An: Hey guys I am back! And only 2 days late from the promised update! (You know after the 2 year break ((cough))) Seriously though I lost 2 pets, 3 aunts, and I took a year off of school to work a bunch of shitty jobs that drained me both mentally and emotionally. I was in no fit shape to do anything let alone write and I wanted to give you guys my best. But things are looking very good right now and I feel up to the challenge of finishing this chapter! (Which my computer ate, did I mention it died in the middle of the re write. Twice.)

I would have gotten this to you sooner but as it turns out my beta might be a published author soon so has to work on her own things so all mistakes are my own. You see anything really wonky please let me know and I will fix it ASAP. I just didn't want to make you guys wait any longer. Soooo enjoy!

Chapter 11 The Book of Before

"Are you sure we are allowed to be in here this late?" Hermione whispered as she crept around a large dusty crate. She lifted the lantern Tom had conjured for her to try and get a better view of what was ahead, but saw only the faint outlines of more crates and long narrow rows of shelves.

"Quite sure, we have permission remember? And don't bother whispering, there is no one here."

"Well, excuse me for being cautious."

"Consider yourself excused."

Hermione huffed in annoyance and Tom smirked.

"Where is this book of yours anyway?"

"In the very back, I left it in a box under my work station."

Hermione nodded and they started to move towards the back. There is so much clutter she thought as the sheer amount of things forced her and Tom to walk single file. How on earth do they find anything?

There seemed to be a weak attempt to keep like objects with like but other than that things were just piled and packed together. Her fingers have an involuntary twitch when she saw a large pile of books carelessly stacked next to a growling box. She sighed and forced herself to keep walking; she had bigger problems then saving a stack of priceless books. Luckily for her there was a lot to look at to distract her.

On one long table were pieces of metal of all shapes and sizes but she could only identify what a few of them might have been used for. None of them were longer than three inches in length and the majority of them were black and twisted, she wondered what purpose they served.

The shelf next to the strange metal shapes contained a bevy of dolls.

They all looked to be handmade, some of the stitch work elegant, others clumsy, but they were all similar except in what they wore. Some of the dolls had what looked like human hair pinned to their heads and nothing else. Others had bits of cloth made into rudimentary clothing, a burlap shirt, a cotton skirt, a fine silvery silk like material fashioned into a toga- there was no limit to the sheer amount of cloth and styles used. The last doll on the shelf sent chills down her spine. It was in the shape of what looked to be a child, or at least she assumed so as it was so much smaller than the others. It had a smear of a smile across his otherwise blank face. Her insides turned to ice when she realized it was dried blood.

"What are they?" She asked as Tom came up behind her.

"Voodoo dolls. They caused such trouble the knowledge on how to make them was destroyed." He sounded rueful and her chills intensified. "It was said that the more intimate an item you could get from your victim, the better the magic worked. For example hair and blood would be more powerful than cloth or other personal items."

"More powerful?"

"Yes, from what we can tell it was like being put under a very strong compulsion charm depending on the item used for the dolls. Distance was an issue as well." He pointed to the doll wearing the toga. "With a doll like this one, the victim would have to be within twenty feet at the very least for the spell to take effect, and even then the result would be diluted. For one like this," he pointed to a doll further down the line, this one had a tuft of blond hair wrapped in a sky blue ribbon pinned to its head. "The distance was greater, about sixty to seventy feet on average and it was harder for the victim to resist the curse."

He gestured toward the child doll with the bloody smile. "With blood the range didn't matter, and the victim was helpless to resist the demands of the doll maker. It worked more like the modern imperius curse. Some scholars have debated that the origins of the imperius are directly tied to the original spell used to create the dolls. I suspect the imperius curse is actually a weaker, less refined version."

She gave a weak smile at his enthusiasm.

He examined her face and frowned.

"What's wrong?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's nothing."

His eyes narrowed but he didn't press the matter. "Then let us continue on."

She didn't dare ask about anything else as the instruments around her grew increasingly sinister looking.

Blades of all shape and sizes were lined up against one side of the narrow aisle she found herself walking down, and lengths of rope were hung on the other.

A whispering knife tried to lure her to it with promises of power, and a long silk lasso reached forward to try and wrap itself around her wrist as she passed it. A sword hummed slowly to itself and she could have sworn she saw a beautiful woman doing needle point reflected in the blade as she dodged around it, and yet another length of rope swayed back and forth to a tune only it could hear.

She peered over her shoulder when the whispering, the swaying, the humming, all intensified. If they had been calling to Hermione, they were screaming for Tom. They wanted him to touch them, use them, and Hermione was surprised at the care he took to be sure he didn't damage anything as the artifacts tried to caress him in some way.

She didn't have long to ponder on this as they finally came upon a large open space. She felt like she could finally breathe now that she was away from the clutter. Hermione lifted her lantern and could make out a series of low steel tables pressed against the back wall.

"You use metal tables?" She asked.

"We do, wood has the nasty habit of absorbing latent magic over time. I don't think I need to tell you what happens when two or more dangerous curses combine. I am still surprised that none of the desks at Hogwarts have exploded." Hermione cringed at the thought as she followed Tom to a table tucked behind a large series of shelves covered in bones. "This is my station."

As they drew closer to the desk Hermione froze at the sight of a large skull of some kind of reptile. Mummified skin clung to the bones, and its large maw was opened wide to revel rows and rows of curved teeth.

"What is it?"

"It's the ancestor to a few species of modern North American dragons and the flying serpents of South America. The natives worshiped it as a god and there are rumors that the priests spoke Parseltongue but I seriously doubt that is the case. My theory is that Parseltongue originated in India. That is where I found the book."

"When were you in India?"

Tom reached under his desk and pulled out a large iron crate with surprising deftness. "Last month. The museum sends me out to retrieve artifacts from other museums or to collect things from dig sites."

"Is that why you were in Albania?"

He set the box down onto his table and she watched in fascination as his hands stared to glow white. "Albania?" He asked with an absent minded hum as he carefully reached into the box and pulled out a burlap sack.

"You mentioned luring the Paradox Chasers to Albania."

"Ah yes, I went to retrieve something in the area and took advantage of the opportunity." He set the sack down and carefully pulled out a large book bound in some kind of scaly hide. She frowned at what looked to be deep burn marks in the cover and reached out to try and touch them. She jumped in surprise as Tom grabbed her wrist.

"What-"

"The oils on your skin can harm the artifacts." Hermione winced as the white glow around Tom's hand extended over to wrap around her fingers. The light was incredibly cold to the touch, like dipping her bare hand into the snow. She watched in fascination as the light inched over the flesh of her hand until it covered all of her skin up to her wrist. It was like wearing an icy glove. "Now the other one."

"What is this spell?"

"A variation of the preservation charm, it keeps the artifacts safe while they are being handled. I altered the original spell to make it portable and safe to use on human skin. Think of them like gloves."

"You invented the spell?"

He quirked an eyebrow as he took her other hand in his and let the white light of the spell spread across her palm. "No, I altered it. Once you know the basic mechanics of a spell changing it is a simple matter." He looked down at her hand and her gaze followed his. He slowly examined each appendage with a raptness that made her uncomfortable. She flinched when his fingers started to trace over her skin. "I was only looking for weaknesses in the spell. I have not used it on others before." He murmured as she drew away.

"I assume everything is in order?"

He gave a sharp nod and Hermione took that as permission to examine the book. She reached out and gently touched the cover of the book. The hide the book was made out of wasn't dragon, the texture was all wrong, she noted as she drew her fingers over the rough scales of the cover. The edges of the scales were sharp instead of the smooth curves of traditional dragon scales, and she had never seen the dull acid green color associated with any dragon she had studied.

"Do you know what the skin is made of?"

"Basilisk."

A flash of reflected yellow eyes flared in her memory and she felt herself tense up against her will.

"Is something wrong, Hermione?"

"Just a bad memory… do you know what caused the burn marks here?" She ran a finger over the deep blackened groves that spanned the entire cover.

"It's Parseltongue, roughly translated it says "The Book of Before."

He gently nudged her out of the way and with great care opened the book to the first page. It was made out of a giant banana leaf; she gaped as he carefully started to unfold it. It encompassed almost the entire table when he was done and looked as vibrant and green as if it had been freshly plucked. She gently reached out and touched the corner, it felt waxy and new.

"How is this possible?"

"That I do not know. The preservation charm placed on this leaf isn't something I have seen before. The magic even feels different."

He can feel magic? She thought as he scowled at the leaf. She had never heard of anyone who was able to feel magic unless they had been hit by a spell, and even then they were only feeling the effect of the spell instead of the magic behind it.

"Why would someone want to preserve a leaf like this?" She wondered out loud.

"Look closely at the surface."

She did. Etched across the surface in great swooping squiggles were charcoal words. At least she assumed they were words, to her they looked like a toddlers doodles.

"What does it say?"

"…I am not positive."

She glared at him. "I thought you said you could read it!"

"I can, but it is difficult. This is written in a dialect I am unfamiliar with and the words become… jumbled."

The look of pure annoyance and frustration on his face mirrored that of his younger self so precisely that for a moment the image of the little boy and the teenager became one in her mind. Without thinking she reached out and smoothed his hair back. "I am sure you are doing your best, just take it slow."

He froze under her touch, much like he did as a child, before slowly pulling away from her. There was something in his eyes, some aggressive lightning in his expression that stole her breath before he fell into his neutral expression once more.

"We don't have time for me to make mistakes, but I admit to being limited by the language barrier."

"Language barrier?" She asked weakly, trying to get her heart beat under control.

"Yes. In my experience all spoken parseltongue has a base universal sound. But the written form takes on a bias from the speaker's native language. Parseltongue is a language that was always meant to be spoken rather than written." He let out a short series of hisses. "That was just the word for food. Snakes do not have ears; they feel the magical vibrations a parseltongue unleashes when they speak. The more mundane the serpent the more syllables you have to add to get it to understand exactly what you want, it can make conversations tedious." He rolled his eyes and she gave a hesitant smile in return. "I would have assumed it would be impossible to translate a language based entirely on magical vibrations of various complexities into any kind of text based form… at least not without bastardizing it so badly it isn't recognized as parseltongue."

"So how do you know this is parseltongue?"

"Watch the words."

Hermione looked down at the seemingly random squiggles and shivered when Tom spoke again in fluid parseltongue. At first nothing seemed to happen, then a few of the more prominent lines began to twitch and move and a faint sound of breathy hissing echoed up from the leaf.

"What is it saying."

"As I said, I am not sure." He pointed to a few of the smaller marks surrounding the larger ones that still gave weak twitches. "These are what I have been calling accent marks. They add on to the larger base word to make the exact meaning clear, but I have not been able to get them to activate properly into a form I recognize. I can get a vague meaning form some of these sentences because these large marks here all center from a universal parseltongue base word, but without the accents I could horrendously mistranslate the entire thing."

"But what makes the accent marks so different?"

"That is indeed the question I needed answered, and I managed to with this." He carefully folded the banana leaf back into the book and opened it up to another page near the end, this one made of plain parchment. Tom hissed again, this time even more of the smaller accents lit up and wriggled wildly. This time the hissing form the page grew louder and more… feminine?

"How did you manage that?"

"I used words one would only find in the German language."

Hermione bit her bottom lip and frowned, slowly puzzling it together. "So, if I understand this correctly, parseltongue has a core of words that is universally understood." Tom nodded. "But anything requiring more complicated speech is directly affected by the base language of the speaker."

"That would be my assumption, as I have never met another living speaker of the language. This book seems to confirm that theory. As it is I can only clearly understand the base universal wording, or anything with English, French, or German accent marks of which I have only had luck with German and some old English."

"But how did they capture it in a written form?"

"That I do not know, although I suspect that the answer lies somewhere in these pages."

"Which we may never discover because the original spell could be written in a dead language," she said with a sigh and rubbed at her temples. "As fascinating as all of this is how does a tome you can hardly translate help me?"

"Because the parts that I can translate go into some very interesting details about time travel that sounds strikingly similar to your experience." He turned to another page and slowly started to read aloud. "The cold was nothing like I had experienced before and the ice burned my lungs into stillness and in the place where sound and light were meaningless I saw both the beginning and the end of time, and trembled."

"The beginning and the end of time…" Hermione muttered to herself before frowning and trying to think back to the black and the cold that came with the traveling. Had she seen anything like that? "Was there anything more?"

"That is all I have translated so far, I had hoped to have more before you arrived but you were woefully early."

"It's a very good start, but where do we go from here?"

Both of his eyebrows shot up. "Where do we go from here?"

"You don't expect me to just sit here and do nothing do you?"

A rueful smile graced his lips and Hermione felt her neck heat. "I suppose that would be too much to ask of you."

"Indeed." She said with a haughty sniff.

His smile turned into something warmer, something she had never seen on his face before, and her insides melted when he laughed. "I am not one to turn away a mind as brilliant as yours," his smile was all pearly white teeth and the new sultry tone he had suddenly acquired was better than warm chocolate. Is he flirting with me? What does flirting look like? Why don't I remember what flirting looks like?

She ducked her head so he wouldn't catch sight of her burning cheeks. "Right, well, no time like the present to get started right?" She cringed at the way her voice cracked on 'right' but barreled right on and prayed he wouldn't notice. "Let me just grab this lantern and if you could get me some parchment and a quill so I can copy over the basic parseltongue language I can start translating-"

"There will be no need for that."

Hermione frowned and looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

"I have enchanted an object that will allow you to speak and understand the basics as long as you wear it."

"I didn't know that was poss-"

All the blood drained from her face and she was sure her heart had stopped as she caught sight of the object he was holding out to her.

Tom frowned. "What is wrong Hermione? You look like a muggle who has seen a ghost."

She rather wished it WAS a ghost, for dangling from Tom's fingers was Slytherin's Locket.