing. She was snapped out of her thoughts when her dad began to slice apples stupidly thin.
“So… I take it you have as little clue as we do about our new guest’s origin?” He then added with a smirk, “you usually would have piped up by now.”
“Dad, that-Her magic barely feels like magic, like I know it’s powerful and supernatural but… When you’re near magic it’s like-” She trailed off as she tried to think of a way to properly explain it. “You can smell it in the air, when I’m in Hogwarts it’s so saturated with magic it’s almost; like when I had to be put on pain medicine that one time. But her magic… It’s something else ” She struggled to explain.
“Oh.” He continued to slice apples, he looked over to her and waited to see if she had anything else to add.
She bit her lip and frowned, well if he was seeking her opinion. “I think she’s like a straight up interdimensional alien. Like, Doctor Who.” She looked back at her dad who had frozen and then groaned.
“Shite.” Despite the seriousness of everything Hermione had to resist laughing. Dad would get in so much trouble if mom heard that.
Doctor Melissa Granger, who had studied to be a dentist for years, and had accepted to go with her husband into his waterlogged island after a year of suffering the company of the Parisiens , was an experienced woman and not easily surprised. She had barely even been surprised that her daughter turned out to be a witch, especially given all the floating toys and oddities surrounding Hermione growing up. Really when she had read in her letters from Hermione that she disliked flying was one of the most shocking things she had read/heard in years. She had thought her baby girl would love the freedom, but seeing a boy break his wrist and then two students proceed to nearly break their necks… well she guessed she understood a bit. Still she was used to the unusual, she was prepared to adapt.
Doctor Melissa Granger, was not however, prepared to tell an apparent dimension and/or time travelling magical child soldier that she had been teleported away from all she knew. That she was in a world that had nothing to do with where she came from.
The good news was that she had figured it out by herself. The bad news? She had figured it out and then proceeded to panic, and just like when Hermione panicked, strange things happened. Still she would deal with this and help the sweet dear, her blood boiled at the thought of a whole academy of child soldiers.
“So… Am I in the future, the far past, or a whole other world? Then again it could be some other possibility which I did not account for. But how could I tell? I need to figure out the differences and…” She continued to mumble to herself and it really did remind her of when her daughter was freaked out.
Ooooh boy . Right, she could do this.
“Well, I would not know about the whole far past thing, but I doubt you’re in the future. We did not have any ‘Adrestian empire’ in the history of our planet, as far as I know.” Considering she had done well in world history in college, and judging by the attire it couldn’t have been too long ago, she didn’t think it was an ancient civilization. So yeah she knew of no empire named such. Especially not one that openly used magic in warfare.
“Oh.” The look on the white haired girl was, well it broke her heart.
For a moment she let the silence settle but it became too overbearing so she cleared her throat and spoke up. “So… You’re in the army?” She tried to keep her tone neutral; she wasn’t mad a the dear for having to do what she had to.
The dear managed to wrench herself out of her spiral to respond. “... Yes. I’m the grand Gremory and mortal Savant of the Emperor’s personal vanguard unit. I also help our emperor with paperwork when we’re not dispatched since I’m used to running my parent’s estate due to their… compromised state. I guess I am also technically part of the medical and research team because of my magical knowledge and the fact I share the same affliction as her Majesty.” She did not elaborate on the affliction, nor did she seem to want to. Melissa’s opinion of this Emperor was rapidly diminishing.
“Oh my.” It was a lot to take in, so to help she reached out and gave the girl's hand a gentle squeeze.
“Sorry if I’m rambling I’m just… realising how much work is going to be set back without me. How much they must be freaking out.” She explained as her hands were flexing, a clear sign that she was trying to ground herself.
“Oh. I am sure they are working hard to get you back?” She had no idea why she phrased it as a question.
“Not likely, my friends probably think I'm dead. Especially if that layabout Lindhart fell asleep getting us coffee. Plus it’ll be even worse for the morale on top of the Professor’s disappearance, sure it had been four years but the wound was still raw. I won't be able to know how the war’s going either.” She was starting to panic so Melissa gave her hand another squeeze. Helping her to calm down.
“Do you want to talk about it? Or about your friends? Or the war? I admit that I am quite curious, and maybe talking about it will help you.” This was a good way to get information and could help her figure out more about where she was from, and if needed form a case to avoid giving her back. She didn’t want to send her back to an active war zone.
When her husband, Mathew, came with the pot of tea and a biscuit platter, she saw the teenager uncurl her hands to cradle the teacup like she was handed like a lifeline. She gave him a thankful smile while absentmindedly reaching for a sweet.
Which she shoved into her mouth like a squirrel. After a bit she seemed to calm down further.
“Well, I… admit that perhaps it will help me focus, and keep my mind off of the worst outcomes .” Lysithea inhaled the tea vapours, letting the warmth fill her lungs, before sighing. “So, what are your questions?”
Melissa blinked and looked to Matthew, unsure of where to start. Luckily she didn’t have to as Hermione had entered with her father and was the first to speak up.
“How did you do magic like that? I have never seen magic done as such. Also it avoided the trace, which is very interesting because Professor McGonagall told us that any magic use would trigger the trace and that could cause us to have our wands snapped or be expelled.”
“I am sorry, you can trace magic?” The very idea seemed nonsensical, how could you trace something that was everywhere? “I… How would one go about tracing magic? Magic is simply using bits of the world and yourself combining them into a form that you can then unleash. Well, I guess faith magic is a bit different, but that’s an entirely different concept. Dark magic is different though in the sense that it uses bits of yourself and energy pulled from the theoretical dimension of Zahras rather than the elements.”
Melissa watched as Hermione’s eyes went wide, “combining bits of yourself with magic from the world? That… that isn’t how it’s done! All the books I have say it is purely internal! Also I never heard of that Zahras place which we probably use different terms.”
“You have tomes that are teaching you wrong?” She watched as Lysithia blinked in disbelief, and horror settled on her face. “No this will not do! That is like cutting off your leg because you were lazy! That would be handicapping your potential by forcing yourself to do all the work it is asinine! Allow me to see these so-called tomes .” She spat out the last word, the disgust was quite evident in her voice.
Hermione dashed upstairs and Melissa moved back to head towards Matthew taking him aside and giving what she hoped was a reassuring smile, they would watch the two girls nerd out and she could collect more information. For now this was the best they could do. She leaned in and whispered, “let them be for now… She,” Melissa looked at the young girl who seemed to be doing better already. “She needs a moment of normalcy. We can find out more later, for now let her nerd out and figure things out.”
“Right, soooo Doctor Who style alien?” She snorted as she watched Hermione rush back into the room carrying an arm load of books.
“Yeah, Doctor Who style alien with no TARDIS to get home.” Matthew frowned and let out a deep sigh.
“Right…” Melissa leaned into her husband and sighed as she listened and watched her daughter and Lysithea eagerly argue discuss magical theory. “She probably won’t teach Hermione any war magic. I hope .”
She sighed at her husband's look, even though he didn’t say anything she could hear his accusation. They both knew their daughter, she took after her when she was younger. Hermione wouldn’t settle for half-assed lessons she would demand to do everything.
“Question, why does it say only people of a certain type of person can learn magic? Anyone can learn magic, I bet I could even teach your parents.” Melissa felt her eyes widen.
“YES!”
She ignored her husband's groan of despair.
Lysithea was grinning. They, her friends, had all mocked her for never going anywhere without bringing all her tomes with her, but now! Ha jokes on them now they were needed because… Now she was… alone. In another fucking world. Her grin melted away and she had to resist the urge to disassociate. She was without Edelgard , without Annie, Petra, Ashe, Dorothea, or even Sylvain, she couldn't believe she was missing that smarmy ass. She snorted as she shook her head, it truly was a bad time when she was missing him.
Lysithea continued to make a list of her belongings. A pouch of gold, which apparently had value here so that was good, Thyrsus still twitching and glowing to her now unique Gloucester Crest, a levin sword that the Professor had gotten her on her birthday; she had gotten them all weapons to replace their decorative Garreg Mach sabre, to Seteth’s consternation. She had gotten it reforged and reinforced after they had invaded Gareg Mach. A pouch of Bergamot tea she had hoped to share with Edelgard. The clothing on her back and, of course, tomes . The last thing she had of note was a few normal books she had that she often read in her down time.
Right now however, she was focused on the spell books she had. She had her usual array of spells, the ones she had mastered , Miasma, Swarm, Luna, Dark Spikes, Hades, Heal, Nosferatu, Seraphim, and Warp. Then the ones she was learning, or well she had been planning to learn, they would still be learned and mastered just - she had other things to focus on right now. Included in that list were spells that were in need of perfecting . As a magical genius, she knew the theories of a great many spells, in application it was true she had neglected her elemental reason magic. She could use the time she now had to catch up on these, once she had figured things out, the white haired lady wasn’t above admitting that she had been in awe of the power of Dorothea’s meteor.
She sighed as she thought about the last bit of magic she had let fall to the side, Faith magic - specifically healing magic, it wasn’t too surprising that she had neglected healing spells, before the Professor she had been sort of on a one track mentality. Kill them before they could kill you, Byleth though had shown her there was more to life than that, that it was worth it to enjoy the few years she had left, that it was - Lysithea cut that train of thought before she started crying. She needed to round herself out, so she had made a note to do so. She had just not gotten to it yet, and now… Well she didn’t have her Strike Force to rely on anymore. It would be prudent to have a greater ability to heal. Especially considering just how different magic was here.
Through her Professor’s teaching she had learned a great many spells, but with the little time she had for studying, she had had to focus on a small arsenal. She knew Byleth had wanted to push her more, and part of her regretted that she hadn’t pushed herself harder while she had the Professor’s help. She took a deep breath, and fought off the tears that stung at the corner of her eyes. She couldn’t focus on that right now, she had to focus on this new world, she had to survive. Byleth would want that, Edelguard would want that , they would want her to rise to the challenge and prove she could survive.
Besides, between her knowledge and mastery of magic and an entire new method of bastardised magic from this world. She didn’t like it but they were capable of things she hadn’t been so she figured she could learn. She figured she would find a way back home, back to Edelgard. She sighed and put down her quill, she had a list of everything she had. All she was doing now was stalling, she knew she needed sleep, needed to recover from her ordeal. Part of her, though, was terrified that when she woke up she would still be in this strange land. That she would find herself trapped away from those she cared about and loved.
“Come on Lysithea pull it together.” She laid down in a bed that was far softer than she was used to and closed her eyes. In the morning she could find out more about this world and begin to find her way home.
Lysithea was sleeping. She knew that because she had spent half an hour thinking about how soft the Granger’s guest bed was, and now well she was standing - so ya know sleeping. If that wasn’t enough, the gigantic dripping blood dragon in front of her was a good indicator.
Then again, maybe gigantic dripping blood dragons at night were a normal thing in this world? She doubted it, see the standing comment, but still. Lysithea spent what felt like an hour but was probably just a few seconds fighting her totally justified and rational fear of the supernatural to talk to the fucking red goop dragon.
“What’s the deal with you? Are you j-just going to stand there staring at me?!”
Lysithea would later admit that maybe screaming petulantly at a dragon made of blood that somehow rivalled the Immaculate One’s size while being in a relatively small room was not one of her smarter choices. However, she was fucking terrified and it was how she got her thoughts under control, sue her for being a silver spoon brat if you want but still she felt like she had earned it, through the pain of her past and constant work into her parent’s failing estate while her siblings had the privilege of sleeping six feet underground in peace, of not knowing that surviving was worse . The pain, the joints, the scars, the anger at being the only one left alive while her parents spent their day slowly dying in their bed, like living sad corpses, the intrusive anger towards those who had been granted the sweet release of death by the- Her spiral of self loathing and anger was cut short when the blood goop monstrosity put a paw the size of her torso on her shoulder-STICKY-WARM-WET-IRON-DAMP- it then started to speak in a deep goopy voice.
“I admit that the Immaculate One had always been the runt of the litter, but to think that she would be comparable to my size in this diminished state proves that she hasn’t been taking care of herself.”
She blinked, and then realised that words had indeed been said, and they had formed sentences. Then those sentences were processed and she could only think of saying one thing.
“What.”
“The Immaculate One. Seiros. My little sibling. Last remaining Nabathean directly created by Sothis? About your height in human form last I saw her. Green hair but likes to dye them blond?”
Lysithea was trying to make sense of what she was hearing, and mostly failing to do so. Still it was like a puzzle and that was a task that she could accomplish, and she was good at those. “... Your sibling, the Immaculate One , who you are implying is also Saint Seiros.”
“She calls herself a Saint? Well that’s… weird. And culty. Did my little sister form a cult? Please tell me she didn’t start a cult.”
“Less cult, more like a full scale monotheist state sanctioned religion based on crests and noble lineage of crest bearers.” Ah yes she could talk about the corrupt state and the evil of the crest system! She could do that for hours!
“Crest bearers. ” The dragon paused for a second, their bloody face suddenly looking quite pained. “ You mean the descendants of those assholes who massacred our people enjoy power and wealth today in the system that my baby sister enforces?”
Well this was certainly interesting, huh, this dream (not dream???) was not what she expected, especially considering how lucid it was. Also she was noticing a distinct lack of scantily clad Edelgard patting her head. “...Probably. You clearly have info that I lack.”
“Shit. that’s fucked up. ” This blood dragon was not what she expected. “ I’m a dragon demigod. I don't need to wax poetic with each sentence to keep the mysticism. Also yes I can read your thoughts. ” She felt like he was judging her for her earlier thoughts about Edelgard. “ I am. ” Wow, rude.
Still unsure on how to proceed in the situation she was in, AKA in casual conversation with a blood dragon about their trauma and dead family, Lysithea took the occasion to form a seat in her mind, it ended up being the Granger’s guest bed as that thing was very comfortable.
“So. My name is Lys-”
“Yes, yes, I know that, I’m the ghost of a dragon demigod that has been haunting the blood of my murderers or,” said the dragon demigod, he/she/they (?) immediately started to ramble, good she liked getting plot and exposition. “Well just anyone with any trace of my blood in their body, there is this family in what you would call Morfis now, who has my blood because of a bargain I made with an excellent chef in their ancestry. Lovely people.” Snapping out of their ramble, the apparent ghost focused back on Lysithea. “Anyways focusing back on you, while it is true I've been haunting your blood and your bone marrow, the presence of my electric brother made us both unstable enough that I had a hard time focusing on what you were living through. So while I know the broad strokes such as your name, your family, your obvious crush, I admit my knowledge is patchy.”
Lysithea immediately spluttered, “My WHA-”
“Ah, yes, I forgot, you were doing the presentation thing. Well dear host, I am, ” The blood dragon shivered before the red animated liquid turned into a tall scaly dragon with a maw filled with teeth the size of her head and a resplendent colourful mane of feathers. “ The one and only Craft Dragon, the Discerning One, of the twenty one children of Sothis I am the Twelfth eldest and you possess a staff made with my spine, phalanges and my Heartstone. Along with traces of my blood and what I guess is probably some of my marrow in your spine.”
“Oh… Greetings O Discerning One.” Lysithea didn’t know what to add, she was still flustered by his reference to her crush. RUDE. After a few moments she piped up just to break the awkward silence. “Are you mad at me because of the whole…”
“No.” The dragon rose to her level, huge eyes in front of her as they started talking in a solemn voice. “I have spent our time since you got here reviewing your memories and I have come to a conclusion. I like you, you’ve earned my respect Lysithea Von Ordelia. You are a hard working, ingenious and genuinely good and caring person who has risen to every challenge in her way, even when every day you live is its own little torment. When your scars make you feel weak, when the ache in your bones keeps you awake on cold nights, you have pushed on. You are a worthy one, Lysithea.”
Her face burned and she was glad she was sitting as her legs were wobbling and her eyes stinging with unshed tears. It felt so good to be acknowledged, to be seen, to have someone understand just what she felt, what she lived with. Until now the only ones who understood were Edelgard and Byleth, and both of them were just larger than life figures compared to her. Before she could voice how touched she felt, the draconic creature continued. “Also, you are an interesting person, which is another point for you. As a ghost being attached to your blood, I would be sooooo mad if you were boring. Or annoying, having to follow that Gloucester boy around is suuuuch a pain.”
Suddenly Lysithea felt a whole lot less touched. Though she understood, just imagining having to be around Lorenz for longer than an hour a day was nightmare fuel. He could be tolerable really, but in small doses.
“Thank you, I suppose?”
“You are very welcome, my Avatar."
“Avatar?” Uhhh what?
“Yes, we have much to discuss,” that felt like a massive understatement and was not ominous at all. Still she was going to get some answers and hopefully he could help her find a way home.
Hermione Granger was terrified . She knew that accidental magic was a thing but had she bloody kidnapped a woman from her world and her loved ones? She felt awful, she felt like scum, she felt like she was the worst kind of person…. Because part of her was also so very excited. Her own friend, seemingly chosen by Lady Magic herself, or the Goddess or someone . She had someone who could understand her, who was just as excited as her to learn things. Who got her, even having only known her a few scant hours she felt a connection that felt so… reassuring and just it felt nice. So yeah guilt was a horrible thing, and she felt very conflicted.
Also she knew she would never truly regret her wish because Lysithea was also going to teach her a brand new kind of magic from a whole other world, Magic that couldn’t be traced. Magic that she saw from the demonstrations was just as awesome and interesting as what she had seen in school. Magic she could share with her parents , she wanted so much to be able to share this aspect of her life with her mom. To have her truly understand…
She had barely slept because she was vibrating with excitement. But also because of the soul crushing guilt. Again, she had probably magically kidnapped a woman by wishing upon a metaphorical star. Still she had so many questions, like how had her wish worked? What had caused it to activate? Lysithea had mentioned a ritual, so it seemed she believed she was responsible as well? Or was it because they had done it at the same time? What was the cause?
Either way it had resulted in her being up very early, because of said guilt, she was now making breakfast for the whole family. She was making crepes, because it was the obvious way to welcome someone into their world. French cuisine was the way to go, she, like her mother, detested British shitty food (apart from crumpets, but those were some devil confections so they didn’t count.), which meant Hogwarts was rather rough of a time. Well, ok maybe shitty was a bit much still it was very bland and basic . She had already packed a spice mix for next year.
Maybe that was another reason she didn’t fit in, she was actually French and not British . No that didn’t make sense, after all the Patils appeared to be doing good so maybe that was a bad excuse. Then again the British hated the French and were indifferent to people from India so maybe it wasn’t so bad.
A stack later and her parents were up making coffee, while also making a few calls to displace a few appointments under the pretence of a family emergency. Well not really pretence given Hermione would say that having an interdimensional guest as an emergency.
Said guest finally walked in the dining room in a daze. A few minutes later and they were all eating, Hermione couldn’t wait to study magic and wanted to do nothing more than badger her with questions however upon seeing the joy and how much she delighted in the crepes with various fillings. Maple syrup mostly. She realised she would have to wait to badger her and instead went back to the stove top to make some more.
She had a friend now and that was the kind of thing friends did for one another. They made eachother food when they were having bad days, and being ripped away from all your friends and family definitely qualified as a bad day. Also she liked cooking, and had debated becoming a pastry chef before finding out about magic.
“Thank you so much for the food, could you tell me what this ‘maple syrup’ is? We do not have it in our world. It is simply amazing, also Nutella? It shows what appears to be nuts on the container but I know of no nut that has such a delicious taste.”
“Oh that’s simple, well not really, it’s made of a refined sweet sap from Maple trees in very specific meteorological conditions that are only met in certain locations, or in a lab. As for Nutella, well it's made from sweetened Hazelenuts!” Hermione eagerly began to ramble about the process of making both Maple Syrup and Nutella, she did after all know quite a bit about it, it still might be a hyper-fixation for her. Huh… she wondered if magicals had high class chefs? Clearly not British magicals but it might be worth looking into.