The Veil of Forgotten Spells

Chapter Five: Echoes of the Past

"The past is never dead. It's not even past." — William Faulkner

The sky over London was painted in muted grays, the city caught in that in-between state where the mist clung to the streets but hadn't yet surrendered to rain. Hermione Granger sat in the quiet sanctuary of her favorite café, the warmth of her tea doing little to dispel the unease curling in her stomach. She was supposed to be writing, but her thoughts were elsewhere—on him.

Draco Malfoy.

She hadn't seen him since their last conversation, an exchange crackling with unresolved tension. His job in magical law enforcement put him in constant proximity to darkness, and yet there was something about him—something fractured, something human—that she couldn't seem to ignore. She hated that she cared.

The chime above the café door jingled, dragging Hermione from her thoughts. She had half a mind to ignore it until the scrape of a chair opposite her made her look up. Draco sat across from her, his face unreadable, but his stormy eyes held something else—something unsettling.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice lower than usual.

Hermione tensed. "I didn't think we had much to say to each other outside of polite insults."

Draco didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small, enchanted evidence bag. Inside was an object that made Hermione's breath catch in her throat.

A silver pendant, tarnished with age and time, its delicate chain tangled. Runes were engraved along the edges, barely visible under the layer of grime. It pulsed faintly, a remnant of ancient magic embedded in its core. A pendant she had last seen at Malfoy Manor, on the floor, when Bellatrix Lestrange had interrogated her.

Hermione's fingers curled into fists. "Where did you get that?"

Draco exhaled slowly. "It was found at a crime scene last night. A wizard was murdered, Hermione. And this—this was left behind."

The café seemed to shrink around them. The memories came flooding back unbidden—the dungeon, the echo of Bellatrix's laughter, the searing pain in her arm.

"That shouldn't exist anymore," Hermione whispered. "It was lost. Destroyed."

"Apparently not," Draco muttered. "And that's why I'm here."

She looked at him then, truly looked at him. He wasn't just bringing her this as a professional courtesy—no, there was something else, something gnawing at him.

"This means something to you, too, doesn't it?" she asked quietly.

His jaw clenched, but he didn't answer right away. Then, barely above a whisper, he said, "There are things about my family's past I thought were buried. This is proof they aren't."

Hermione swallowed against the tightness in her throat. "Did you check for residual magic? Any protective enchantments?"

Draco nodded. "We took it to the Department of Mysteries for analysis. The Unspeakables found traces of Protego Diabolica—a dark fire-shield charm that was only ever used by Grindelwald's followers. But there was something else. A binding spell, ancient, possibly Goblin-made. It was designed to tether itself to a specific magical signature."

Hermione's breath hitched. "Mine?"

"We don't know yet," Draco admitted. "But the Ministry believes this might have been stored in Borgin & Burkes before it surfaced again. Someone wanted it to be found. Someone wanted to send a message."

Hermione's mind raced. Borgin & Burkes had been infamous for its collection of Dark artifacts, some of which had disappeared after the war. If this pendant had been there, hidden among cursed objects, then someone had deliberately placed it at the crime scene. But why?

"Where was it found?" she asked, forcing herself to focus.

Draco hesitated before answering. "Knockturn Alley. The body was discovered outside the ruins of an old apothecary. An Unforgivable was used—Avada Kedavra. No sign of a struggle, no theft. Just the body and this pendant beside it."

Hermione's stomach twisted. "Who was the victim?"

"Malcolm Rowle. Former Death Eater. He claimed he had renounced his ways, but… well, not everyone believed him."

She inhaled sharply. Rowle had been one of the enforcers during the war, known for his brutality. But he had been one of the few who had evaded Azkaban, thanks to well-placed connections and a convenient memory lapse during his trial.

"Do you think this was revenge?" she asked.

Draco shook his head. "If it were, I doubt they would have left a relic from Malfoy Manor at the scene. No, this was meant to be a message. And the fact that it connects to you, to my family—it's not a coincidence."

Silence stretched between them as Hermione considered his words. The logical part of her brain told her to let the Ministry handle it, to walk away. But she knew she wouldn't. Not when her past was clawing its way back to her doorstep.

She glanced at the pendant again. "There's one way to find out if it's connected to me."

Draco's brows knitted. "Hermione, if you're thinking of using—"

"Legilimency," she interrupted. "There might be residual memories trapped in the object. A skilled Legilimens can extract them."

Draco exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "That's dangerous. Especially if the magic is unstable."

"I don't see another way," Hermione countered. "Unless you want to waste time waiting for bureaucratic approval from the Ministry?"

Draco's scowl deepened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small flask. "Drink this first. It's a modified version of Wit-Sharpening Potion. It should keep your mind focused if things go sideways."

Hermione hesitated, then took the flask. The potion burned slightly as she swallowed, sharpening her senses almost instantly. She placed her fingertips on the pendant, closing her eyes, and whispered, "Legilimens."

A rush of images flooded her mind.

The darkened interior of Borgin & Burkes. A hooded figure slipping the pendant into a glass case. A whispered incantation—one she didn't recognize. The scene shifted. A cold alleyway. A pair of piercing blue eyes staring down at Malcolm Rowle as he fell lifeless to the ground. And then—

Hermione gasped, snapping back to the present. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

"What did you see?" Draco demanded.

She steadied herself, breathless. "The killer… I saw their eyes. They weren't brown like Rowle's. They were blue."

Draco frowned. "That narrows it down, but not enough."

Hermione exhaled, gripping the pendant tighter. "There was something else. A spell I didn't recognize. It wasn't just left there as a message—it was enchanted."

Draco's expression darkened. "Then we need to figure out what kind of magic we're dealing with. Because if this was meant to lure us in, we've already taken the bait."

The case was no longer just another assignment. It was personal now—for both of them.