Travel Always Broadens The Mind

Summary: Hermione seeks an elusive cure for the lasting effects of a curse Bellatrix Lestrange managed to hit her with during the Battle of Hogwarts. Her life has been lost to endless bouts of pain and despair that have plagued her these last two years. But her luck may finally be changing. A reference to a Dark potion in an obscure book may hold the key to her cure. But where will she find a Potions master knowledgeable enough to brew it? Written for Warded_Portal for the SSHG Winter 2007 exchange.

Prompt: AU, EWE: Hurt/comfort. Years after the final battle, Hermione struggles daily with the after effects of Bellatrix Lestrange's special brand of Crucio. St. Mungo's advises treating the symptoms, but Hermione wants to live her life. She goes to the oldest center of Wizarding population, Alexandria, Egypt, chasing a rumour: a Potions master with a dual expertise in Legilimency. For some reason, he doesn't want to help her. Without knowing his true identity, Hermione must persuade him she is worth his time. Romance, happy ending please. (Bonuses include: archaeology, magical artifacts, history, dusty libraries, and moments of crazy stupid in love).

Disclaimer: Not mine. All characters and settings belong to JKR, et al. I promise to return them when I finish playing with them.

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Chapter Two – Travel Always Broadens The Mind

"All right, you go have a lie in while I run to the store." It was a well rehearsed pattern they had fallen into. She was always a bit run down after a session at St Mungo's. Harry would see Hermione back to her flat, stock her fridge, and in a few days, she'd be strong enough to go it on her own again.

"Don't pick up too much. I'm heading for Egypt in the morning."

"Hermione, you're too weak to travel. You've spent the last two years tracking down rumors and not one of them has proved true. Don't you think it's time to stop?"

"And do what?" she asked angrily. "Give up? The Healers haven't been much help. If I don't keep looking, no one will."

"I just..."

"Don't." She held up her hand, cutting her friend off and stopping the argument. "You didn't do anything. If anyone is at fault, it's Lestrange's for hitting me with this curse. Now, go. I want to take a nap."

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Morning arrived quickly enough. Hermione held the Portkey tightly in her right hand, her left still weak from the last round of pain she'd suffered. She felt the sharp tug behind her navel that signified Portkey travel and closed her eyes. She stumbled a bit upon landing – next to flying, Portkeying had to be her least favorite form of travel.

"Easy there, Miss. Wouldn't want you to fall."

A hand at her shoulder steadied her. Ignoring the dizziness she was feeling, Hermione opened her eyes and took in the Ministry office. The Ministry of Magic in Epygt was as impressive as that of Britain, just on a different scale. "Thank you."

Within minutes she found her way to the entrance of the magical section below the main library. An old witch, magically sorting books, was working behind the main counter.

"Excuse me."

"Eh, what is it?" The hag had yet to look up from her work, books flew back and forth between cases lineing the walls behind the desk. "Speak up, I haven't got all day."

"I'd like to see a copy of Conjuring the Darke by Besyrwan Prosm please."

Two of the books currently careening between the desks wobbled before losing altitude and fell to the floor below. Several other tomes lost height as the witch turned to look at Hermione. She took a step closer, peering suspiciously at the young woman over the top of her spectacles. "You want to see what book?"

Hermione cleared her throat. She really hadn't thought this would be a problem. "Conjuring the Darke by Besyrwan Prosm. It was cited as a reference by Master Th..."

"Do you have any idea how dangerous that book is?"

Her face brightened immediately. "Does that mean you have it?"

The witch peered closer. "Who are you? Do have any form of identification?"

Hermione sighed as she reached into her bag, librarians the world over all seemed to be the same. "My Apparition license."

The woman disappeared through a door in the back wall. Hermione could hear raised voices, but couldn't make out the words. It was another minute before an older gentleman, sporting a full walrus-style mustache, appeared in the doorway. He glanced back and forth from Hermione to the license several times, verifying she was indeed the witch in the picture.

"I know it's not a very good likeness. I've been ill for a while, but if you'd like, you can contact the British Ministry of Magic. They can verify who I am." Her face had thinned out since the photo, her hair having lost some of it fullness. Constant pain played havoc with her system.

"You're that Hermione Granger? You're Harry Potter's friend?" he asked, his voice a whisper. The man's eyes widened. She found quite a few people reacted oddly to Harry's name, almost as if saying his name would bring Voldemort back. "Is there a problem? Is that why you need this book?"

Right, got it – she was researching how to get rid of the next Dark Lord. Half smiling, she shook her head. "I was hit with an Unforgivable, the Cruciatus Curse, during the Battle of Hogwarts. Somehow the casting was different. I still have residual problems due to the curse two years later. I found a reference to that book that may help cure me. Please tell me you have the book?"

The man looked at the license, then at Hermione one more time before coming to a decision. He opened the half-door hidden in the counter and motioned Hermione through. "The book is in our 'lock-down section.' I can't allow it to leave the library, but you may view it there, if you like."

The old witch's eyes opened wide. In all her years at the library, no outsider had ever been allowed in the 'lock-down section,' too many old and irreplaceable books, not to mention dangerous tomes, to allow just anyone down there.

Hermione followed the man through the doorway, past his office, and through another door before descending a rickety stairway. "I can't thank you enough, Mr...?"

"Agnitio. Jonas Agnitio." As they reached the bottom of the stairway, he removed his wand. Several spells later, Hermione was standing in a musty vault, the walls lined with old books. He motioned her to a table in the center of the room and proceeded to pull several books from the shelves. "I believe these might have some mention of the curse. I don't know if they can help you or not."

"Mr Agnitio, thank you. You don't know how much this means to me."

Silently, he watched Hermione open the first book. Once again he seemed to come to a decision. Summoning a quill and a piece of parchment from a side table, he wrote down a name and address. "Several years ago my brother met a young British woman, a witch, who was working outside the city on an archeological dig. They fell in love and married. My brother moved back to London and was very happy with Kate for a number of years. But it was not to be; Kate was... Muggle-born. One night a group of Death Eaters raided their home, torturing and killing my brother and his wife. Your Ministry refused to acknowledge the evil that had taken their lives. While it might not have saved my brother's life, I'm grateful to you and Mr Potter, and the others, who did what your government would not." He thrust the parchment toward Hermione. "I don't know if he can help, the man is a bit unsavory, but I do know he traffics in rare and unusual ingredients. In the past he has been able to procure some uncommon potions, always boasting about what he knows and whom he knows. He was able to help my wife when none of the Healers could."

"Thank you, Mr Agnitio, thank you." Hermione jumped up and hugged the man, tears filling her eyes. "I am so sorry for your loss. I don't know what to say. But this..." She held the bit of parchment.

"I hope he can help you. Tell him I sent you. I'll be upstairs if you need me."

Her hand shook as she started taking notes; first thing tomorrow morning she would see the merchant. She was usually blessed with a day or two of relative ease after such an intense bout of pain. She could only hope he had what she was looking for.

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Early the next morning Hermione set out for the address on the parchment. She had found research to suggest that the effect of the curse could be dampened, but nothing concrete. Despite a mild episode of pain, and a bit of taunting by the ever-present psychotic voice that morning, she was in high spirits, tracking the first positive lead in a long time.

The bell on the door jangled as she stepped into the apothecary. The scent of herbs and other ingredients assaulted her senses, transporting her back to Hogwarts and Potions class.

"Can I help you?" A small, dark man of questionable age watched her suspiciously as she approached the counter.

"Are you Omar?"

"What do you want?"

"Mr Agnitio said you might be able to help me. I need a potion to stop the effects of the Cruciatus Curse."

"Wait a week, the pain will be gone by then."

"Not this time. Something was different in the casting of the curse. I still have pain two years later."

The little man's eyes narrowed. "Sorry to hear it. What do you want me to do?"

"Mr Agnitio said you helped his wife." The two stood eyeing each other across the counter. "Please, I've come a long way looking for a cure."

"I can sell you some powerful pain potions if that's what you're asking." Omar didn't move.

"There is a book, Conjuring the Darke by Besyrwan Prosm. It suggests there is a potion that may dampen, if not stop altogether, the effects of the curse."

"There is a Potions master I deal with. I'm not saying he has this potion you need, but if I contact him, it's going to cost you." He had looked Hermione over, top to bottom, and decided he might be able to profit from their transaction if her appearance was any indication. She looked too classy, in his estimation, to be poor.

"I'll pay whatever you want if you can get me the potion."

"I'll owl him tonight. Come back in the morning."

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Severus swore under his breath when he heard the owl outside his window. The ruddy bird would just have to wait. Fourteen more stirs counterclockwise followed by six clockwise or the potion would be ruined. Finishing his work, he set the glass rod to the side, lowered the flame under the cauldron, and went to open the window.

He recognized the bird immediately as belonging to Omar. He'd already authorized his solicitor to pay the wizard for his last order; he couldn't imagine what the thief might want now. The only contact Severus ever had with the man was when he sent him purchase orders. Occasionally, he'd have to owl with questions about an ingredient – was it picked under the new moon or a waning moon, sliced with a cycle or harvested with a silver knife, questions that could change the properties of the ingredients. Omar had been directed to send all bills and questions to his solicitor. He didn't have time to worry about paperwork. That's what he paid Dempster, Wiggle, & Worth LLP for.

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The Prince's Moste Potente Potables

London, England

Master Prince,

A witch was in my shop earlier this evening requesting a rare and Dark potion. I believe the potion she seeks is the Potion of Glador. Since I know you have been able to fill various requests for me in the past, I hope you will be able to do so now.

The woman claims to still be suffering from the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse two years after it was cast. I'm sure Dark magic, greater than usual, must have been used when the curse was cast. She is not looking for a pain potion, but something to stop the curse altogether.

You will be paid generously for your talents if you can supply the potion.

I await your response.

Omar

Severus snorted. The fabled Potion of Glador, rumored to reverse the effects of Dark magic. The man might as well be asking for another Philosopher's Stone. He'd seen references to the potion years ago. Flamel might even have had something to do with it, as far as he could recall. Whatever the potion was, it would require Dark magic if it had anything to do with Unforgivables. He wrote a hasty response and sent it on its way with the owl. He'd wasted enough time for one night.

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Hermione's nerves were on edge as she opened the door to The Glass Phial. While Omar didn't instill trust in his customers, she thought he seemed pretty confident yesterday that he could help her. Wearily, she approached the counter as Omar bagged an order for a customer.

"You're all set. Just remember to reinforce the stasis charm when you get home." He nodded to the wizard as he handed him his bundle.

"Thanks. I'll be back next week."

"You have an order for me?"

Omar took in Hermione's appearance; he could see she was worn out. "I have some extra strong Pepperup Potion, should be the thing to pick you right up."

"Omar, the potion for the curse."

"I'm sorry. He said he couldn't help you." Omar gestured to the scroll in his hand. It was a shame Prince couldn't supply the potion; he could have used the extra money to fix up the hovel he was living in.

Hermione recognized the emblem at the top of the parchment: The Prince's Moste Potente Potables. It was a small, elite firm specializing in rare and unusual potions. Ginny had paid the company good Galleons for a potion to help with conception when she and Harry were trying for a child. She suspected it had been some type of fertility treatment, but considering the Weasleys' natural penchant towards fertility and Ginny and Harry's apparent lack of it, Ginny had sworn Hermione to secrecy, so she'd never asked. However, Lily Potter was born almost nine months to the day Ginny started the potion.

"Well, thank you for your help." She'd look the firm up and contact them herself.

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The Prince's Moste Potente Potables

London, England

To Whom It May Concern:

A friend referred me to your firm. I believe you may be able to help me. I would like to meet with someone from your research team at your earliest convenience and discuss the problem in person.

Thank you,

Ms H. Granger

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Representative for The Prince's Moste Potente Potables

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Hermione balled up the parchment and threw it at the wall. They didn't even stop to ask her what her problem was, just – no thank you, go away. She would find out where the company was located and give them a piece of her mind.

TBS