Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Her Grace, the Duchess of Surrey,
That’s a sentence I didn’t think I would write, me, addressing a duchess, who would’ve imagined that? But I'm getting ahead of myself, I haven't introduced myself or gotten to the point of this letter.
I am a professor at Trinity College Oxford, I got your name and direction from the alumni page. I imagine the time when you were attending school was when I was attempting retirement, but I digress.
I am a Medieval historian and an Early Church scholar, and I have been working on a new research project. I have been told you are good at finding items that have been lost to history, and I need your help. If my hypothesis is true, it could rewrite English history as we know it.
Please attend to me at my office as early as possible.
Yours etc
T. Grimswaine
"He's definitely an Oxford Don alright," Hermione murmured, perusing the letter she had received over a week ago for the hundredth time. "Rambling, pretentious, basically describes all of my professors."
"And you don't remember him from your time there at all?" Fleur asked.
“No, but it does say he was attempting retirement for a while. Someone might have mentioned his name, but I was too busy with my own projects to pay attention.” She sipped at her macchiato and nodded at the flavor, “Oh I’ve missed this.”
“Bit unusual to find an Italian coffee shop so near an English university.”
Hermione hummed as she sipped at her drink, “It would be a bit more unusual to not find a coffee shop near a university. There’s a few just down this street actually, but this one was always my favorite, the coffee is delicious.”
Fleur sipped her espresso, “This is amazing, I will give you that, the Italians know their way around coffee, their wine leaves much to be desired though.”
“I see the competition between France and Italy is alive and well.”
“It is not our fault that everything the French do is sheer perfection.”
"Does that work since technically your entire family was from Italy long ago?"
The blonde grumbled and Hermione bit back a laugh as looked around. Memories of days studying here and in the library flooded through her mind, and nights spent in the pub with friends she made while at university. Her time here at Oxford was so far removed from her time at Hogwarts, it was a welcome break, to just be normal for once, or as normal as she could be as a known duchess. She loved Sirius, but she would have resurrected him just to kill him again when she found out that the title in the magical world translated to one in the mundane world as well.
"Are you alright?" Fleur's voice broke her out of her thoughts and Hermione focused her attention back on the other woman.
"Yes, just lost in thoughts, memories from years ago." She looked back down at the cup in her hands, "My time here was just so… different from my time at Hogwarts. With everything that happened, I realized that being in and around the magical world was having a negative influence on my mental health, so being here was a nice break."
"Only you would consider attending one of the most prestigious universities in the world a mental break."
"After the chaos of the magical world, definitely."
Fleur studied the woman carefully, "Is that why you do not use much magic when you are out in the non-magical world? It's too mentally straining?"
Hermione sipped at her drink as she thought about the answer. "It's not so much mentally straining as it is difficult," she replied. "I have more bad memories with magic than good memories, so to try and recover emotionally equilibrium, it was easier for me to put magic to the side when I'm not directly in the magical world or places like Black Manor, Hogwarts, Diagon Alley. There is also the fact that magic is often like a hammer, and in my line of work, hammers can be a bit much."
The blonde took in the other woman's answer, and analyzed it. It wasn't hard to see where Hermione was coming from, her years in the magical world were fraught with difficulty and pain. Magic was convenient and made many parts of life easier, but it also complicated things because so much of it was still unknown. It was a tool, a gift they used in their day-to-day lives, but it was still a mystery and had to be treated with respect. For someone who did not grow up using it, it would be easier to choose more familiar, well known tools.
"How are your Aunts doing with being thrust into the role of Veela royalty?" Hermione asked, breaking Fleur out of her musings.
"It's only been a few weeks, but I am glad I came here when I did," Fleur sighed. "Estelle and Natalie are trying to wrangle the council and meeting with the different clans, Victoire has stepped up her training as the future head of Delacour clan, Maman has lost her marbles, Grandmère and Grandmaman have gone off on an adventure so there was really no one to bear the brunt of Maman's stress. I love my family, but they drive me crazy."
"Yes, well, for what it's worth, I'm glad you're here too." Hermione took a sip of her coffee to hide the blush on her face.
"Ah, yes well… " Fleur stuttered, a matching blush decorating her face. It was the first time they really mentioned anything close to the mutual feelings they shared. After Fleur arranged to only do contract work as a curse breaker for the French ministry and to help Hermione with her travels, they didn't really talk about it. It hadn't been very long since their first adventure together, so they weren't in a hurry, but hearing Hermione reference potential feelings sent flutters through the blonde's body.
Hermione glanced at her watch and quickly downed the rest of her coffee. “If we leave now, we should be able to make it to the college on time. Oxford dons, they prefer everyone to be on time, but they’re late for everything.” She rolled her eyes and pushed away from the table.
It wasn't what Fleur wanted to hear, she wanted to keep talking with the other woman, keep exploring… whatever it was between them, but she knew that Hermione was right. They were in Oxford for a particular reason, it wouldn't do to avoid it completely. They left the ceramic cups and saucers on the table, and continued down the road towards Trinity College.
The city of Oxford was not unlike most other cities in England, but at the same time, it was entirely different. Stone and concrete buildings crammed next to each other along small streets, some barely wide enough for one car to fit through comfortably, while others were designed primarily for foot traffic. The entire city was built up around Oxford University, one of the oldest educational institutions in the world, and the second oldest university in Europe. Different colleges were dotted around, some with walkway bridges over the roads to provide students a safe way to cross from building to building. The crowning glory of the university though, in Hermione’s opinion, was the Bodleian library system. While each college had their own library, the main Bodleian library, with its thousands of texts and artifacts, was a work of art.
"So tell me more about this… Oxford University and Trinity College," Fleur started. "Of course you know that universities are not something that is common in the Magical world. If you need specialized studies, you work with a Master or specific job training." The blonde hummed, "Though of course I know about the Sorbonne in Paris which is the best university in the world, but all know of the Sorbonne."
"That was such a French statement, I'm not sure what to do with it," Hermione mused. "The University of Oxford is the oldest university in England and second oldest in Europe, behind only the University of Bologna. Those upstarts in Cambridge will disagree, but it is the best University in the country." The brunette sniffed as she thought of her alma mater's rivals The University of Cambridge; she hadn't really thought about the rivalry, but old habits die hard. It was the same for football. She might not live in Liverpool anymore, but she would continue to hate ManU until her dying days. The intellectual rivalry between Oxford and Cambridge was the same.
"The University was established in the 11th century, and then fully endowed in the 13th century, after that point, different colleges were created for learning and intellectual pursuits, the oldest of which are Balliol and Merton colleges, both established later in the 13th century."
“Ah, Oxford is set up with the college system oui?” Fleur inquired. “Different students attend different colleges all under the… umbrella of the university.”
“Yes, each college basically operates on its own, with students, faculty, administration, libraries, dormitories, meal plans, etcetera, etcetera. They’re closely knit communities, multi-disciplinary, you can barely move without running into someone having a debate about something.”
"So Balliol and Merton are the oldest, are they the most prestigious?"
"No, I think that's… St. John's possibly… Balliol is actually Trinity College's biggest rival because they're our closest neighbors." Hermione pointed to a large building next to them, "That's Balliol college, and Trinity College is just down the road."
They passed by an iron palisade and crossed through blue gates, and Fleur got her first view of Trinity College. The buildings had a distinctly late Medieval style, something that you would expect to find at an old university. “Trinity College was built on the site of the old Durham College. When the college was discontinued and the land given to the crown, it was purchased to create a new college. The original buildings were built in the late Medieval/ Romanesque style, and others were added during the Baroque period. Recent updates and construction has tried to keep the buildings within these same style patterns.”
“It’s beautiful,” Fleur murmured as she took in the old buildings and manicured lawns. “Did you always want to attend this college?”
“I knew Oxford was the plan when I was a little girl, Hogwarts and magic was just a side issue that helped to explain all of the weird things that happened around me,” the brunette replied. “Can you believe I managed to study for my A levels while running an illegal defense club at school and dealing with a pink toad with delusions of grandeur?” Hermione snorted at the ridiculousness that was her life. “As to your question, Trinity College wasn’t always my first choice. When I was younger, my Dad wanted me to go to Balliol College and my Mom was pushing for St. John’s…” Her voice trailed off as she thought about her parents, but she shook her head. “Trinity College seemed like the best fit,” she finished. “Besides, the Bodleian library is just down the road, and it has a larger collection of materials than the Hogwarts’ library. Not as expansive as the British library, but definitely a large collection for a research library.”
“I’m sorry, Bodleian library?”
Hermione grabbed Fleur’s hand and tugged her back through the gates and pointed across Broad Street. “It’s a bit hard to see from here, but behind Exeter College and the theater is the Bodleian library, the main research library on campus. Each college has their own library, which is very important since you can’t take materials out of Bodley but it still has some of the best and oldest research materials in the country.”
“It is larger than the Hogwarts library you say?” Fleur repeated as they re-entered the grounds of Trinity College. “Hogwarts is one of the best libraries outside of family libraries in Magical Europe.”
“Only the British library is bigger,” Hermione repeated. “Trinity College had another draw, they were used to having titled persons attending school. The current King of Belgium is a graduate of Trinity College.”
“I did see mention somewhere that the status of House of Black was also observed in the non-magical world, but I didn’t know how that came about,” the blonde commented. “Especially considering the views the family had about those with non-magical blood.”
Hermione hummed, “Well, in the magical world, I am Lady Hermione Granger-Black, head of house Black, but in the non-magical world, I am Her Grace Hermione Granger-Black, Duchess of Surrey (1), Marchioness of Woking (2). The history of how the House of Black got that title is rather interesting. The original Duke of Surrey was arrested after Richard II was deposed, and the crown took the title. Apparently a Black ancestor aided the Duke of Gloucester with a great task, so when he became Richard III, King of England, House Black was granted a peerage, a title separate from the magical status.” The woman shot Fleur a look, “I have my theories about what that favor was, particularly concerning the disappearance of his nephews King Edward V and Richard Duke of York…” (3) Her voice trailed off as she saw the puzzled, glazed look on her companion’s face. “You know what, nevermind, it’s not important. We should probably find Grimswaine’s office before we’re late.”
They stepped through the doors of the main building and Fleur was instantly hit by the smell of damp stone. There had been a faint smell outside, the puddles on the ground and water still dripping from the eaves and siding pointed to a passing storm that showered the town the previous night. Students bustled through the corridors, some heading to class, some to the library, and others out of the building either to their dorms, jobs, or other locations unknown. The two women passed a few old statues and suits of armor along the way, images of men who were no doubt either famous alumni of the college or donors who impacted the school in a significant way.
“They need to work on the decor,” Fleur sniffed. “And the constant smell of wet stone.”
“This is England,” Hermione replied. “If the smell of wet stone ever went away, the world would be ending.”
It didn’t take them long to find Dr. Grimswaine’s office tucked away in a dusty corner with other academics. Hermione knocked on the door, and an older, gravely voice bade them to enter. The office was small, smaller than what the brunette expected from an Oxford don, but about the size of what she would expect from a professor that retired and then un-retired. Seniority and research prestige were the most important parts of the higher education profession, so when Grimswaine retired, his office was given to the next ranked professor, and when he returned to teaching, he was given what was left. It was a cozy office though with a few overstuffed armchairs and a desk with an older man typing away at an old fossil computer, carefully pecking one key at a time.
The man looked up, his balding head shone in the dim light, highlighting the tufts of gray hair around his ears, and a short, neatly trimmed beard covered the bottom of his face. A pair of glasses perched on the end of his nose and a tweed jacket with patches on the elbows completed the old, wise professor look. “Ah, Your Grace," he stood up. "And friend of course, do come in, come in, sir down, I do believe I have a few places to sit in my cozy little library here.” He tidied up as best as he could, shifting around a few piles of books to clear more room before standing in front of the two women. “My manners, my manners, apologizes, I am Dr. Thaddeus Grimswaine, which of course you know from my letter.”
“Yes, pleasure to meet you Dr. Grimswaine,” Hermione greeted, sinking into one of the freshly cleared chairs.
The man waved his hand, “Please, please, call me Grim, everyone does, even the students, always have.” He turned his eyes to Fleur, curiosity etched in his features. “And who do we have here?”
“Fleur Delacour,” the Frenchwoman replied, her accent even more pronounced as she spoke. It was a habit she maintained from her teenage years, she always stressed her accent when speaking with a stranger, they always underestimated her if they thought her English was less than perfect, leaving her the element of surprise. "Her Grace and I recently started working together," she added, remembering what Hermione said on how she should be addressed to non-magical people.
“A Frenchwoman? Bonjour !”
“You have a lovely office,” Hermione commented. “Must be a dream for an academic, though probably smaller than what you had before you retired.”
Grim waved his hand and grumped, “Bah, they offered a larger office to me when I returned, retirement wasn’t for me, too boring. Turned them down, didn’t want to be stuck doing small group seminars and lectures, or assisting with grad students. Let the younger ones deal with that. No no, I’m perfectly happy with large introductory lectures that I can do in my sleep, and coming back to my cozy space to work on my research.”
At the word research, Hermione glanced carefully at the books she could see on the floor and near her on the desk. As a Medieval scholar, he naturally had several texts in Latin, though some of the books on his desk were about Celtic languages and sites around the British isles. “You said in your letter that you needed help finding something for your research,” Hermione started. “And that it has the chance to rewrite English history?”
“Yes, yes, right to business, woman after my own heart,” Grim chuckled. “When I retired a few years ago, I threw myself into my research and hoped to search for this myself, but I’m not as spry as I used to be and I found I needed access to materials here at Oxford. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, I needed to find this item to complete my research, but I couldn’t go look for it. But then, I read an article about how you found the flag carried by Jeanne D’Arc into battle, reportedly lost in her last battle before she was captured and put on trial, and I realized that you were just the one to help me.”
“What is it that you need found?” Hermione asked. “And how could it change English history?”
“Ah, to explain that, we’ll have to take a little excursion,” Grim replied. “Very sorry about that, but it was easier to get you to meet me in my office than try to find me elsewhere.” He stood from his desk and moved to the coat rack next to his door. The professor pulled a jacket over his tweed suit, tugged a flat cap down on his head, and grabbed an umbrella from the stand, fully completing the old Oxford don stereotype. “Ladies, if you would be so kind as to follow me?” He opened the door and the two women followed him out of the office and back the way they came out of the building.
“Now, Your Grace, I specialize in the Medieval Histories of England, specifically studying the historians that came before me,” the man started. “That said, what do you know of Geoffrey Monmouth?”
The brunette glanced over at her blonde companion as they were walking before answering his question. “Not much,” she replied. “I know that he was a Medieval… historian, and he wrote a compendium on the history of the Kings of Britain.”
“You have the majority of the information that is significant about him except one thing,” Grim replied. “ De gestis Britonum is one of the earliest mentions of King Arthur in a historical textt.”
“King Arthur as in Camelot and the knights of the round table?” Fleur questioned.
“The very one, one of Britain’s most famous legends,” Grim continued, waving his umbrella. “Geoffrey isn’t the first one to record mention of an ‘Arthur’ figure but he was the first one to identify him as a king of old. It has never really been proven whether Arthur was indeed a king, or even a real person, especially since much of Geoffrey’s book has been discredited, though I feel that is less Geoffrey’s research and more the materials to prove it have been lost to time.” His voice trailed off for a moment and then he shook his head, “Anyway, writings that came after Geoffrey’s book added to the legend of Arthur, and soon people wanted him to be real, a chivalric King of old, a true hero that served as a Christ-like figure for generations of people, it’s quite poetic really.”
Hermione hummed, “I’m guessing this has something to do with why you asked us here?”
"Did you know that Geoffrey spent much of his time researching this book here at Oxford, in the early days of the university before that lesser school Cambridge broke off from it? Before it really became a university anyway, and most of his work was conducted in the old cathedral and abbey while the school was being established. Before I retired, I found something when I was conducting my research on Geoffrey, and I hoped to be able to investigate further on my own, but well…” He tapped his umbrella on his legs. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“So where are we headed?” The brunette woman asked.
“Right over there,” Grim pointed with his umbrella. “Old Bodley herself. Tell me, did you ever get card access for the rare book room while you were here?”
“Unfortunately no, just access to the reading rooms, and I haven't had time to renew it since I graduated.”
“Ah, well…” Grim replied. “I’ll have to speak to the head curator about gaining temporary access. Time is of the essence and now that you’re here, I wouldn’t want to waste such a valuable resource.”
Hermione dropped back to speak with Fleur while Grim sped up towards the building, moving pretty quickly for someone who claimed he was too old for such excitement. “You didn’t bring your wand did you?” Hermione asked, her voice low.
“I always have my wand in my wand holster strapped to my arm,” Fleur replied. “I am a trained cursebreaker and Hit Witch after all.”
“Make sure your concealment charms are tight around it,” Hermione told her. “Security at Bodley is no joke, especially if we’re going to one of the rare book rooms.”
Fleur cocked her head, “What do you mean?”
“You’ll see.”
“ Merde, it was easier getting into Palace Versaille than getting into this library,” Fleur groused as she straightened her clothes after going through security. She grabbed the key they had given her for the locker that housed the meager bag of possession she had brought with her for their trip to Oxford.
“Sorry about that,” Grim said, an amused expression on his face. “That level of security is really only for the rare book rooms, the regular reading rooms have much lighter security.”
“You still have to put your things in a locker though,” Hermione added after closing hers. “Notebook, pencil, laptop, and maybe an erasure, that’s what you’re allowed, no pens. I saw one of the fellows attempt to sneak a pen inside when they realized they forgot their pencil, I thought the librarian was going to skin them alive.”
“Probably would have too,” Grim agreed. “If they weren’t concerned the mess would get on the books. Of course, to get into the rare book reading rooms, you need a special access card, which isn’t given to just anybody. It is lucky that the head curator and I are good friends in order to get the two of you into the rare book room. Also helps that the artifacts we’re going to be looking at are ones I discovered, which gives me a little freedom when viewing them, but not much.”
“What documents are we going to be looking at?” Hermione asked, slipping on the gloves provided by the curatorial assistant who entered the room with them.
"Ah, here they are," Grim said as the assistant carefully set the items on one of the tables. "Do you know John of Salisbury?"
"I know that name," Fleur stated. "Where did I see it… A cathedral… ah, Chartres Cathedral?”
“Good memory,” Grim nodded. “Yes, John of Salisbury, or Johannes Parvus as he referred to himself, was the Bishop of Chartres for a time before his death and is marked there. But before even that, he worked for the archbishop of Canterbury, and was penpals of sorts with Geoffrey of Monmouth. He remained penpals even after he left Canterbury until Geoffrey’s death in 1155. I was curious about their connection, so after I retired, I spent some time studying in the Canterbury archives until a whim took me to Benevento, where John was in residence until the time of Geoffrey’s death..” He carefully took out a box from the collection tray that was placed in front of them and unwrapped a stack of papers. “Hidden in the archives in Benevento in the section dedicated to the papal rule of the city, I came across these items. A little worn out in areas but still mostly legible.”
Hermione took a careful look at the stacked papers, her extensive knowledge of Latin recognizing a few word patterns and translations. "Is this… a copy of Geoffrey of Monmouth's manuscript?"
"I think it's the original manuscript," Grim stated. "Found it with this letter from Geoffrey himself written to John of Salisbury." He carefully picked up another piece of parchment and set it down in front of Hermione.
“The letter makes sense because it was written to John, but how did he have the original manuscript of the Kings of Britain, if this is indeed the original?”
“Everything in me tells me this is the original,” the man said. “It is hand-written, which was more common before typed print was invented, but it also holds notes and details in the margins that only an original manuscript would have. As for why John of Salisbury had it, what do you know about the death of Geoffrey of Monmouth?”
“Less than I do about the man.”
“He was found dead in his cell at the old abbey that used to be part of the Oxford cathedral,” Grim said. “This letter and these pages were delivered to John of Salisbury in Canterbury shortly after, so it is assumed that Geoffrey sent them before he died. John checked over the manuscript and ensured its publication in honor of his departed friend, but made some edits of his own. This manuscript lacks those later changes.”
While Hermione looked at the papers more closely, Fleur took the time to study their surroundings and the man who had contacted them. Thaddeus Grimswaine, it was an unusual name, not one she expected to find in the non-magical world, but then she had never really paid attention to many names she encountered while dealing with her non-magical counterparts in the French government. Their names could have been just as unusual and she wouldn’t have known. She watched as he and Hermione continued to go over the manuscript in front of them, both going back and forth about historical facts and information present about the book and the people they were discussing. She questioned his claim about being too old to go hunting down whatever he wanted them to find; he seemed active and animated enough while speaking, but that wasn’t an indicator of physical activity.
The thought of physical activity sent her mind wandering again and her gaze strayed unbidden to Hermione. Images danced through her mind, images she had no control over that pulled heat to her cheeks, and sent her heart thumping out of rhythm. It was… she didn’t know of the right word in any of the languages she knew that described the feeling that blossomed in her heart at the sight of Hermione fully immersed in her element. Their first adventure together, Fleur was fascinated by the other woman, so intelligent, so strong, she was smitten, she would admit that now. If she hadn’t been so concerned about her family, her people, she would have admitted it then, but now, now she was free to admit she was helplessly fascinated by the other woman. Fascinated, intrigued, bewitched, enough to cause her heart to beat to a different tune, all signs that something more could develop if given care and nourishment to grow. And Fleur desperately wanted it to grow.
“All of this information is fascinating,” Hermione said. “But it doesn’t answer the question of what it is exactly that you want us to look for?”
Grim picked up a single sheet of paper and set it down in front of the brunette. “This is the letter Geoffrey sent to John, I have a translation here. In it Geoffrey references a tome, a book that he used to help him organize his writings on the Arthurian legends, and in this book he believes there was something that could change history as it was known.” He glanced up at the women, “It is my belief that this book contains information that could provide clues to the existence of Arthur.”
“So you want us to… find this book?”
“It’s more than just the book,” Grim replied. “It’s what it could lead to, it could lead to the truth. Historians have long debated the identity of Arthur, and what the legends were based on, and this book could lead to answers, or at least more questions to keep us occupied for at least another hundred years.” He stopped for a moment, his gaze far away, “I guess, Your Grace, what I’m asking is for you to find the truth, in whatever form it comes in.”