An Opus Alchymicum Vol 1: The Experimental Theologian's Apprentice

A Shadow of Marisa

Hermione flopped down onto her bed, running her hands through her tangled hair to offset the steady throb in her temples. She'd had another row with her father, who was deeply against her decision to head North with her new Mistress. But Hermione had made her choice and she was stubbornly sticking to it. The arguments, though, were taking it out of her.

Papageno flowed up as an ermine onto the pillow next to Hermione, his cool button-nose brushing against her aching forehead. Hermione closed her eyes and turned into his soothing little sniffs.

"Why is Dad being so difficult?" Hermione grumbled. "Why cant he just see? Mum does, so why cant he?"

"He's just worried about us, that's all," Papageno replied. "I'd be concerned if he wasn't. And, to be honest, I'm worried, too."

Hermione pulled herself onto her elbows. "You agree with us going, don't you? We have to try and find ... whatever-his-name-might-be Potter. And then help him if we can. And then find a way to make him fall in love with us."

Hermione wore a cross little frown as she said that last part. It was this aspect, above any other, which seemed to be the biggest challenge of all, despite the myriad of more immediate ones facing them.

"I know, I know," Papageno breathed back. "But it just seems such a long way to go, so far off. And there are bound to be all kinds of dangers out there. And it will be dark, and cold, and we might go hungry, and we'll be breaking about fifty international laws, and it could land us in prison, or worse ... expelled from Jericho Prep. Doesn't any of that worry you?"

"You seem to have it all covered," Hermione quirked in reply. "I think I'll just leave all our worrying to you."

"There's the other thing," Papageno went on. "If we ever find your Mr Potter, how will you know when you're in love with him?"

"I just will," Hermione chirruped dreamily. "I'm already in love with him a little bit. And I haven't even met him yet."

"No, you aren't in love with him, you're in love with an idea of him," Papageno pointed out reasonably. "They are two very different things."

"I don't see how."

"Well what if he turns out to be spiteful and horrible?" Papageno asked sternly. "What then?"

"He wont be," Hermione sang confidently. "You're forgetting that I have to fall in love with him. Which must mean he's the sort of boy worth falling in love with in the first place. Or, at least, the sort of boy I'd be able to love ... and you know I don't like anyone who's mean and nasty, the kind who would make fun of me. I cant imagine Mother Nature pairing me up with that sort, can you? Why would she?"

Hermione's mind was more than made up on the subject, and she fancied she wouldn't tolerate any other opinion on the matter. Not even from her own daemon.

"It would be awfully cruel of her," Papageno nodded in sage agreement. "So, that's settled then - we're going?"

"We are," Hermione returned staunchly. "I just wish Dad would stop giving us a hard time about it. I'd hate to leave on such bad terms."

Just then, there was a knock on the bedroom door and Hermione's mother, Catherine, walked in without waiting for an invite. She leaned back against the door and considered her daughter carefully. Catherine's dæmon was a prim little fox, whose name was Rampula. He began busily preening himself in the heavy silence, but never once took his swarthy, cunning eyes from Hermione, who had sat fully upright now, gearing for a fight.

"Is Daddy still very upset?" she began cautiously.

Catherine closed her eyes and heaved in a weighty breath. "He isn't happy about this at all, Hermione. You cant expect him to be."