Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)

Assignment #4

History of Muggles Task 2a: write about someone following directions, 2b: write about someone discovering a world or place. Extra credit: write about a missing civilisation

Roald Dahl Event

Room 270 Expandable pears - Write about someone discovering/overhearing a secret.

Amazonia

Everybody knew that Hermione loved books. Because of that, people often assumed Hermione was a bookworm – and she was, there was no doubting that.

But that wasn't all. Ever since she'd been a young child Hermione had been able to do things that other children couldn't. She could run faster, jump higher, hit harder than anyone her age. To disguise her abilities, she'd hidden herself away in the library, her favourite place to be. After all, she knew what happened to strange and unusual children: they got stolen away, and never returned.

She'd been delighted upon the discovery of the Wizarding World, and at first assumed that her talents had been because she was a witch. But then she saw her first Quidditch game. What should have been fast paced and wickedly dangerous seemed slow and easy to her mind. And if they fell, well, it wasn't all that big a deal, was it?

Except it was, very much so. And Hermione learned that her enhanced abilities had nothing to do with her magic, and yet again, were something… else.

What that 'else' was, she didn't know.

She was thirty-five when she truly had the opportunity to discover the truth. She looked young for age, always had, but as she crept toward her forties she'd maintained her youthful visage, and her friends had begun wondering what sorts of potions she'd been experimenting with. With a sickening feeling in her stomach, Hermione knew that the non-existent potions had nothing to do with it.

In her parent's attic in the outskirts of London, Hermione found a locked chest, made from gleaming walnut and burnished iron fittings. There was no lock, nor key, but her mother claimed that it never opened.

Hermione took it home with her that evening, to her flat in Westminster. She stroked her hand along the curved lid, brushing off dirt and dust. With a quiet snick, the chest unlocked.

Hermione glared at it angrily. Of all the things in her life that she didn't need, well, this was just the cherry on the top.

"Really?" she muttered. Still, with gentle hands, she pried the lid all the way open, exposing its contents. Inside was a single scroll that looked as if it might break as soon as she touched it, yellowed and cracked with age.

Carefully she unrolled it. Then she sighed. It was filled with cramped, curling calligraphy, in a script she didn't know. She barely recognised the alphabet used, let alone the language. If she had to guess, which she was loathe to, she'd go with a form of Ancient Greek.

Another mystery. At least this one looked to be interesting, and, with luck, something that she could solve.

Ding, dong. Ding, dong. Ding, dong.

Hermione swatted at the noise as it was an irritating fly, but it didn't go away.

Ding dong.

"What!" she yelled, dragging her fingers through her hair, catching them on a snarl of knots.

"If you don't let me in, I'll break your bloody door down!" It sounded like Harry.

Hermione rubbed at her eyes, and scribbled down the final lines of her translation. She was so close!

BOOM!

There was a loud crash, and the sound of splintering wood, and then the parchment before her was snatched away. Hermione swayed where she sat, suddenly dizzy, as she looked up into Harry's concerned eyes. They were very green.

"Right, you need some sleep," he said, and quicker than she could react, cast a spell at her. Even as her eyelids drooped, she took a moment to glare at him. He chuckled, and it was the last thing she heard as she dozed off.

Hermione blinked awake, and wasn't particularly surprised to find herself in her own bed, the covers tucked neatly around her. She took a much-needed shower and dressed in fresh clothing (not that she'd ever admit that she'd been neglecting herself). Leaving her bedroom, she found Harry sprawled out upon her sofa.

His dark hair was as messy as ever, and his robes had been discarded upon the floor, leaving him in just a t-shirt and jeans. The scrolls she'd been working on those last few days were balanced precariously upon his chest.

"Third of September," he said, without opening his eyes.

Hermione winced. The last date she remembered it being was about… the twenty fifth of August.

"That's… good?" she said, and sighed at the doubt in her own voice.

Lazily, one of his eyes blinked open, then the other. "Mmhmm," Harry replied, his tone sceptical.

She flicked her wand, levitating her precious documents off him, and he rolled to his feet, stretching like a cat.

"So, it looks like we're going on an adventure, ey?" he said, his eyes sparkling with delight. "By the way, Ron says he'd love to come, but Lav would just about murder him if he went galivanting about with us in South America. It was Daisy's first day at school, on Monday."

"You're an interfering bastard," Hermione decided, with a roll of her eyes. "I'm going to South America. You're staying here to run the Auror Department, and find a wife."

"Wife, smife," Harry replied, shrugging on his crumpled robe. "And I'm on sabbatical. Kingsley asked me to go with you himself. After all, we all know what happened last time you went on a research trip."

Hermione glared at him. Harry smiled cheerily back at her.

"Cambodia was an exception," she finally mumbled. "Is there anybody you didn't tell about the private research that I've been doing?"

Harry pretended to think about it, then smirked. "Molly. You can do that yourself."

Hermione's jaw dropped, and Harry chose that moment to disappear into the floo. "Traitor!" she called after him, but he was already gone.

Hermione sank into her armchair, and noted with a mixture of fondness and irritation that Harry had tidied up after her. The original scroll, precious and seemingly ancient, had been covered in a multitude of preservation charms. Her translation of it was stacked neatly together, bar the scrolls Harry had likely just finished reading, and all her reference books had been organised alphabetically.

"You're bastard, and I love you," she murmured; half to herself, and half to the man who had just left the room.

"Brazil!" Molly sobbed into her shoulder. Hermione cast an anxious glance at the portkey in Harry's hand. It hadn't started glowing, indicating that they only had half a minute to go, but it was due any second yet.

"Don't you let them fatten you up for an offering again," Molly continued, hugging her so tight Hermione could barely breathe.

"One time," she hissed, as Harry chuckled.

"Come now Molly, she's got me with her. What could possibly go wrong?" Harry said, then he winced. Deathly silence fell over the group of people that were seeing them off.

"Oh, you just had to say it!" Ron exclaimed. Molly released Hermione, and turned to her new victim.

"There are snakes over there! Poisonous ones! If I heard one word about you trying to fight them with the sword of Gryffindor, I'll come over there and sort you out myself!" It was Harry's turned to be smothered. She merely smirked as he tried to placate a nearly hysterical Molly.

"Have fun," Ginny said, and wiggled her brows lasciviously. She stuffed a handle of items into to Hermione's pocket. "Just in case," she said, and winked, before retreating to Dean's embrace. Hermione frowned, and was about to investigate what she'd been given, when the portkey began to glow.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, surging forward.

"Come now, love," Arthur said, pulling Molly away. "They'll be alright. They've got each other, after all."

"Goodbye!" the Weasleys and their partners chorused as both Harry and Hermione took hold of the scarf that was doubling as their transport. Harry was bright red from something Ron had whispered just after he'd been rescued from Molly.

But Hermione forgot about all that the moment she felt the familiar tug in her belly. The portkey tore them through space, and she staggered as they landed in Belém, in the foyer of the Brazilian Ministry of Magic. Harry, of course, had tumbled to the floor, but he was rolling to his feet seconds later.

The first, and easiest part of their journey was complete. They were in Brazil.

Hailing a taxi cab and arriving at the edge of the suburbs had been a harrowing experience that Hermione never wanted to repeat. The last five minutes had been upon a dirt track, and even Harry was looking queasy.

"Worse than the Knight Bus," Harry groaned as they tumbled out of the car.

"Worse than Ron's driving," Hermione agreed. She paid the cabbie, and looked around.

They were on the outskirts of the city, where the rainforest was encroaching upon the urban sprawl, weeds growing in the cracks of the sparse pavements and shanties built under the canopy of towering foliage. She could feel eyes upon her, no doubt being thought of as easy prey by the locals that would soon be brave enough to see what exactly two tourists as strange as Harry and she were doing in their part of town.

A casual flick of her wand cast a small muggle repelling charm. Harry, who'd also been glancing about warily, nodded at her.

"So… this is where your maps start?" he said. He bounced upon the balls of his feet.

"Or close enough," she answered. From her beaded bag, in which was everything she'd ever need for this trip, and more, she withdrew a compass that she'd enchanted. Instead of pouring over a map every time they lost their way, they just had to consult it. It didn't point North, but in the direction that they were supposed to go, at least according to her scrolls.

"This way," she announced, and marched forward, Harry trailing behind her. She tucked her bag back into her belt, and looped the compass around her neck.

"How long do we have to walk for until we can whip out our brooms?" he asked, as if he hadn't asked her that every single day they'd been preparing for this trek. Instead of answering, she flipped him the bird.

"'Mione…" he moaned.

"At least an hour outside of civilisation."

They were dressed in soft lightweight robes that clung to their limbs rather than draping loosely, and were spelled to be waterproof, regulate their heat and ward away bugs. On their feet were walking shoes, and they both wore hats, sun cream and sunglasses.

As they walked deeper into the forest, Hermione couldn't hold back her shiver of excitement. As a child, she'd poured over books upon the Amazon rainforest, peering at the pictures and reading about the creatures that lived within.

The books were nothing upon the majesty of the Amazon in real life. The leafy green foliage gave way to bright bursts of colour of the flowers and fruit drooping off the trees. Vines strangled the massive trunks, climbing toward the light. Animals screeched, and insects buzzed, the forest noisier than she could ever imagine. And while they were still walking upon a path, it was narrow and fading away with each step they took. The sunlight created a dappled twilight, and the further in they went, they darker it became.

She stepped on a twig that cracked particularly loudly, and a flock of birds cawed their displeasure, bursting from the canopy in a flurry of movement. She giggled, pausing, and felt Harry's hand rest upon her shoulder.

"Hey," he whispered. "This is amazing."

Hermione turned, and he was much closer than she'd realised. "It is," she answered, unable to keep a smile off her face. He grinned back, and they stood there for a long moment.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I think we can use the brooms now."

A strange looked crossed Harry's face, then he laughed. "Excellent."

She withdrew them from her bag, two of the latest model that had been slated reliable and comfortable.

"I hate flying," she muttered.

"I know," Harry replied, with a smirk. He mounted his broom, cast a light disillusionment charm upon himself, then shot up into the sky, dodging branches just like he'd dodged bludgers once upon a time.

"Show off," Hermione grumbled. She cast her own charm, and then carefully followed him up.

They breached the emergent layer of the forest. Beneath them was a sea of green, and as a child she'd thought it looked like endless florets broccoli. In the distance, she could see the glint of the Amazon river as the early afternoon sun reflected off it.

Harry was swooping about, performing all sorts of silly tricks, but he drew close once he spotted her. "I'll follow your lead."

Hermione checked her compass, angled her broom, and flew.

A heavy plop of rain on her nose was all the warning they had before the sky darkened. Abruptly, Hermione pulled up, so quickly Harry nearly crashed into her.

"Afternoon monsoon!" she called over the howl of the building wind. The rain began to fall faster.

Together, they dived for the forest floor. She pulled their trusty tent from her beaded bag, and with practised ease, they set up camp, Harry casting the wards as she the spelled the tent into submission. Despite their speed, and the spells on their clothing, they were still soaked through when they tumbled into their shelter, laughing as the rain poured down around them, thundering on the canvas outside.

"I'm bloody glad we're wizards," Harry declared as he stripped out of his robes. They plopped to the floor, lying in a puddle. Hermione glanced at him, and blushed when he caught her admiring the v of his hips. He winked, and she glared at him. She stripped too, wrapping herself quickly in a fluffy towel she heated with a flick of her wand.

She then jabbed her wand toward their clothes, which began laundering themselves. Their pockets were emptied, and a string of condoms and some lube flew out of Hermione's robes and into her hands. She stared down at them in shock, and Harry burst into surprised laugher.

"Ah – Ginny!" she cursed. "That meddling…"

"Bitch?" Harry offered, and snorted.

"Yeah, bitch," Hermione muttered, feeling as if the word were too kind. She stuffed the condoms into her bag, and swore to get her revenge upon the woman when she returned.

Their days were repetitive, but not monotonous, as each new dawn there was a different delight to witness, whether it be the preening birds of paradise, screaming howler monkeys, or the python Harry had attempted to converse with, and sorely failed. In the afternoons, they continued to fly until the rains began, and then they settled down for a relaxed game of rummy, or tense game of exploding snap. The nights, however, were Hermione's favourite part of their trip. As she lay there, listening to the sounds of the rainforest, she'd never felt more at peace. While Harry complained of the constant noise, it lulled Hermione to sleep. She'd wake with the dawn, her body thrumming with energy, and explore the waking forest while Harry dozed for another hour or so.

Hermione felt as if she was coming home.

They'd been travelling for just under a month, when Harry zipped past her, pulling up.

"We're going in circles," he said bluntly.

Instead of being disappointed, Hermione was delighted. Harry obviously hadn't been expecting that reaction.

"At last!" She dove through the trees, jumping the last few meters in her haste. From her indispensable beaded bag, she withdrew the final translation of her parchment.

"For when the path has no end, find the great Mother Lupuna and beg your case to the spirit of the forest, but be warned, only the worthy shall find entrance, strong of heart and soul and blood," Hermione recited. She shoved the parchment back into her bag, grinning.

"A path with no end – it must be a circle, and the La Lupuna refers to the great trees of the rainforest, with trunks over ten meters wide."

"Amazing," Harry said, his eyes soft. He had drawn very close.

"Isn't it," she exclaimed, and Harry drew even closer, their bodies almost touching.

"Mm yes," he replied. He settled a hand upon her waist, and the other stroked along her jawline. "But I meant you."

He captured her mouth in a kiss, his lips soft and sweet. Hermione sighed, allowing herself this one moment of perfection. His body was warm and strong, and as she clutched at his shoulders, something precious blossomed inside her heart.

"Harry," she murmured into his lips. "You have the worst timing ever."

He chuckled, and stepped back. "We've all the time in the world. But, lead on."

Hermione shivered, and took a breath, centring herself.

"Alright. Look for a La Lupuna tree – the widest and grandest there is."

They walked aimlessly through the forest floor, hand in hand, even though they likely would have covered more area separately. But Hermione was loathe to release Harry now that she had him, and he seemed perfectly content.

And then she saw it. The tree towered above the others – how she'd not seen it before she didn't know. It was so wide the gnarled roots extended into the bush as far as she could see, and there was something about it that called to her.

"This is it," Hermione said. She surged forward, dragging Harry behind, and placed her hand upon the bark. It felt as if it had a heartbeat, throbbing beneath its ancient skin.

She knelt, without removing her hand, letting it slide down the trunk, for she refused to lose that connection for even one second. She brought Harry's hand forward too, pressing their entwined fingers against the tree.

"We are pure of heart, and pure of soul and I am of the blood," she said, head bowed. "Grant us entry, oh great Mother."

There was an electric moment where it felt as if the entire Amazon Rainforest was evaluating her, and Harry gasped, surely feeling it too, and they struggled under the weight of its gaze. Then the tree pulsed, and like liquid, the trunk parted to allow them entry.

Hermione stumbled to her feet, and together, they walked through ancient wards older even than Hogwarts'. The very air buzzed with magic. In the distance, there was the clamour of conversation, but before that, waiting for them, was a group of women that Hermione did not recognise, but felt as if she intimately knew, clad in dark tunics, vibrant paints, and beaded and feathered jewellery that matched the fierce expressions upon their faces.

"The Amazonians," Hermione breathed. "My ancestors."

"Welcome, sister Hermione," said the woman with the most intricate markings, her voice like chocolate. In one hand she held a spear, and the other was settled upon a wand secured at her hip. Her eyes were bright, and there was a hint of a smile upon her lips. "We have been waiting for you."

Word count: 3184