We say that names mean nothing,
What we mean is that they have nothing to do with the person we are
Or the person we are meant to become.
They have nothing to do with our mind
Or our abilities.
But if we chose to,
we inadvertently follow a path that a name has bestowed upon us.
In all of it's meaningless, it holds great significance.
Whether we choose to acknowledge it's control
Or ignore it.
So what is in a name?
Only you can decide.
The next day was the first real day of seclusion. They were in a completely different wing of the school, one that had been blocked off and warded now that they were staying there.
The rooms were actually pretty large. The only way in was by the portrait which led to the common room. All of the bedrooms branched from the common room. To the left of the fireplace, there was a short hallway led to another corridor surrounded by large stained glass windows. On one end, the hall where they ate was, and on the opposite, was their library. For training, they merely used empty classrooms on the second floor. They could also walk across the grounds, disillusioned of course.
Night had fallen, after the day, during which the four of them caught up on their homework. Dinner had already been served and they were anxiously waiting for Ferro and Meier to come fetch them for a “new” subject that they were going to teach them about.
Hermione was sitting on the couch with a stack of books beside her, flipping through each tome with annoyance and then throwing it down.
She was trying to find stuff on the Vamperum. Since the day she had heard Ferro speak of it or them, Hermione had been enticed into an endless web that held no information whatsoever.
“I can’t find anything in these damn books!” Hermione said exasperatedly, dropping another book onto the carpeted floor.
Ron looked up at her with a frown. “Why are you just dropping them on the floor? You usually don’t treat books and things that way, ‘Mione. And did you just swear?”
She looked up sheepishly at him before bending over to fix the books into a neat stack. Glancing back at Ron, she saw him scowl at something behind her. She turned her head and noticed that Harry and Malfoy were staring at her arse.
Harry turned away with blush staining his cheeks and continued scribbling down answers on his five foot essay on the Draught of Living Death. Malfoy kept his eye fixated on her bottom for a moment, before raising them to her flushed face and smirking.
In a flash, Hermione had the tip of her wand pointed at him and she muttered something under her breath. A second later, Malfoy’s chair collapsed, his pants caught fire, and two rather large and angry boils had broken out on his forehead.
As he tried to beat the flames down, Hermione turned back to Ron. “I’m not in my right mind, anyway. And I called you a clumsy ass, the other day. I do swear.”
“No you don’t,” Ron said simply.
“I only do it when I see the need to, Ron,” Hermione sniffed, sitting back down and crossing her legs. “I just don’t go and throw out words whenever I feel like it, just because it sounds good coming out of my mouth.”
“Really Granger?” Malfoy called out angrily from behind her, the fire out from his pants. “Then why doesn’t that explain why you like to listen to yourself talk so fucking much?”
Hermione scowled blackly at him, although she chose to ignore him. She picked up another book and proceeded to continue her attempts about finding something on the Vamperum.
A couple of moments later, the giggling portrait swung open to reveal Meier and a rather disheveled Ferro behind him. In one long stride, Meier stepped inside the common room.
“Get up,” he said, his voice harsher than it had been last night. “You’re coming with us.”
The four of them were seated in desks in an empty classroom, this time on the fourth floor. The two faeries sat in front of them, Ferro leaning his lean body against the wood and Meier in the chair, with his feet propped up on the desk.
“Does anyone here know anything about our world?” Meier asked. “And when I say our, I mean the world of faeries.”
Hermione raised her hand cautiously and Harry and Ron looked over at her with surprise.
“Did you really expect me to go into the mission without knowing what I was getting into?” she hissed at them, before turning her eyes back to Meier.
“Ms. Granger?” Meier asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not much is known about the origin of faeries…there’re myths about how they came to be. One is that they’re fallen angels, separated into groups of dark and light. Another is that they’re the maggots that began to eat away at the body of the giant, Vladimir, in Norse mythology.”
“The term ‘faerie’ encompasses a large variety of species and races, such as Cornish Pixies and Doxys. But you…” Hermione looked tentatively at Meier and Ferro, both beautiful in their own right. “…you are the Fay or the elves. The most human likes species of faerie.”
“Correct,” Ferro said. “We will continue from there.”
There was a breath of silence and it was so normal in the celestial like atmosphere they were in, that it seemed abnormal. Hermione steeled herself to take in misinformation, rather upset that she’d forgotten to bring a quill and some parchment.
In a cool, alluring and steady voice that they didn’t hear too often, Ferro began to speak.
“Elves are by far the most intelligent and human like species of faerie. We have a society, as you do, with laws and such. In the older days, the world of faeries were separated. There were two courts, alike and different in so many way. Elves ruled the courts, considering that our magic is stronger and more advanced than the other species”
There was the light or the blessed court, basking in the growth of the world and promoting peace, although there were rather malicious, ulterior motives to the light court’s actions. Queen Mab was and still is the queen. The elves that belonged to that court had lighter colored hair and rather light eyes. As you can see, Meier would belong to the blessed court. Water and wood nymphs and pixies were usually found in this court. They dabbled in lighter arts and conversed with mortals regularly.
The opposite was the unblessed court, the kingdom of dark. These faeries usually had trolls and ogres in their ranks, along with the darker species of faeries, including redcaps and pogrebins. The ones belonging to the dark courts used to hunt humans for fun, or other smaller faeries, depending on the area they were in. These are the ones who create mushroom rings and entice mortals into games of wits and riddles with the consequence of losing life. The elves belonging to this court had darker hair and almost translucent eyes. I would’ve been a part of the unblessed court.
“Almost four hundred years ago, The Queens of the two courts decided to unite, considering the number of faeries being killed by their own kind, not to mention that the two rulers were sisters. The Queen of the Unblessed Court, Isle, was killed, although no one is quite sure of who murdered her. Queen Mab then became the ruler of both courts.
“We have been joined since, and the elves of dark and light of mixed, creating hybrids of faerie, stronger than those before considering that we have natural power from both sides. Our grandparents were from the dark and light courts…
“I believe that they met Shakespeare in a little tavern in England and suggested some modifications to his some of his plays. Their names were Oberon and Titania, and I also believe that they appear in another of his works as the king and queen of elves. ‘A Midsummer Night's Dream’, is it called?”
“Yes,” Hermione breathed, in awe of the fact that the faerie standing before her was the offspring of those who inspired Shakespeare.
“Can I ask you a question?” Meier queried from behind the desk, his amber eyes boring into her own.
“What is it?” Hermione asked softly.
“Who are you named after, Hermione?” He spoke her name as if it were a prayer on his lips…it made her shiver.
“A distant relative,” Hermione said, repeating her mother’s words. “But my grandmother was also aiming for Shakespeare when she suggested my name.”
“Well that’s quite a coincidence,” the silver haired faerie said, his lips curling into a smirk as if he knew it wasn’t a coincidence at all. “Our grandparents used to tell us of a remarkable, magical mortal that they knew, who had your name. Supposedly, she met Shakespeare in 1609. They described her and remarkably, you resemble her.”
“Didn’t Aladinia tell us something about transferring their magic to her?” Meier continued, looking at Ferro. He then turned his eyes back on her. “We can do that, you know.”
Ferro was looking at her strangely. “I believe she did.”
There was once again silence and she could feel the other’s eyes on her, as if asking for some type of explanation. Hermione’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment
“It’s only a name,” she said, her voice more shaky than she would’ve wished it to be. Her was heart racing more than a human heart should’ve. “What’s in a name?”
Meier looked at her, his eyes grim and his smirk gone. “Everything,” he answered evenly.
"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet. "
-William Shakespeare, “Romeo and Juliet”
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