Chapter Text
Hermione sat in a plush office chair, reviewing her mail in her personal library. Never had she been more pleased to take up such a mundane task after her hellish workweek.
She had nothing on her agenda more pressing than sorting bills and throwing out junk mail for at least the next 48 hours, and she was looking forward to it. All right, more accurately, she was looking forward to writing back to Fleur, made all the more evident as she flung aside a Ministry envelope to tear open the one from her friend.
A strong friendship had flourished between them, despite the two witches juggling busy post-war careers. After the immediate chaos that still seemed to persist even after Voldemort was vanquished, (funerals mostly, and retrieving her parents), she ended up talking to Fleur more about what had happened at Malfoy Manor, and thanking her formally for healing her. Fleur helped her find a licensed physician whom Hermione saw for her PTSD, someone she fortunately had not wished to strangle for being patronizing, or slap for being oblivious and impersonal. It was difficult to find a good person to help with a mental issue, especially since she was famous, and the media could easily slap an “unstable and damaged” label on her. It was somewhat odd that it was the first thing they bonded over, but she was surprisingly relaxed about it. Like Fleur alone had been preternaturally equipped to help her deal with all of it, not just the physical wounds, but the ones that lingered afterward.
They wrote to each other all through the rest of her 7th year, and currently they met for coffee, tea, lunch, whatever could be squeezed into schedules that required a lot of travel. It was nice however, to use work as an excuse to stay over at each other’s residence when a given project was nearby.
She saw Harry fairly often as well, when he wasn’t out on Auror duty, exercising his savior complex, and Ginny too, when she wasn’t playing quidditch. She put up with Ron if a large gathering called for it. She wished him well and hoped he was a far less mediocre Auror than he’d been a student and friend, but from a significant distance. Luna was also present in her life and a good friend, but Fleur by far elicited the most excitement, whenever they were able to make time for each other.
Fleur's life, meanwhile, had gone on reasonably calm after the war. She and Bill decided to end their relationship before anyone really got hurt. Part of her knew that it was because she wanted to find her mate and he was not that person, but she was honestly not in any hurry.
Gabby had recently met hers, someone that Fleur had not yet had the pleasure of meeting, since her younger sister had been reasonably secretive about the woman's identity. But Fleur understood, Apolline - their mother - could be extremely offhand about inappropriate conversations in inappropriate places. Their mother had few limits when it came to her daughters, which generally resulted in two extremely embarrassed young veela. Despite her sister's success in finding great love, this was not something that Fleur actively sought. She had her job and her friends, and no desire to compromise that, at least for now.
She loved her job, she liked the thrill of uncovering old coffers and breaking complex curses. Interestingly, she and Bill, even after the breakup, were still great partners in the field. Bill had brute strength while Fleur had the grace of a dancer, with fluid and adaptable magic. The two formed one of the most exceptional teams Gringotts employed for being fearless and daring in their assignments.
Fleur avoided the Weasleys’ home, not only because of Molly's perpetual look of displeasure with her, but also because even with so many years passed, Ron remained susceptible to her thrall, and it was completely uncomfortable. Everyone who lived with Veela in the long run became immune, but Ron continued on with silly speeches and dreamy looks, so Fleur always dodged gatherings with him and Molly.
Hermione was still a great surprise for Fleur, a now-woman, who was smart, witty, and fun to be around. Probably one of her favorite people to talk to about the shenanigans of her work, since Hermione not only liked the stories, but she helped the blonde unravel the mysteries of the enchantments and spells she faced daily. Hermione presented a new take on an old line of work, and even if the Gryffindor denied it, she would probably be exceptional at unraveling the mysteries of Gringotts' treasuries.
But Hermione was a scholar, and as an old soul, she tended to like old things. When the brunette migrated to magical archaeology, it was not really a shock, being an expert in ancient runes and now fluent in several languages such as French - courtesy of Fleur, and Bulgarian - courtesy of Viktor Krum, as Hermione had a propensity for feverishly absorbing new knowledge.
Both Fleur and Hermione had an affinity for the mysteries of the ancient world, one of the things that most connected them in the many letters they exchanged. They told each other stories, and gradually became extremely close. An international Floo connection was established between their homes in Britain and France that alleviated some of the distance. All the same, Fleur felt that their schedules prevented them from seeing each other more often than they would like, certain she and Hermione were on the same page in that regard, but they simply had to make do.
Henceforth, it was always a balm after a busy day whenever Hermione received letters from Fleur. The messages, even though simple and short (which they normally weren't) always caused Hermione's heart to warm and a smile to appear on the brunette's lips.
At present, she set a letter back on her desk as she contemplated its contents. It was nice that Gabrielle had apparently found her mate, though Hermione wasn’t entirely familiar with what that meant for a Veela. She presumed Fleur could elaborate the next time they saw each other in person, barring any particular details she shouldn’t be privy to as a non-Veela, of course. Apolline was probably beside herself, and Hermione hoped she wasn’t smothering the younger Veela too much. The sisters’ mother seemed to possess a disconcerting ability to both read and intimidate people exceptionally well, frequently at the same time. Hermione began to wonder what Fleur thought of the matter beyond her reporting it to Hermione. She highly doubted that the older sister was jealous of her sibling, and pondered what Fleur thought of herself being in the same situation. She didn’t appear to be in a hurry to find her match, since most of her time was spent working, and when she wasn’t doing that, she was more often than not with Hermione.
The Gryffindor realized that she had somewhat inadvertently placed herself in a perpetual on-call status with her close friend, almost always on standby for a Fleur related issue or outing. She knew why that was, of course, just not quite how easily it had seemed to manifest into reality. Fleur hadn’t seemed especially preoccupied with the need to date; and Hermione supposed she was simply preoccupied with Fleur. She hadn’t been able to convince herself to bring up the topic with the blonde, either dating in general or herself finally formally asking Fleur out. Sometimes her friend was excruciatingly difficult to read, and she wished she could borrow Apolline’s intuition when it came to her daughter.
With Gabrielle now finding her partner, perhaps Hermione could slip it into conversation, especially if she could mask her inquiries with whatever knowledge she was allowed to glean about Veela-mates. She could be sneaky. Probably. Probably maybe? Hermione didn’t really think she was exceedingly obvious with her feelings, but then again, Ginny seemed certain that the brunette fluctuated from comically unsubtle to stubbornly analytical when it came to her attraction to women, or determining if they were attracted to her.
She mentally stuck her tongue out at an imaginary Ginny, pulling some parchment out of a desk drawer for a reply to Fleur. A tap on her window interrupted, and she rose from her chair to receive a new missive from a large owl. She gave it a treat, and left it to decide when it was ready to depart by leaving the window ajar near the owl-mail perch. She noted with curiosity that the handwriting was Viktor’s, and promptly detached the wax seal.
Dear Hermione,
I hope this letter finds you well. I know this is another message from me before you’ve had a chance to respond, but the Bulgarian ministry has asked me to find a consultant. I’ve been informed of some strange, magical occurrences happening within the Rhodope mountain range, and it’s quite possible runes and wards are involved. Some muggles have noticed various eruptions of magical activity, since the area is laden with many hiking tour groups and the like that pass through the gorges and valleys. We’ve cordoned off a fairly large area with an illusion charm since we’ve yet to determine the scope of the problem. We are sort of creating a map as we go, so if you are able to look into this, I can Floo to your flat to pick you up, where we can then Floo once again to the apparition point the Ministry has established. There are a few additional locations I need to show you beyond the site of activity, so we may be expending a fair bit of magic while you get a sense of the environment. I understand if this is too last minute for you to consider, but I did tell the Ministry I’d ask the best witch I know.
Yours,
Viktor
Well, thought Hermione, so much for a truly relaxing weekend. She put down the second most important letter on her desk next to the first.
All right, rationally she knew it wasn’t, Fleur certainly didn’t need constant supervision because of unstable magic, nor was she a danger to unguarded muggles. It was just the inevitable stomach-flip that arrived with anything linked to Fleur, which was plainly still in effect here, regardless of the multitude of letters she received quite regularly. Alas, this situation in Bulgaria seemed too intriguing to let pass, and she did not want to deny a friend help if she was able, in spite of the glee she’d felt at the prospect of asking for some of Fleur’s free time this weekend. She scripted a short reply to Viktor and attached it to his owl, which was conveniently still lingering in her office. She patted it gently before sending it on its way. Viktor was still a full-time quidditch player, but had taken breaks in between sports seasons to obtain a Mastery in Transfiguration, and now was called on occasionally to assist his Ministry, often in international concerns. This was obviously one of those times.
Hermione also wrote a brief message to Fleur informing her of her new and sudden assignment, before making a list of things to pack. She’d have to do a bit of geographical research, muster some supplies for camping and the like, as well as squeeze in some rest. For this night however, she was looking forward to throwing on some pajamas, diving into bed, and stealing as many hours of sleep as she could.
*******************
Hermione was positive she’d already hit the criteria for having a “long day” on her first day. The fact that she’d anticipated this to some degree mitigated a big drop in her mood at least. Once Viktor had stepped out of her fireplace, decked out in hiking gear, he’d insisted they pause a moment for a good breakfast while holding up a bag of treats, so Hermione threw together any extras from her own fridge. She later agreed that it had been better than the meager slice of toast and small cup of tea she’d prepared initially. Hours upon hours later, she was glad she had been properly fed and caffeinated.
At the time, Viktor apologized for the rush of officials and bits of paperwork he’d need to throw at her, promising he arranged their agenda so they could blaze through the bureaucracy as quickly as possible. After that, they’d grabbed lunch on the run, and had been hiking at a casual pace for some time on obvious paths ground smooth by countless humans. He’d given her a map marked with both magic and ink, logging their journey thus far, and marking places appropriate for apparition.
The quidditch player began regaling her with various location tidbits as they continued hiking their way to the site. He was certain that Hermione had done her research, but he figured he might as well somewhat perform as the guide he had been designated.
“They are the seventh tallest mountain range in Bulgaria, and extend into Greece, which amount to about ten percent of the ranges. The mountains consist of a complex, complicated network of separated ridges and deep gorges, covered by green meadows and large coniferous woods. The motif of the region is a flower, the Rhodopean Silivryak,”
“Haberlea Rhodopensis,” Hermione chimed in, making Viktor chuckle good-naturedly.
“And otherwise known as the Orpheus flower,” he continued without missing a beat. “There is usually skiing in the winter at the resort around Mt. Orpheus, but I think mountain biking and hiking are the most popular activities here. The trails network is vast, but not all are maintained equally,” he added as a warning. “Though I suspect you will probably be too engrossed in your work to venture too far at the moment.”
“I’ll be sure to plan a trip back to properly explore,” Hermione replied. “It’s really beautiful out here,” she remarked, gesturing to the green slopes around them. She reckoned these must have been akin to some of the hills Julie Andrews had been singing so ardently about (yes, Hermione loved musicals, and yes, Fleur indulged her).
After about another twenty minutes of walking, Viktor steered them into a valley. The terrain had become more varied, with smatterings of small and large rocks, fallen logs, short bushes, and no clear-cut paths to traverse for some time.
“I’m guessing there have been magical beacons that you’ve been following this whole time?” Hermione asked. Their journey had been too complicated for someone to simply memorize in such a short amount of time, given the recentness of the magical flare-ups.
“Oh yes,” Viktor replied. “I’m certainly not that an experienced tracker as of yet. Thank you for reminding me actually. May I see your wand for a moment?” Hermione handed it over, and Viktor tapped his own against it with a short incantation recited under his breath. He handed it back to Hermione and said, “My apologies, I should’ve done that earlier. Your wand is now attuned to them, and you can cast a reveal spell to spot them. Another thing also marked on the map I gave you.”
“Thank you.”
About thirty meters below the line they were on, he said “This is where we’ve placed an illusion around the suspected area, so muggles shouldn’t spot us poking about, as an extra precaution. Though we’re definitely way off trail as it is. Unfortunately, we don’t really have any idea regarding the dimensions of the space causing the problems, we’ve placed protection enchantments with our best estimates. No one has noticed any pattern yet with the instances of magic. Now that you’re here, any other ministry officials will focus on keeping muggles out and ameliorating any collateral damage caused by stray magic.” That was another bit of intel Hermione hadn’t had a chance to study yet within the info dump she’d already been trying to stay on top of today.
Viktor tore open a space in the illusion in front of them, essentially drawing out the shape of a door with his wand. They stepped through, and found themselves looking upon some ruins. Hermione grew excited by the sight, and felt her energy build.
"I do hope you’ve retained all I’ve taught you about our language. Since I’ve been telling you that a lot of what we know of this place has been marked on there, you’re going to be referring to it a lot," He said playfully, alluding to their past lessons when he had taught Hermione to decipher some maps in Bulgarian. She rolled her eyes and said "Oh, come off it, you prat. You know well that I have," He chuckled and pulled her into a hug.
They broke apart when they suddenly heard the cracks of a strong thunderstorm, immediately scanning the area but seeing nothing in their vicinity, only hearing the deafening sounds ringing throughout the area. The weather was as it had been all day, pleasant and sunny. They drew their wands at the same time, Viktor quickly casting shielding charms over the both of them. Hermione shot him a brief glance of thanks, taking several cautious steps forward. After a few seconds of tense waiting, neither of them happened to be struck with lightning.
Hermione gave a half shrug, and strode ahead towards a neat array of marked tree trunks. The sound of thunder continued to resonate periodically, but the witch and wizard did not jump. Viktor searched their surroundings once more, while Hermione peered at the runes carved into the wood, “These are avoidance wards, each increasing in degree of intensity, but they’ve all been disabled.” She cast a diagnostic spell. “Removed well before whatever is going on here was detected by your ministry, I cannot pinpoint when for certain. But quite a long time ago, I can say. ...Hmm, how interesting,” she mused aloud.
Viktor moved to stand next to her and asked, “What’s interesting?” still with part of his attention on alert for any other surprises.
“Well, all the trees are perfectly sized, their dimensions are the same, and they’re planted in the ground symmetrically. As a sort of ‘GO AWAY’ sign, it’s very obvious. Whoever deactivated the wards certainly barged right in here, and as you said, we’re pretty far from the main muggle roads, so whatever is over here has a lot of natural cover from the density of the trees. Let’s see if we can find the entrance or door.”
After Hermione had shared her observations with Viktor, they realized the sounds of the thunderstorm had ceased.
“Have the other events lasted for a similar amount of time?” Hermione asked.
“So far minutes or hours. There was a light show two days ago that shone and shimmered for three hours, then eventually vanished. It was fortunate that no shapes manifested, dragons or whatever else. It was rather like the aurora borealis,” he added as an afterthought.
Hermione absorbed that quietly, and they continued to walk until the space in front of them seemed to shimmer, like the surface of a bubble. She dismissed it easily, and said, “Someone threw up a hasty illusion spell, but didn’t bother reinstating the avoidance wards on their way out.”
They found themselves standing at the edge of what was probably a town square. A ruined fountain rested in the middle of the area, and the perimeter was lined with broken stone pieces of various sizes, and cracked wooden chunks. Actually, the cracked and splintered wood was littered everywhere, Hermione observed, as her gaze swept the area, and not all of the damage had been inflicted the same way. Some seemed to have broken with brute physical force, others were burned, and yet even more seemed to have rotted. She removed her travel backpack, brandished her wand once again, and began inspecting the ruins. The stone pieces lying around were of the same type that she had seen around the Bulgarian Ministry’s boundary.
It was pretty clear that some sort of magical battle had taken place here, and something strange and powerful enough lingered to cause those magical disturbances within a significant radius. As she continued to examine the wreckage, and catalogue the types of damage, Hermione noticed that a lot of the wooden pieces seemed to have once been part of ornate structures. Many planks of wood had beautiful arabesque patterns inscribed, various flowers, or were simply shaped elegantly almost as if from clay. There on the front of a door, or a broken chair, even on something as mundane as a table. The most common image by far that she had encountered seemed to be bird-like in theme and appearance. She resolved to sketch many of the patterns and designs to the best of her ability before she left.
Viktor had been conducting his own survey, and had concluded more or less the same things Hermione had. They met at the fountain and peered around once more. She picked up a piece of a statue that must have adorned the fountain, looking at a bust of what was the humanoid avian creature she’d spotted images of. It was made of wood, but after a tap of her wand, she realized it had been enchanted to withstand weather effects, especially the water it would have been placed above. The fountain looked as if it had originally been an interesting mix of wood and stone, and she wondered if it had even been painted in some parts.
Hermione circled the remains of the fountain, picking up the wooden pieces comprising the figures that would’ve been joined over the diameter, and grouping them on the ground together. A hefty portion had been pulverized so the ring was broken, but as she circled the structure, she sighted something new. There was an inscription etched at the edge of the loop, and she knelt on the ground and eagerly examined the script.
“Well holy shite” She blurted out after a moment. Viktor moved around to her side of the fountain.
“What have you found?”
“This looks like Veela! The text, I mean. That would explain the bird motif too, actually.”
“Veela writing? You’re sure?” He asked skeptically.
“Well, I’m no expert, but I’ve been able to sneak enough glimpses at the script. I’ve visited Fleur’s family in France a few times now, and I’ve been quite curious, and it’s just such a unique sound when spoken aloud. Anyway, I managed to endear myself enough to her grandmother, so that she didn’t hex me the moment I tried to ask questions about their language, and she graciously explained a few things to me. I could probably ask Fleur to come take a look at this properly. And if Veela are related well, her people will certainly want to know about it, especially since we’ve got the issue with the magical surges as well.”
“It couldn’t hurt to have her take a look,” Viktor responded pensively, standing up and glancing at the time. “Well, I can go ahead and deliver our preliminary report to the Ministry, so they’ll have something before evening. I’ll mention the possibility of a Veela assisting in the investigation.”
“I can set up camp for the night, and visit Fleur tomorrow. If you’re going to head back, can you owl her a quick note for me?”
“You are certain about staying here?”
“Of course, I had planned on it. I’ve bought everything I need, and I’ll cast an evasion charm in case of any stray lightning storms. But it seems like the events are very well randomized from what you tell me. Besides, it’d be good to observe the environment overnight, if I can.”
"All right. If you need me, I'm just a patronus away. You have that muggle satellite phone as well, right? Do you need help setting up your gear?”
“Yes I’ve got the phone, if I find myself needing to use it, I think I can make a call from just outside the tree wards. But I’m fine with setting up on my own, thank you. It’s been a long day, but I should be able to manage quickly, and I think I can scout some more before turning in. One other thing however, if Fleur is able to assist, and this is a Veela site, it may become difficult for you to help, but we’ll see. Thanks for your help today as well, Viktor.”
“Vie ste dobre doshŭl. Take care tonight, Hermione. I will send a message to Fleur, and we will talk soon.”
“Til tomorrow, Viktor.” She bid him good night, and the man turned on his heel and started walking for the exit of the settlement, as he’d have to reach a safe spot to apparate.
Things seemed to be developing fascinatingly. Needless to say, she was also hoping Fleur would be available to collaborate. She was suddenly pleased Viktor had come to her with this opportunity, and was gratified she had put in the effort to maintain a friendship.
Ron for whatever reason was still disgruntled about this, but the brunette just ignored it. She was getting awfully tired of Ron’s unsolicited opinions. Viktor was a good friend; they often exchanged letters and anecdotes, and visited each other when possible. Viktor had taught Hermione a lot about history, Bulgaria, dark spells, and was mostly just a good, reliable friend when the war ended. They knew what it was like to have suffered torture (whether or not he tortured himself for Cedric's death), so they found mutual support in each other.
*****
After making a snack and setting up her magical tent, Hermione did a sweep of the rest of the area in her vicinity. She used an enchanted quill to sketch the area as she went, adding to her list of observations. Even if Fleur were unavailable to help, nearby clan Elders would want a few members to do a comprehensive evaluation of the site. Moreover, it appeared as though there might have been disturbances in the detritus triggered by other explorers, but she’d like a second opinion before declaring as much.
So far Hermione hadn’t found a sign pointing to the source of the bursts of magic, and any ozone would have dissipated by the time they reached the square, if the lightning had struck there. She would try to verify if the reaction radius held a pattern, or if it was entirely random, and continue the ministry’s data logging efforts. That was likely going to be her primary focus here anyway, and to determine whether any Veela-inherent magic might be connected. There was an abundance of history here to unearth, and she was excited to learn what she could even if her time here did not play out in quite the same way as her typical projects.
Her most interesting find thus far was what once had been a library. It was a square structure constructed from a natural cave. Two heavy, elaborate wooden doors greeted her, which she opened with a calculated surge of magic, and upon entering, she immediately noticed that the air inside felt crisper and sharp, for no reason she has determined yet. The space had been left shut tight and light-less, so she planted a trail of her little blue flames as she explored. The stone walls were lined with shelves, the ceiling about fifteen feet high. Inside were also four identical classrooms, each with a raised lectern that stood some 3 feet off the floor. Each room seemed to hold objects and texts related to a given magic discipline and its application, though these supplies were sparsely scattered. There were also an assortment of study cubicles attached to each room, which included a desk and chair. Additionally, there were two infirmary chambers in the library situated across from each other, presumably in case of any accidents occurring during spell casting practice.
North of the entrance to the library was a five-foot wide circular shaft, with a wooden cover depicting what Hermione now assumed to be a transformed Veela. She studied the seal; cover, whatever it was, thoroughly. She swept her wand over it, and detected two overlapping magical fields. One seemed to be emitting from the wood itself, as if it was enchanted or had been fashioned and molded with magic. There other was…. More complicated. She isolated the magical signature, and tried another analytic spell. It seemed as though there were three runes embedded within each other, but the boundaries of the spells were interwoven and were difficult to trace and separate. Moreover, there seemed to be more Veela text inscribed in the wood. She could discern bits of Bulgarian interspersed with the text, but she certainly wasn’t going to be able to translate it all completely on her own.
She stepped back for a moment, considering her options. She had planned to sleep relatively early, since she had a bit of travelling to do to get to her impromptu meeting with Fleur, and delivering her pitch to gain said blonde’s cooperation with this survey. Unraveling the layers here would likely not be so trivial. Then again, if she packed it in early, she suspected she was too invested now and would sleep fitfully, mulling over the rune trap and imagining was what was in the space beyond.
She decided to go for it. Alone, disabling the trap might result in a damaged wooden cover, but once she had a better understanding of its in-built magic, she was confident she could repair it. Hermione sat down against the back wall of the library next to the warded entrance, and focused on one of the spell filaments. She patiently traced it until she met its inscription. It turned out to be the damage released if the trap was disturbed, which was a localized electrical discharge aimed to bombard the intruder. That was certainly something to avoid, needless to say. The next thread led her to conclude that the trap was rigged to affect non-Veela, and the last outlined its direction and execution.
Hermione pondered what she’d observed, and decided that disabling the interwoven runes would be too difficult and time-consuming. She needed to expend the rune effects, and somehow remove the wooden cover. She resolved to rewrite some of the glyphs imbuing the runes with power, altering its target and instead causing the damage to implode into the shaft. She practiced the motions and edits off to the side with as much precision as she could muster, and turned back to her target with a deep breath. Carefully and calmly, she implemented the magic, and scrambled away as far as she could get…When a few, scant seconds later, there was a series of sharp sizzling noises followed by resounding cracks, and a final boom as the wood split and crashed down to the ground at the bottom of the opening.
Hermione crept back over to the newly opened pit, holding her lit wand aloft as she leaned over the dark abyss, which had to be well over fifty feet deep. Well, shit. She supposed she could secure a rope and wriggle her way down, but hoped for something simpler. First, she ran her light along the circumference of the shaft. Luckily, she spotted an object that looked like a broken valve. Hermione quickly cast reparo and turned it. Metal steps began grinding into view, spiraling down the shaft, providing an easy route down. The brunette cheered quietly to herself and descended the staircase. At the bottom, she used lumos to spot some nearby torches and lit them.
Hermione found herself in a rectangular room about fifty feet long. A short distance in front of her, there loomed a wall that touched the ceiling, and in a brief moment of panic, she thought she may have wound up in a dead-end trap. Angling her lit wand and peering at the sides one after the other, she realized that there were actually two corridors on either side.
She turned her attention back to the wall in front of her, and realized that there was actually a massive painting on its surface. It was clearly magic since it looked like it was transitioning between parts.
The panel began with images of avian creatures with multicolored feathers in blue, purple, gold and silver, dancing around a fire. There was a lunar eclipse in the sky, with the moon encased in red rays. The red light shone between the feathers of some of the creatures, which reminded Hermione for a moment of the mythological Harpies, but these beings were not so exactly similar.
One of the creatures moved to the right, gradually losing its feathers, as if that dance presented in the first part was a ritual, it gradually took on the shape of a humanoid creature of the female form, with silver hair and blue eyes.
The ensuing painting had a circle circumscribed with flower petals, a symbol of the Goddess Gora. She was an ancient goddess, now forgotten, who possessed the gifts of life, earth and growth, known for being the mother of the forest goddess Zashtita and the goddess of the unknown Neizvesten. Gora is the younger and lesser known sister of the gods Belobog and Chernobog, gods of light and dark. The forgotten goddess blessed the creatures, who then came to have the ability to shape the land to their advantage, creating farms and buildings. The image slowly transitioned to a well-structured village of these creatures.
The now humanoid creatures create their own culture, and in the next image there is the development of writing in the painting. Humans are now present, looking fearful and carrying torches towards the creatures’ village. Slowly to the left, a human girl approaches one of the beings, and between the two there evolves a special connection. In the transition to the next painting, the human creature and woman are threatened by humans who begin to develop magical abilities.
A vicious war invades the third painting, destruction and death, the blood of the creatures spilling upon the forest floor. Creatures are painted running to a temple within the village. There, it seems like some magic is being cast, and slowly the doors of the temple close.
The painting's last part is smudged with paint and blood. A circular symbol like an antique Arevakhach symbol, representing the beginning and the end at the same time - the eternity, was splattered and stained with ancient blood, and a blurred hand as if it was a body falling slowly to death, marks the finale of the painting’s tale.
Hermione was puzzled. She contemplated the painting, the bright colors, the magical transitions, and the story behind it. It definitely left an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. When she observed the humans, wizards and witches alike, grow aggressive with magical creatures that were only existing in their own environment, she briefly wondered if hatred of those different was something intrinsic to a human being. She, as a Muggle-born, knew very well how the wizarding world of not so long ago treated her, that she could scarcely imagine the hate and prejudice that had been inflicted upon these creatures. It caused something to light up in Hermione's chest; she was going to unravel this mystery, find out who those people were, and keep that important piece of magical history alive.
The brunette pulled out a leather notebook from her pocket. She would later have to report on her findings, and for that she needed to write down whatever she found. She let out a little laugh as she remembered the old police films she watched with her father, intensely muscular detectives taking notes with a cigarette perched between their lips. She smiled to herself and pulled out a muggle pen. Invariably much more practical than feather quills!
As the Gryffindor didn’t have an artistic bone in her body, she described with as much detail as possible everything she had seen so far, from the wards on the trees, the illusory barrier at the entrance, the fountain, and especially the library. She mentally measured the place, almost like counting steps, which gave her a rough estimate of the size of the places she’d uncovered so far.
She then decided to retreat for now, exited the library and ventured outside, trying to identify anything and everything that hinted at what that building was. She saw worn out paintings in blue, green, and some in orange, in the (now) evening light. Clearly these people had a preference for colors. A second after the thought occurred, Hermione tripped over something lightly buried in the ground. She crouched down and pulled out what she assumed was a piece of wood. The brunette ran her hand over the object to remove some of the soil, and felt her eyes widen. It was a doll. Carved out of wood and in good condition, it was simply a bit dirty and slightly cracked due to exposure to the weather. Still quite identifiable as a wooden doll. It was a female figure, with long hair and some kind of dress, and it was likely someone's toy. Hermione smiled at that thought, then frowned slightly when she realized that only prejudice would cause the end of that painting to happen. The brunette felt acutely sorry about everything that had happened in this place, especially because all signs pointed to hatred.
Suddenly, a stream of cold air swept through her, making her shiver and leaving the strange sensation of feeling observed in some way. The Gryffindor pulled out her wand, and scanned her surroundings warily. She momentarily felt hyper-aware that she was in unfamiliar territory, and that she was at a disadvantage. Hermione resolved to be extra cautious for anything that might turn out hostile. However, as quickly as the cold current appeared, it vanished, and she felt herself slowly relaxing again with the comfortable warmth of the sun. Spring was coming, and would finally ease the cold that still lingered morning and night, so that abrupt gust of icy wind seemed rather out of place.
Regardless, Hermione continued her walk around the site. She noticed that the construction was so well done that buildings became almost difficult to date, and she would have to utilize more analytical techniques. She did however, take some samples of the surrounding stones, especially a small splinter from the library to try to find a way to date it. Her thoughts migrated to Fleur; the blonde had explained that Veela were as old as magic, and therefore this place must be as old as the Veela legends. It was a milestone for Hermione, and she knew that regardless of whether public recognition would come or not. Fleur however, would be thrilled with this discovery, and that thought pleased her much more than the potential of any professional accolades.
The archaeologist paused her stroll to sit on a bench made of wood. She looked down at the structure for some time, and nowhere did she find anything that resembled a definite wooden joint. In fact, it seemed as though the bench had been born out of the ground just like that. This left the young witch intrigued and absolutely curious. However, determined not to interfere with the environment, she just focused on taking notes. She had many thoughts to put in order, especially regarding the paintings. They told the story of some kind of magical clan that Hermione was reasonably convinced might have been a subdivision of Veela, or a kind of magical creature from the same magical family such as the Siren or Harpies. But something told Hermione that she was in a kind of Samodiva village - who were known as the Veela's predecessors. She made sure to include everything about the forgotten Goddess.
*************
After composing an exhaustive account of events thus far, Hermione returned to her campsite to fix herself a sandwich and some chamomile before getting ready for bed. She set her alarm and drifted off to sleep; feeling accomplished, and dreamt of introducing Fleur to the breadth of history still waiting to be uncovered in the settlement.
*********
Hermione woke slowly, prodded into wakefulness by the niggling feeling creeping down her spine that something had gone awry. She shifted slightly, noting that her body seemed to be responding sluggishly. Had she fallen asleep on top of her blankets? She opened her eyes blearily, and took a moment to orient herself. No, she was definitely tucked in…her eyes widened as she realized her breath was steaming right in front of her, and that the temperature had dropped quite drastically.
Not enough for her to suffer hypothermia, but sufficient to induce her to cast some charms and further secure her tent. She did so on her bed and blankets, stuffed her feet into her boots and went to look outside her tent. Everywhere she could crane her neck to see had been blanketed with pristine white snow, which reflected the moonlight incandescently. She re-ignited her nearby fire pit with a security charm as a safeguard, and deftly melted away the snow intruding upon her tent with some well-placed incendio spells. She then summoned a chair and blanket, and decided to see if she could wait out the effect, noting the time was 0057.
The second time Hermione awoke, she jolted upright as if she’d been physically struck. She gathered that she had dozed off sitting by the entrance to her tent, attempting to obtain a rough estimate for the length of time the snow lasted, because now she was treated to a sort of manic light show coruscating outside her tent. Her fire pit had been extinguished, and the settlement had apparently rearranged itself to exhibit its mirror image. Beams of multicolored light gleamed like undulating waves of water mid-air, but by far the worst thing was the blaring sound of Bulgarian bagpipe music resounding through the area, absolutely booming and impossible to miss. She squinted at her wristwatch and noted the time, 0308. She turned back to the laser show on steroids, glaring balefully, wishing she had the source of the music in sight to incinerate. Her mind lethargically supplied the components of a modified silencing charm with wards that would still alert her to danger encroaching upon her tent, while her personal folk music concert thundered on. The moment she’d mentally organized her charm despite the cacophony, and stood to begin casting, the music ceased.
“Because of course it would,” Hermione said aloud, to no one.
*************
After caffeinating herself extensively at breakfast with her interrupted night of sleep, Hermione trudged out of the Veela settlement proper, walking for about twenty minutes and aiming for an apparition point on her magical map. Fortunately, she managed to avoid getting lost, and it didn't take long for the picturesque little village to appear in front of her. Now with a safe place to be able to apparate, she could ask Fleur for help, and to request back up or resources from the Veela.
The archaeologist gave herself a mental pep talk in order to explain what the hell she had found in that ruined settlement, without it appearing as though the Bulgarian ministry was breaking Veela laws. She had apparated in front of Gringotts and expected to see Fleur quickly, but when she asked for the witch at reception, she was escorted to a set of shared offices. The goblin led Hermione to a table bearing the nameplate 'F. Delacour,’ and ordered Hermione to wait there until the curse breaker arrived. When the woman realized that Fleur was delayed, she pulled a shrunken book from her inner jacket pocket, an old book she was reading slowly. She resized it with a flick of her fingers, and began perusing it intently, ignoring the curious looks of people entering and exiting offices.
When Fleur returned to her station, she came upon an unusual image. Hermione Granger was comfortably seated in her chair, reading a colossal tome on ancient civilizations. Fleur tried to recall as to whether anyone had really warned her about Hermione's presence there today, and she was faced with the fact that no other employee had warned her.
Hermione was a beautiful woman, Fleur was well aware, because after all she was not blind, but beyond that she always considered the brunette's ability to get lost in her reading absolutely adorable. Hermione was frowning while concentrating, her mouth moved subtly with the words she read and her left hand gestured minutely as if she were actually reading to someone.
She moved towards her friend, but the young woman didn’t notice her. Fleur then cleared her throat, and that was when brown eyes shot up and focused on blue ones. Hermione practically leapt from the chair, and blushed when it wobbled and slid back.
"Fleur! Hi!" Hermione greeted her exuberantly, speaking with heated cheeks. Good Lord Granger, tone it down. She felt herself relaxing gingerly at Fleur's gentle smile.
"Hello, mon amie." Fleur leaned over and pulled the brunette in a short, but firm hug. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Fleur's eyes flashed mischievously and Hermione rolled her eyes at the playful suggestion. “Viktor sent a quick note that you might show up, but nothing else. I thought you had a job with him?”
"Yes, I do, and I need to talk to you about something important, on that job. Nothing dangerous, I promise. Nothing probably, anyway," She said, thinking of her adventure with the rune trap. Her standards were probably a bit skewed after that kerfuffle with Voldemort, however. At Fleur’s concerned look, she continued "Just important, can we speak privately?"
"Of course, please follow me." Despite her initial playful mood, Fleur noted the seriousness in the brunette's eyes, and in quick steps guided Hermione into a meeting room. With a flick of her wand, Fleur locked the door and closed the curtains. "Now, what's ailing you?" The blonde's voice sounded slightly concerned, and at the same time soft.
"So..." Hermione moved to a chair and sat down, waiting for Fleur to do the same. "Viktor, on behalf of the Bulgarian Ministry, hired me to do a preliminary investigation at an ancient archaeology site that the government cordoned off a week or two ago. It’s in the Rhodope Mountains, close-ish to the border with Greece. When we arrived, as Viktor gave me space to work, I started to investigate superficially. Looking for magical traces or something that indicated some type of magical civilization. " Hermione started to speak quickly, showing nervousness the further she went. Fleur grabbed Hermione's hand, which caused the young woman to relax slightly, take a deep breath, and smile softly. "I found writing that I strongly suspect is an ancient Veela language." The last line of information fell heavily on Fleur. "I need help with this, not only to avoid confusion with your clan but also because it is an unfamiliar language, and I fear I may end up activating something that could easily be deflected if only I’m aware of the magical inscriptions." The two looked at each other in silence for a long moment. Hermione saw the gears turning in Fleur's mind, and when the blonde took a deep breath and smiled, Hermione knew her answer.
"Of course I will help you. I will just have to ask the bank for some time off, and then we’ll be ready to go. I believe that by tomorrow I should be free," Fleur responded, feeling excited. Unfortunately as of late, the work at Gringotts had been a little tedious, and going on a new adventure would be undoubtedly fascinating. "I will also notify the coven about this, to avoid international problems."
"I will let Viktor know, and he’ll be our liaison with the ministry." They got up and hugged again. "Meet me at my flat tomorrow morning, and we’ll leave from there. There’s a bit of apparition hopping we’ll have to do, though I’ve already set up a campsite." Fleur nodded, and with a short and smiling 'until later,' they said goodbye.
*******************
The next day was another early start for Hermione, even with the apparition point a manageable twenty minute walk from the site. She wasn’t fully aware of exactly how the natural magic of the place might react to Fleur's (Veela) magic, and she was partly worried about that.
At precisely seven in the morning, the spells surrounding Hermione's flat vibrated with the arrival of a visitor. Even though Fleur could use the Floo, it was very common for the young French woman to knock on the front door of the apartment. Hermione responded promptly when she heard the traditional two knocks, and opened the door to find a grinning blonde.
"You know you can easily just pop in my library, yes?"
"And appear abruptly and unannounced? Such boorishness, I’d never," Fleur teased, and leaned down to kiss Hermione's cheeks three times; cheeks that quickly turned scarlet with the contact. "Bonjour, Hermione."
“Bonjour, Fleur,” Hermione replied, chuckling. “Are we ready to go?" The blonde nodded, and tapped the strap of the backpack she carried. Fleur as a curse breaker was rather savvy on expeditions, and Hermione trusted her totally. Hermione led them out her door and tapped the point of her wand against it, closing and locking down the entire flat quickly. She then extended her arm to Fleur, who promptly grasped it. In mere seconds they felt the pull in their gut, the squeeze as if into a narrow tube, and apparated in the middle of the Veela village.