An Opus Alchymicum Vol 4: The Dæmon's Crucible

A Mark of Darkness

The town of Trollesund, on the southernmost tip of Lapland, was internationally known as The Gateway to the North, and was famed for little else besides. A largely insignificant fishing port, and moderately more important transit point, existed beneath this grandiose title, with the harbour as the centre of life in this remote outpost. It was a place awash with the smell of fish and ozone and the ocean, of exotic smokeleaf and strong ale and vodka, all backed by the soundtrack of cranes and wagons and traders of all sorts who came back and forth through this oft-bustling hub.

It was through this strange cacophony of sights and smells that Hermione and her dæmon led Harry and his dæmon, though in truth it was the dæmons doing the actually leading, with Harry and Hermione trotting along in amiable conversation behind them. And it was conversation that largely focused on the two entities in front of them.

"They're acting very odd, aren't they?" Hermione observed, not for the first time, as she watched Papageno and Marici padding along ahead of them, their strides practically in sync. "It's like they are becoming inseparable."

Harry nodded as he agreed. "I don't know enough about dæmons to guess about it though ... but is it possible for dæmons to become friends with each other, despite how the humans get on?"

"I don't know, I've never really thought about it," Hermione mused. "I mean, in most cases, human and dæmon have to stay together all the time, don't they? So, there isn't really much chance to form separate relationships. They sort of mirror the human response to other people."

"So, if you like someone, you dæmon will like them too?" Harry speculated.

"Yes, usually ... but not always," Hermione explained. "Sometimes, your dæmon can see or feel things in another person that you cant, often by interacting with their dæmon in ways that humans don't sense or understand. So, if a person is lying to you or trying to deceive you ... like pretending to be nice, only to do something nasty later ... your dæmon can sometimes spot that even if you miss it yourself. Pap always did, always knew ... he was really good at that when we were younger."

Hermione coloured slightly and bit her lip in her reticence. Harry looked over at her in powerful pity, knowing that she was talking about her early life, and about things that she had never openly discussed with Harry ... things that he felt a best friend really ought to know.

"You had a bad time, didn't you, in your school before Hogwarts?" Harry asked gently, his tone flecked with anger for the invisible people who might have caused Hermione this anguish. She nodded that he was right. "Tell me."

It wasn't a request or a suggestion ... it was a demand. Hermione carried this as a burden still, and Harry was inviting her to share it with him. She blinked at him a moment, her expression lost and confused, as though she'd never expected anyone to come to her rescue about this, to soothe her of this lingering hurt.

"They ... they were mean to me, the girls in my class," Hermione mumbled shyly, turning away from Harry to tell her story. "Jericho Prep was a private academy, you see, and usually only girls from rich and privileged families went there. It was the sort of place my parents could never afford to send me. Their dental practice is for Domestic Health Authority patients mostly ... what the Muggles in our world would call the NHS ... and though they are modestly well off, they still have to work for a living.

"The fees for a place like Jericho demand a much higher income, and the sorts of kids that go there more often than not can afford for private tutors, too. I didn't have any of that, but my grades were so high in my state school that I was offered a unique scholarship ... one that the Academy only offered out about every ten years or so, and only if the candidate was truly outstanding."