Three Hallows' Eve || Harmione & Jily

Chapter 9.2

Hermione Granger had been frustrated beyond measure. It was her steadfast belief that the answer to every question she could think to ask could be found in books, if only she looked hard enough for the right one. The problem she was having was that she'd searched through every non-fiction book in the Newbury library that could have been even slightly related to the strange things that had been happening around her. Once she'd exhausted that source with no luck, she'd begged her parents to take her to the Reading library, but after multiple trips there she'd still not found anything relevant.

After that, she'd convinced her parents to take her to Oxford so she could search the public library there too. The trend unfortunately continued though, and so after uncountable trips to various libraries and just as many trips to disbelieving and unhelpful doctors, her parents had gotten in touch with a specialist in children's behaviour in the hopes that they'd be able to shed some light on the matter.

The specialist was due to visit at one o'clock today and Hermione was on tenterhooks. She was excited at the chance to finally get some answers, but the very real possibility that this specialist wouldn't know - or worse, wouldn't believe them - was looming over her like a dark cloud. From the moment she'd woken up, she'd been so antsy that she'd barely been able to stay still, and had started to make her Mum dizzy with her constant getting up to look out of the window to see if they'd arrived yet.

After an hour of nervous fidgeting and pacing, Mum had finally given up and had all but dragged her out of the house and to the local library, which is where she sat now, struggling to concentrate on the book she'd picked up off the shelf: The Many Legends of King Arthur. It was a topic she'd been reading about for the last month and something that she found inexplicably fascinating, but today she'd read the same paragraph four times over because her mind kept wandering with her apprehension.

Geoffrey of Monmouth was a University of Oxford educated cleric and magister (teacher), largely credited as the creator of Merlin in the Arthurian tales, likely taking the tales of Nennius, an eighth-century monk and mystic who wrote tales of a wizard named Myrddin. For his chronicle 'The History of the Kings of Britain', he is considered to be one of the most influential people in regards to the evolution and popularity of the legend of King Arthur and the Knights of the Roundtable.

While she typically preferred reading non-fiction books due to the limitless wealth of knowledge they provided access to, Hermione had found herself gripped by the story behind the legend of King Arthur since she'd stumbled across it tangentially in a book she was reading last month about the Middle Ages in Britain. It was so interesting how the legends were continued for centuries, simply by word of mouth because the majority of people couldn't read, only to be suddenly deemed nonfactual towards the end of the seventeenth century. Beyond that, something about the stories just resonated with her in a completely unfamiliar way.

'Right, come on then sweetie. We'd best be going if we're going to get home and have lunch before our guest arrives.'

Hermione jumped as her Mum spoke to her and snapped her head up to look at her; she'd gotten lost in her thoughts again. She nodded and stood to place the book back on the shelf, but warred with herself before doing so. It looked to be a really interesting book if only she could actually concentrate on it. Maybe I should take it out, she thought, and turned around to find her Mum looking at her with a fond smile.

'Go on, then,' Mum said teasingly, and she raced as fast as was acceptable in a library to the librarian's counter to check out the book. The librarian, Mrs Witz, knew her by name of course, and after some perfunctory small talk about the book, they made their way out to the car.

The drive home did nothing to quell her nerves. Mum tried to ask her about the book she was reading but she was so distracted that she barely even heard the questions. She ended up giving uncharacteristically short answers while staring out of the window to avoid the concerned glances being reflected in the rear-view mirror.

Though she tried to quell it, a question erupted out of her unbidden as they pulled into the driveway of their house. 'What if they don't know what's going on either?' she blurted in a small voice.

Her Mum pulled the handbrake and undid her seatbelt before turning around in the driver's seat to face her. 'I know you want answers, sweetpea, but we need to be ready to accept that there might not be any yet. If that's the case, then we thank them for their time and we go on as we always have. Maybe in the future, it'll turn up in the news, or the episodes will stop. It might just have to be a case of wait and see.'

Hermione sniffled and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She didn't think she could bear it if they had to resort to 'wait and see'. For years she'd been teased and picked on for being too clever, too into books, not pretty enough, and struggling to make friends. It was just a matter of time before she had an episode at school, and then everybody would think she was some sort of freak of nature. 'I just want to know what's going on,' she whispered.

'I know, darling. I know,' her mum cooed. 'If worse comes to worst, and nobody can explain, then we can try to figure it out ourselves. Then maybe, when you're older and we've done plenty of research, you can be the specialist that people call on, and can calm down an upset or scared little girl yourself, yeah?'

She wiped her face again and nodded shakily. 'Okay.'

Lunch today was her favourite: jam sandwiches. With dentists for parents, she didn't often get to eat jam because of the sugar content, but every now and then she got jam on toast or jam sandwiches as a treat or, like today, as a distraction. Dad had gone above and beyond with the shopping this week - not only had he bought her jam, but he'd bought her raspberry jam, which was by far and away the best jam there was.