Chapter 4: A Change of Wardrobe
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"Mysterious Events Sweep Across Europe, a Surge in Unexplained Phenomena" Hermione Granger's eyes moved swiftly across the front page of the Daily Prophet, taking in the headlines of the day.
She was seated in a quiet corner of an empty subway car, making its way through the underground arteries of Rome. This particular subway car, a covert apparition point designated for Department of Magic employees, provided them with a discreet route to the Italian Ministry of Magic. Their first stop of the day to drop off the tome for safe keeping.
"From the Scottish Highlands to the streets of Paris, a series of bizarre events have left the wizarding community both bewildered and concerned. Yesterday in Scotland, a usually placid loch was suddenly engulfed in a whirlpool, nearly capsizing several wizarding fishing boats. This follows last week's incident in Paris, where the fountains at the Fontaines De La Concorde spontaneously changed their water to red wine, causing a mixture of amusement and alarm among the local populace.
In Rome, the statues in the Wizarding Quarter unexpectedly came to life, reciting ancient prophecies to the astonishment of passersby. And in Berlin, a well-known magical alley was covered in a dense fog that turned day to night for a full twenty-four hours, leaving the wizarding community there in disarray.”
Hermione's mind raced as she tried to piece together the seemingly disparate events. Each incident, on its own, was curious, but together, the connection was too strong to be coincidental. These events were occurring at ley line locations. Just like in the map they’d drawn up yesterday. But why? There didn’t seem to be a straightforward rational behind all these unusual events. Nothing malicious as of yet.
Below the article, there was a statement from Kingsley: “The Ministry acknowledges these unusual occurrences and is actively investigating. We advise the wizarding community to remain calm and report any unusual activities. We are committed to ensuring the safety and stability of our magical community.”
She flipped the page, only to find the article abruptly ended. She was about to express her frustration when a banner caught her attention: "Breaking Curses, Breaking Hearts: Draco Malfoy Tops Witch Weekly’s Most Swoon-Worthy Sorcerers List."
Closing the newspaper with a snap, she couldn't resist a quick glance across the aisle at the sorcerer in question, who was seemingly oblivious to his newfound distinction. His attire was striking – finely tailored robes of a deep midnight blue that clung to his tall, lean frame, its perfect fit highlighting the broad expanse of his shoulders with a graceful and refined elegance. She speculated that his robes alone were probably worth twice her annual ministry salary.
Sensing her gaze on him, his sharp eyes lifted to meet hers. With a subtle flick of his wand and a whispered "accio" the paper soared from her hands before she could react. Draco's eyes darted over the headline, absorbing the words with a quick, discerning glance. When their eyes locked once more, his lips curled into a smug, self-satisfied smirk.
"I suppose there are worse titles," he remarked, his tone dripping with that quintessential Slytherin arrogance. "So, Granger, is this why you always have your nose buried in some book? Secretly stalking Britain’s most eligible bachelors, are we?"
Hermione huffed, her indignation sparking her wand into action. "Incendio."
The paper in Draco's hands burst into flames, instantly turning to ash. The surprise on his face quickly morphed into a chuckle, genuine amusement replacing his smirk. She supposed she could see how women might find him charming, in a 'tall, dark, and infuriatingly smug' sort of way.
"Actually,” she quickly retorted, eager to redirect the conversation. "I was reading about the recent surge in magical anomalies across Europe. They seem to follow a specific pattern, and honestly, I’m worried."
Draco's amusement subsided, “ley lines?” he questioned.
She nodded. "If someone's manipulating ley lines, regardless of the outcome, that's a level of magic that's dangerous and unpredictable. We need to understand their motive—and fast."
The train came to a gentle stop, signalling their arrival and they made their way through the underground passages of the Italian Ministry.
The walls of the underground station were adorned with intricate mosaics depicting scenes from Italian wizarding history. Figures in flowing robes and pointed hats, reminiscent of ancient sorcerers, danced across the tiles, casting spells and creating wonders. The ceiling above them bathed the surroundings in soft daylight, and Hermione couldn't help but wonder if it was enchanted to mimic the actual sky over Rome.
They ascended a grand marble staircase, flanked by statues of famous Italian witches and wizards. Each statue appeared to come to life momentarily, nodding in acknowledgment as they passed. Hermione recognized some of them from her studies – famous enchanters like Julia Domna, the inventor of the Everlasting Elixir, and Pliny the Elder, a renowned magizoologist.
As they entered the main atrium of the Italian Ministry, Hermione couldn't help but marvel at its grandeur. The high vaulted ceiling was adorned with enchanted murals that depicted the entire history of Italian magic. In one scene she made out a youthful Julius Caesar, surrounded by talented witches and wizards, as they worked together to build the Colosseum. It was a testament to the intertwining of magical and muggle worlds, a secret hidden in plain sight.
Draco whispered to Hermione, "Impressive, isn't it?"
She nodded, her eyes wide with wonder. "It's like stepping into a living tapestry."
Their footsteps echoed on the polished marble floors as they made their way to the front desk. A kindly witch with flowing silver hair and rich emerald robes, adorned with the insignia of the Italian Ministry greeted them with a warm, inviting smile.
"Buongiorno," she said with a melodious Italian accent. "What can I do for you today?"
Hermione stepped forward, the weight of the tome in her arms a reassuring presence. "We have a valuable item that we'd like to entrust to the Ministry's care. We need it delivered to the British Ministry as soon as possible."
The witch nodded understandingly and gestured for Hermione to place the tome on the desk. With a practiced flick of her wand, she conjured a chest, its surface etched with intricate runes. "Very well, I shall personally oversee its transfer. We utilize special enchantments for such sensitive deliveries."
Hermione watched, a sense of relief washing over her, as the tome was carefully placed inside the chest. The witch then proceeded to seal it with several layers of protective enchantments, each glowing briefly as they were applied. "Thank you," she said, relieved that the tome was in safe hands.
The witch then extended her hand, offering Hermione a small, ornately crafted key. "Please keep this with you," she instructed. "It's not just a key but also an enchanted tracking device. It will notify you upon the chest's safe arrival. The key is magically linked to the chest's enchantments, ensuring you're kept informed every step of the way."
Grasping the key, Hermione felt the faint hum of magic at her fingertips, a subtle yet unmistakable sign of the enchantment at work. She pocketed the key with a nod, acknowledging the careful measures taken by the Ministry.
With the tome now securely on its way, Hermione and Draco stepped out of the Italian Ministry, ready to focus on the next phase of their mission. The bustling streets of Rome unfolded around them, filled with the vibrant energy of tourists and locals.
Hermione glanced at the crowd and then their wizarding robes. “We can’t go to the Pantheon like this, we’ll attract too much attention.”
Draco looked reluctantly at the throngs of tourists. "And I suppose you have a plan for that?" he asked, his tone sceptical.
She spotted a nearby tourist cart its array of colorful and stereotypically touristy attire beckoning them. "Over there. We can get something to help us fit in."
Approaching the cart, they were immediately overwhelmed by the eclectic array of vibrant colors. It was a chaotic kaleidoscope of 'I ❤ Rome' t-shirts in every conceivable shade, shorts with patterns so outrageous they could easily startle any creature, magical or not, and sun hats large enough to be mistaken for UFOs.
Draco raised an eyebrow at the selection. "You can't be serious," he said, eyeing a rack of particularly flamboyant t shirts as though they were cursed objects that might hex him at any moment.
He looked simply horrified.
Hermione, unable to contain her amusement, laughed. "Oh, come on, Draco, when in Rome!" she teased, trying on a pair of star-shaped sunglasses, and striking a playful pose.
The vendor, a jovial man with a thick Italian accent, seemed to sense Draco's apprehension. With a broad grin, he picked up a bright pink shirt adorned with an extravagant Colosseum print and waved it in Draco's direction. "Ah, signore, you will look magnifico in these!" he exclaimed.
Hermione eyed Draco, half-expecting him to pull out his wand and hex the man right then and there. Instead, with a resigned sigh and a pointed glare at her that could curdle milk, Draco reluctantly took the shirt. "If I end up hexed or turned into a tourist attraction, I'm holding you responsible," he grumbled.
Emboldened by Draco's surrender, she selected a sundress for herself – a riot of colors and Roman landmarks – and a wide-brimmed hat that could provide shade for a small family.
As they changed behind a makeshift screen, Draco emerged looking like a caricature of a Roman holidaymaker, the pink shirt clashing spectacularly with his pale complexion and blond hair. Hermione, in her vivid dress and oversized hat, couldn't help but chuckle at their reflections in a nearby mirror.
"Ready to blend in?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with mirth.
Draco shot her a look that promised revenge. "Let's just get this over with," he muttered. He adjusted the garish pink shirt with a resigned sigh, then together they stepped back into the lively current of people filling the streets of Rome.
As they weaved through the crowd, their touristy disguises seemed to work perfectly. No one gave them a second glance, except for a few amused smiles.
Hermione, feeling the sun hat wobble on her head with every step, leaned in towards Draco. "You know, you almost look like you're enjoying this," she teased, noting how the Roman sun added a warm glow to his usual pallor.
Draco snorted, "Enjoying it? I feel like I'm undercover on a Muggle beach." Despite his words, there was a lightness in his voice.
Their path took them closer to the Pantheon, the ancient structure standing imposingly amidst the hustle and bustle of modern Rome. They bought their admission tickets from a nearby booth and merged into the stream of Muggles waiting to enter.
Crossing the threshold of the Pantheon, they left the brilliant Roman sunlight behind and inside the ancient stones seemed to hum with a hidden energy. The sunlight streaming through the oculus above cast a golden glow, yet something felt slightly off-kilter.
Draco glanced around, a frown creasing his forehead. He watched as a group of tourists laughed at something, their movements oddly out of sync with the sound reaching his ears. "Is it just me, or is everything... off here?" he whispered.
Hermione, observing a series of paintings depicting ancient Roman scenes, nodded slowly. She thought she saw a figure in the painting blink, but when she looked again, it was perfectly still. "Something's not right," she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper.
They ventured deeper, each step echoing strangely under the vast dome. Shadows seemed to dance along the walls, creating fleeting images that disappeared as soon as they tried to focus on them. Draco reached out to touch one of the cold, ancient pillars, half-expecting it to ripple under his fingers like water. Instead, it stood firm, though the touch sent a shiver down his spine.
Hermione's eyes were drawn to a clock on the wall. Its hands were moving, but not in the way they should – sometimes too fast, sometimes too slow, and sometimes not at all. She watched it, fascinated, and unnerved, before shaking her head to clear the disorienting effect.
In the distance, the sound of a tour guide speaking seemed to drift in and out, the words melding into a nonsensical hum before becoming clear again. Draco tilted his head, trying to make sense of the sounds, but it was like trying to listen underwater. The further they walked, the more the sense of disorientation grew. The vast expanse of the Pantheon seemed to warp subtly around them, distances stretching and compressing in ways that defied logic.
Draco stopped suddenly, staring at a point in the distance. "Do you see that?" he asked, pointing towards a spot where the air seemed to shimmer slightly, like heat haze on a summer's day.
Just as they reached the shimmering air, a figure appeared before them. It was a spectral image of a Roman philosopher, his form flickering like a flame. He spoke in riddles, his words echoing around them before he vanished as suddenly as he had appeared.
Threads of time entwine, past, present, and future.
Caution, for what you alter may cause despair.
A single tug may fray the weave.
The Artifact guards what's deemed divine.
Left in stunned silence, Hermione and Draco exchanged a look of bewilderment. She opened her mouth to speak, but in a disorienting instant, everything changed.
She stood frozen in the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, her heart racing with a mix of fear and disbelief. The stone walls, the flickering torches, the familiar atmosphere of the magical school were all unmistakably real. But how? Moments ago, they had been deep within the Pantheon.
She turned to speak to Draco, to try to make sense of their sudden displacement, but the words caught in her throat. Instead of Draco, she was looking at herself, her own brown eyes wide with shock and confusion.
"Draco?" she whispered, her voice quivering, yet it was not her voice that responded.
"Hermione?" Draco's voice came from her own body, his astonishment echoing her own sentiments.