Runes of Revelation
The clock ticked past midnight as Hermione sat surrounded by mountains of parchments and books at her dining table, once empty it was no longer recognizable under the sprawl of notes and ancient texts. The quiet hum of the night stood in stark contrast to the feverish tempo of her thoughts as she meticulously reviewed the notes she had taken since returning from Archibald's office. Following their earlier examination in his office, they had scrutinized the tome once more, hoping it would reveal more of its secrets. Despite their efforts, aside from the runes that had emerged on its cover and spine, the book remained as unremarkable as before, stubbornly withholding its secrets. She knew there was a connection between the tome and the scroll she found—both marked with the same mysterious runes—and she was determined to uncover them.
She had gone home directly after the incident, barely stopping to grab her coat and wave goodbye to Lydia. Her mind racing as she rushed to examine the ancient scroll she'd uncovered earlier. Pausing long enough to snatch a quick bite and set a kettle on the stove for tea.
Hours later, her fingers instinctively brushed her curly hair away from her face as she leaned back in her chair, stretching her back after being hunched over her work for so long. Standing up, she pushed the chair back and walked over to the stove. With a flick of her wand, she ignited the fire beneath the kettle. Though Hermione could have easily used magic to instantly heat the water, she firmly believed the tea tasted distinctly better when brewed the muggle way.
As the kettle began to heat, Hermione wandered into her living room, absentmindedly scratching Crookshanks behind the ears as he dozed on the couch. She then moved to stand in front of the window, leaning forward into her stretches, the gentle pull helping to ease the tension in her muscles while she waited for the water to boil.
Her gaze unfocused, her thoughts circled back to the research she had just left, why did the tome react to my blood? the question gnawing at her.
It suggested the involvement of some form of blood magic, recognizing something particular in the caster’s blood—but what? And would it react similarly to any blood, magical or Muggle? She recalled how some of the old pureblood families had enchanted their heirlooms and estates to exclude and curse Muggleborns if touched.
She realized she would need to delve into darker studies; the Nott family's extensive library came to mind, known to house one of Britain's largest collections of dark magic texts, only slightly surpassed by the one at Grimmauld Place.
Perhaps I should reach out to Harry or Ginny as well, Hermione thought, considering the resources available at Grimmauld Place. Between the two, she was confident she could uncover more about blood magic and the specific enchantments used for warding.
Just then, the shrill whistle of the boiling kettle snapped her from her thoughts. In the kitchen, she prepared a cup of tea, her movements automatic. Opening the fridge, she was pleased to find some leftover Chinese takeout from the previous day. With a flick of her wand, she levitated the container to the table, grabbed her tea, and settled down to eat, her mind still racing with the possibilities of what her research might uncover.
~~~OO~~~
Sharp knocking jolted her awake. Disoriented, Hermione blinked at the sunlight streaming through her window—had she really fallen asleep at the dining table? The knocking came again, more insistent this time.
“Hermione, are you in there?” Luna’s voice floated through the door, tinged with concern.
“Yes, just a minute!” Hermione called back; her voice hoarse from sleep.
She stumbled to her feet; her mind still muddled with sleep. She glanced at the clock—12 PM. They were supposed to have met for brunch at eleven.
Hurriedly, Hermione splashed water on her face, pulled on a clean jumper and jeans, and dragged a brush through her tangled hair. Opening the door, she was greeted by the sight of Luna Lovegood now Nott and Ginny Potter, nee Weasley, both looking a mixture of amused and concerned.
“We were about to send out a search party,” Ginny joked, stepping into the house. Her eyes quickly taking in the organized chaos—books and parchment everywhere, candles burnt down to stubs.
Luna, ever the empathetic soul, smiled gently at Hermione. “It looks like you've been searching for starlight, haven’t you?”
Hermione managed a sheepish grin. “Something like that. I’m so sorry, I lost track of time.”
“Clearly,” Ginny said, laughing. “Come on then, let’s get some food in you. You can tell us all about your latest research over brunch.”
The trio made their way to a hole-in-the-wall in Diagon Alley, a favorite haunt of theirs since they had all graduated from Hogwarts. As they settled into a corner booth, the conversation turned to their lives. Luna, whimsical as ever, shared tales of her travels with Theodore Nott, her husband, as they traversed the globe in search of mythical creatures for her articles in "The Quibbler". Theodore, who had taken up his family's wealth, supported her fully in her eccentric quests.
Ginny, vibrant and lively, updated Hermione on life with Harry and their three children.
“James is starting at Hogwarts this year. He’s got Harry’s knack for finding trouble, I’m afraid,” she said with a wry smile.
“And Harry’s been swamped at the Auror office, what with all the new recruits.”
“And you, Ginny, what’s new with you?” Hermione asked, genuinely interested. She often found herself out of touch with her friends, as she had the habit of burying herself in her research at the Ministry for weeks on end. The last time they had met Ginny was still searching for something to keep her occupied part-time.
“I’ve been doing some consulting work with the Magical Games and Sports Committee,” Ginny replied. “And I’m thinking of starting a small business related to magical sports equipment. But enough about me—what’s this I hear about you working on time-turners?”
Hermione sighed, her mind momentarily drifting back to the tome and the scroll.
“It’s complicated. I was working on repairing a time-turner, but I found something—something potentially big. But I’m still trying to piece it all together.”
Hermione’s brow furrowed as she turned her gaze back to Ginny. “But how did you know I was working on the time-turners, anyway?” she asked, her tone a mix of surprise and curiosity. Unspeakables were sworn to secrecy, and their projects were closely guarded secrets within the depths of the department.
Ginny’s expression turned knowing. “Harry mentioned it the other day when he was briefed for organizing patrols in the corridors,” she explained.
“They usually tell him just the bare minimum so he can ensure the right security measures are in place, especially if anyone is dabbling in potentially dangerous magic. The last thing we need is for someone to be sneaking around down there and causing trouble,” she added, her face twisting into a grimace at the thought.
Hermione nodded, understanding the necessity yet feeling a twinge of irritation that her work was even slightly exposed. She appreciated the delicacy of her work and the importance of maintaining a veil of secrecy around them. Ginny's words reminded her once again of the skewed balance between safety and scientific pursuit in the magical world.
The friends spent the next few hours laughing and sharing stories, thoughts of mysterious scrolls and ancient runes momentarily forgotten. It was these moments that Hermione cherished deeply—the bonds of friendship that had carried her through the darkest times.
As the afternoon wore on, the topic inevitably shifted to Hermione’s love life, or the apparent lack thereof. “Still holding out for a prince who can debate Arithmancy with you over a cup of Earl Grey?” Ginny teased with a smirk, nudging Hermione gently with her elbow.
Hermione let out a snort, a spontaneous burst that echoed her amusement and the easy friendship she shared with her oldest friends. “Not exactly, but you know I’m not just going to settle.”
“Of course not,” Luna chimed in, wearing a bemused smile. “You’re waiting for someone who can wander through your thoughts and not get lost in the dark corners.”
Their laughter filled the café, bright and infectious, drawing smiles even from some of the other patrons. As their meal came to an end, the trio lingered over their dessert, not quite ready to go back to their usual responsibilities.
Eventually, though, the outside world beckoned. Ginny had to pick up her kids from a playdate, and Luna mentioned a lead on a Crumple-Horned Snorkack sighting that she couldn’t pass up. They hugged Hermione goodbye, making her promise not to bury herself too deeply in her research without coming up for air once in a while.
As Hermione made her way back home, her mind returned to the tome and the scroll. The runes, the connection she was sure existed—there was a puzzle there that just needed the right key to unlock. Her brisk walk turned into a slow saunter as she mulled over everything she had learned, every theory she had considered.
Popping into her apartment, she was greeted by the sight of Crookshanks, who seemed to have decided that the piles of scattered notes made an excellent bed. The sight of him, content amidst the chaos, brought a smile to Hermione's face.
“Guarding the fort, are you?” she quipped as she scooped him up.
Crookshanks purred loudly, nuzzling against her cheek with an affection that only feline companions can show. Setting him down, she straightened her papers, focus sharpening as she spotted something that hadn’t quite dawned on her before.
One of the runes on the scroll seemed to correlate with an obscure symbol she remembered reading about in a text on ancient civilizations—not just any civilization, but one rumored to have created the original blueprint for the destroyed time turners.
Could it really be this simple? Hermione thought, her heart racing as an idea began to take form, if these runes are connected to that ancient knowledge, then perhaps what I hold is more than a random scroll—it's a key.
The rest of the evening passed in a flurry of motion and thought. At first Hermione gone back and forth from her bookshelves to her desk, each time returning with armloads of dusty tomes but eventually to save time had started to wandlessly summon books saving Crookshanks neck as he had been watching her walk back and forth before she had simply started to summon what she needed. As she flipped through page after page, her notes began to sprawl across any available surface, her handwriting becoming more ineligible with every rune translated.
The day away with Ginny and Luna was exactly what I needed, she realized, the mental break having cleared the cobwebs from her mind, sharpening her focus. Refreshed and rejuvenated, she was now able to see her research with new eyes. The ancient scroll, discovered just yesterday, was starting to reveal its true significance. It wasn't merely a collection of arcane inscriptions; it seemed to be a kind of Rosetta Stone for magical languages.
Seven ancient languages, all intertwined, Hermione thought, her pulse quickening with the enormity of what she held. The scroll contained texts in languages she barely recognized, all together in a complex tapestry of magic and history. Translating it wasn't as straightforward as applying her knowledge of known runes; it required delving into long, complicated strings of Arithmancy equations. The numbers and symbols scattered across the scroll seemed to hold the key to understanding but unlocking them was proving to be a challenge.
This is going to take every bit of my knowledge, Hermione mused, feeling both daunted and exhilarated. She set up her workspace methodically, lining up her reference books on one side, her notes on the other, and the scroll in the center, under the bright light of her desk lamp. As she worked, translating one symbol at a time, she found herself sinking deeper into the puzzle. Each rune decoded felt like a victory, but the complexity of the Arithmancy made progress painstakingly slow.
The night wore on, as Hermione's eyes flicked back and forth from her notes to the scroll, her brain tirelessly processing each piece of information. I need to be careful not to miss anything. Every detail could be the key to the next breakthrough, she reminded herself, her determination steeling her against the fatigue that tugged at her eyelids.
Just as she reached for another book, a soft thud on her desk startled her. Crookshanks, her ever-curious companion, had decided to investigate the commotion. Papers scattered under his paws, and he looked up at her with innocent eyes as if puzzled by the chaos he'd caused.
Not now, Crookshanks, Hermione thought with a sigh, her irritation softening as she looked into her cat's large, questioning eyes. Scooping up her mischievous companion, she placed him gently on the floor, her gaze quickly returning to the ancient scroll laid out before her.
As she settled back into her chair, Hermione's thoughts momentarily drifted to her day with Luna and Ginny. I completely forgot to ask about using their libraries, she chided herself.
With a mental note to send an owl to her friends later, Hermione rubbed her tired eyes and glanced out the window. The dark sky had begun to lighten, a pale blue hinting at the dawn's approach. The night had slipped away while she was lost in her work, and the realization brought with it a wave of exhaustion.
Maybe a quick nap would help, she mused, knowing well that her mind wouldn't rest until she had unraveled more of the scroll's mysteries. Yet, she acknowledged the need for rest; a clear mind would be essential to continue her research effectively.
Resigned, Hermione pushed back from her desk, her body aching from hours spent in the same position. She stretched, feeling the stiffness in her shoulders and back. With one last weary glance at the scroll, she decided to heed her body's call for rest.
She would send the owl when she awoke, she decided. For now, though, sleep was needed. With that thought, Hermione turned from the window, her steps slow and heavy as she made her way to her bedroom, her mind still buzzing with runes and possibilities, but her body grateful for the chance to recharge.