Memoria Luxareo @tootytots1

Hermione had been somewhat disappointed when Arthur was the only member of the Weasley clan stood at her door. He'd assured her that the others had wanted to come but Molly had insisted they stay and pack.

"Pack?" Hermione had asked, heaving her suitcase over the threshold. Arthur Weasley took it from her, nodding seriously and tapping the side of his nose. Hermione had bit back all her questions, that had quickly been forgotten when they stopped outside the Tall Man Inn. She found it difficult to form a coherent sentence as Mr Weasley, with a lopsided grin, turned to her and described the small brick building as their (as he put it) means of transport.

The Tall Man Inn had been the only pub near her home for as long as Hermione could remember. It was a small, cramped little place; so much so that the landlord, who was himself a particularly tall man, was forced into a constant stoop. It was a regular haunt for all the locals and its quaintness was a talking point for the handful of tourists that passed through. Hermione had to admit that it did have an old worldly feel to it, but she had always found the pub quite scary.

Hermione glanced up at the large wooden sign its paint glinting in the sun, the image of a large gangly man sneering down at her from beneath thick black letters. Hermione shivered slightly.

"Here?" She asked somewhat incredulously as Mr Weasley stopped outside the green door, grinning up at the sign. He sported a long grey coat with chequered trousers and a woollen trilby that sat awkwardly on his head. When he'd asked Hermione how he'd fared dressing like a muggle, she hadn't the heart to tell him he'd failed rather spectacularly.

"Yes, Old Billabus is an old friend of mine, went to school together."Hermione simply blinked at the red-headed man, her eyes owlish as she tried to process the new information.

"Billabus? You mean Mr Gregory?"

"The one and only." Mr Weasley stated with a nod.

"Mr Gregory went to Hogwarts?" Hermione spluttered.

"Oh yes, a regular genius he was, which is extraordinary considering his heritage. Used to call him tiny" Arthur muttered to himself, his lips turning up in a small, whimsical smile.

"Tiny?" Hermione gasped in disbelief, biting back her questions as Mr Weasley pushed the door open and stepped into the gloom.

Pipe smoke hung thick and heavy in the air, the smell of it making Hermione's head feel fuzzy. The windows were stained glass depicting the antics of one particular drunken man, as he stumbled from one pane to the next. The sun glimmered through the scenes and reflected the colours on the walls and floor. The sight was, in its own way, truly magical.

Hermione glanced around noticing the hunched men hiding in the shadows, their hands curled around glasses filled with amber liquid, the embers of their pipe momentarily lighting up their faces before they disappeared behind the expelled smoke.

"Gregory you old crone." The man stooped behind the bar was exactly how Hermione remembered him; long and scraggly hair that was the colour of mud, his eyes beady and black with a large bulbous nose. His mouth, however, which Hermione remembered drooping down at the corners, was pulled up into a large grin.

"Ho, if it isn't Arty." Mr Gregory's voice was booming, making many of the hunched figures glance up from their gloomy corners. "What brings you to this neck of the woods. No bad business I hope." He leant forward conspiratorially as he said this and Hermione shifted uncomfortably under his suspicious glare.

"Oh no, nothing of the sort. This is Hermione Granger, a friend of the family." Mr Gregory nodded towards Hermione once, and she smiled up at him nervously.

Arthur leant over the bar towards his friend, his hand covering his mouth as he whispered. Hermione desperately tried to listen but sighed in resignation when she couldn't make out anything. Mr Gregory nodded several times at Arthur's words before stepping away from the counter and disappearing into the back room. After a few moments he reappeared, a set of large iron keys attached to a ring in one hand, moving amongst the keys was a small crystal ball, the middle of it glowing purple. The keys were moved out of Hermione's view before she could inspect the strange object more, as Mr Gregory gestured for them to follow.

He lead them down a small dusty corridor that had the man almost bent in half at the sheer lowness of the ceiling. Hermione glanced around, taking in the pictures hanging on the wall, not quite sitting straight. The pictures were of various patrons that had visited the establishment over the years, their eyes sparkling with the moment. She noticed with interest that some of them seemed to be dressed rather strangely, Mr Weasley strangely.

Mr Gregory stooped down to a rather unimpressive looking wooden door with a small brass handle. Slowly he fingered through the loop of keys till he picked out one and held it right up to his face so that the metal almost touched his bulbous snout. Nodding slightly to himself he pushed the key into the lock and turned it three times.

Hermione tried to see what was beyond the door but could make out only darkness and Mr Gregory's hunched back.

"What's happening," she whispered to Arthur, the Weasley turned and smiled, gesturing for her to be quiet with a finger to his lips. Hermione crossed her arms, huffing slightly. Her annoyance was soon forgotten when she heard the large man mutter something under his breath, and a small globe of white light flickered into existence next to his shoulder. Hermione jumped as she felt the Sensieve's magic shift around her, the feel of it brushing against her skin and ever so slightly nudging her towards the door.

The globe of light disappeared into the darkness, chasing away the shadows, and leaving torches, that were fixed to the wall, aflame in its wake.

"Ah, you're in luck." He said, glancing back at Arthur whose face lit up with excitement.

"Really?" He said, bustling forward to look down the stairs.

"Yes, but we better hurry." With that, he stopped low and made his way down the stairs. Arthur took his wand out his pocket and flicked his wrist. Hermione's bag lifted from the floor and floated behind the strangely dressed wizard. He shot Hermione a look of barely contained excitement over his shoulder before disappearing down the steps.

Torches flamed at regular intervals lighting the way down towards another door. Hermione took a deep breath as she placed her foot on the first step, the air musty as it filled her lungs. The staircase was large, great stone slabs covered with thick layers of dust. She knelt down, running her hand along the stone and removing some of the dust, gasping slightly when the torchlight revealed that the steps were black, almost obsidian in colour and they shone in the flame. Her finger traced the faint pattern that seemed to have been carved into all of them, but whatever design had been there before had been worn away by years upon years of footfall. Hermione rose to her feet, hesitating a moment before following to two wizards.

When they stopped at the second door Hermione could hardly believe her eyes. It was made from the same black stones beneath her feet, but its carving remained intact, running deep into the stone. Mr Gregory leant close to the door and muttered something under his breath. Once again a small light flickered into existence, flying towards the carving.

"This is a..." Mr Gregory started gesturing to the door as the light flew into the carving and spread like water through the ridges.

"Memoria Luxareo." Hermione breathed, and both men turned to her, their eyes widening slightly.

"How do you know about the Memoria Luxareo?" Mr Gregory asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

"She's a smart one is Hermione, no doubt read it in a book somewhere." Hermione opened her mouth to explain that she had seen one before but stopped herself. As much as Draco had hurt her she still did not want to share their find with anyone else.

"Yes I...I read it in a book. I thought that they opened with strong emotions?" She asked, her brows furrowing as she inspected the door. The carvings were intricate, as intricate as the ones that Draco and she had found. These however depicted a room full of wizards, their wands broken in their hands, magic seeping from them into a large room.

"Ah yes, some have, or should I say, some did. This, however, is a little bit different." Hermione looked up at the tall man.


"Now that would be telling wouldn't it." He said with a chuckle, his keys jangling by his side.

"What does this mean?" Said Arthur Weasley pointing to the carvings. Mr Gregory's' brow furrowed and he scratched his head.

"No one is sure really, some of the high ups, you know more robes than sense, they came and had a look, couldn't make head nor tail of it. If you ask me it looks like A.R.M.A being made."

"What?" Hermione asked, unable to contain her surprise. She had read about A.R.M.A. The Ancient Records of Magical Actions was somewhat of a talking point among the wizarding community, with many drawing the conclusion that it was simply a myth thought up by a few drunken wizards, looking to cause a little unrest. From what Hermione had read A.R.M.A did lend itself to myths and legends, as it was said that the records never stayed in one place for too long and to man such a room would be near impossible.

"The Ancient Records of Magical Actions." Mr Gregory clarified as he pushed the stone door open with a grin.

"The records are real?." she found herself muttering. Mr Gregory chuckled stepping through the doorway and to the side opening his arms wide.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" Hermione glanced at Arthur who nodded in encouragement. She stepped through the doorway slowly, her breath catching in her throat as she took in her surroundings. A huge room stretched out below her with great stone pillars. Hermione looked up, her mouth dropping open at the ceiling high above her, where paintings of witches and wizards eyed her suspiciously as they sorted through papers. Great oak shelves lined the walls, every available gap filled with various scrolls of different sizes. Hermione watched with fascination as golden quills flew through the air in front of her, whizzing towards scrolls that magically removed themselves from shelves and opened up.

She made her way down the stairs in a daze, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to take in everything at once. She gasped again when her foot hit the floor of the room, and a mosaic fish swam past, a mermaid chasing it, it's hair the colour of seaweed.

" is this? This is…" Hermione stuttered, twirling around. A small blank scroll flitted through the air past her face, stopping near a shelf.

"Ah, that will be a new one." Said Mr Gregory, glancing up from his conversation with Arthur Weasley to watch a golden quill zip across the room and scrawl something across the page in silver ink. Hermione rushed forward to read the paper. Susan Archille - turned sister's hair blue - 46 Aiden Drive, Scotland.

"Anyone anywhere uses magic and this place knows about it. Of course, we only get notified when it's a problem, new magic users, the improper use of underage magic, magic in the presence of muggles..." Mr Gregory reeled off the list sounding a little bored.

"But how...But how does it work?" Arthur asked before Hermione had a chance to.

"Hah, that's what I'd like to know. Would you believe it, a world full of the most intelligent and powerful witches and wizards and not one of them know how this place works." He glanced around before turning back to Hermione, his eyes glinting. "It's old magic."

Hermione's heart thudded in her chest at the mention of old magic. Of course, it was old magic, she couldn't understand why she hadn't felt it before. There was a gentle hum in the air, something close to what she felt when the Sensieve's magic moved and shifted around her. It made her think of all the memories, of Mina and Edward, and it made her think of Draco.

Hermione grit her teeth not wanting to think about the Slytherin, though he seemed to have a habit of creeping into her thoughts when she least expected it. She was determined not to let him ruin this moment. She turned and realised that Arthur and Mr Gregory were heading towards the other side of the room. Quickly she moved to catch up with them, trying not to get distracted by the scrolls and quills flying through the air.

"No one knows when this was created, do they?" Arthur said with wonder, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. It was strange to see the Weasley get so excited about something magical, usually, he was buzzing about some new muggle device, taking it apart and trying desperately to put it back together. She could understand his disbelief, even by magical standards A.R.M.A was impressive, more than impressive.

Mr Gregory shook his head slowly, smiling slightly to himself "One wizard guessed around the 15th Century or thereabouts, something about the pattern carved onto the steps. But even he couldn't be sure, bit too fond of the old firewhiskey" Hermione's steps faltered when she heard the estimated date, her breath catching in the back of her throat. Her fingers itched to write to the stupid stuck up ferret about everything.

"Why can't they be sure?" She asked, falling into step with the tall man. He glanced down at her rubbing his chin.

"This place is ageless, old magic will do that." He stopped at a large ornate desk, scrolls of different sizes floating up around his head, each of fixed shut with a wax seal. "Old magic is incredibly powerful, luckily for us everything we know about it is...well it's gone. Wouldn't want anything as powerful as this place falling into the wrong hands." He said looking at Arthur pointedly.

Hermione hadn't thought about the dangers of using Old Magic, she knew that it was powerful, she'd seen that when Draco had been practising spells. Now, though, she panicked. You-know-who was back, his followers coming out of the woodwork and she had helped the son of one of them learn how to use Old Magic. She couldn't believe that she had been so stupid.

Mr Gregory strode towards another stone door, the entirety of it covered with carvings of scrolls. He muttered and the door lit up. Hermione was starting to doubt the rarity of the Memoria Luxareo's as she'd seen two within the space of five minutes. She struggled to wrap her head around the fact that this place existed and most of the wizarding world had no clue about it, not even an inkling.

Mr Gregory pulled the door open revealing a small room, the walls made entirely of precious stones, the inside of them glowing faintly with white light.

"This''s.." Hermione turned around slowly open-mouthed.

"Pretty impressive isn't it." Said Mr Gregory appreciatively, glancing around the room. "No matter how many times I come here it" Arthur nodded with him. After a moment of silence, the scrolls fell to the floor and Mr Gregory turned to Arthur. "Well this is your ride, just think of where you need to go and this will take you there."

With a nod Arthur stepped into the room, Hermione's suitcase floating behind him and settling at his feet. He rubbed his hands together grinning gleefully.

"I've always wanted to do this." Hermione smiled at him. 'Now close your eyes and think of home...well my home."

Hermione closed her eyes and thought of the burrow, she thought of the Weasleys all sat in the kitchen among the general chaos of their home. She thought of Ron, his bright red hair, freckles dusting his nose. Her heart raced as it did every time she thought of her friend.

Someone gasped in front of her and Hermione's eyes fluttered open. Ron was stood in front of her a doughnut frozen by his lips, eyes wide in surprise.

"Mione." He mumbled, and Hermione smiled because for once her mind wasn't full of thoughts a blonde Slytherin, she was just thinking about Ron.

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