分卷阅读32（2 / 2）

The lift reached the Department of Mysteries and Malfoy exited toward his office. “You have quite the level head, Malfoy,” Icarus said.

He was answering the other man’s statement, but also couldn’t help but think of Malfoy’s suggestion the week before during his debrief. He couldn’t forget the moment Malfoy had pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and slid it across the table. “I’ve saved some of the inquollis anicorpus leaves.” He’d added rather ominously, “Should the Ministry ever find themselves in a similarly dire situation.”

Icarus had been shocked to find out that Malfoy knew about one of the Department’s biggest and arguably best kept secrets. Only seven other people knew of it, and Icarus still hadn’t discerned if Malfoy had figured it out on his own or if he’d been told for some specific reason. When he’d finished with Malfoy and Potter, Icarus had walked the Charm- Sealed leaves of the plant in question to a specific shelf in The Room of Things that Are Forgotten, Misplaced, Unused, and Certainly Don’t Exist.

He’d had to pass several dozen rows and quite a few recognizable objects that stood out among the piles of the dangerous, the unwanted, and the broken. He caught sight of the Mirror of Erised, the Cloak of Dramatic Billowing, the Pensieve of Broken Memories, but decided to put what was left of the Soul-Catcher near some bit of flesh in a jar he’d long suspected to be Voldemort’s nose.

Epilogue

“As we’ve seen, the curses are radically different from each other but related in that they each pertain to a specific Greek mythos.” Hermione stared at her wall of notes. After two weeks of work, thousands of pages of Ancient Greek texts, hundreds of scrolls depicting different myths, and four very haughty, flirtatious members of the Grecian Ghost Society, Hermione had figured out absolutely nothing about the curses contained within Pandora’s Box. “Merlin,” she sighed and collapsed into a nearby armchair. The room was barren save for the large table that stood cluttered with books, parchments, take away boxes, and the very mysterious item in question.

She stared at the intricate silver box on the conference table. Every time she got an idea, it turned out to be nothing. The forging of the box? Completely normal. The carvings on the box? Typical of their time, perhaps more intricate than normal, but consistent with other findings. Hidden writings, spells, charms? Nothing but the ridiculous lock and key that was obviously made for ease of access and optimal destruction of the world.

Hermione let out a tortured groan and grabbed a parchment off the table at random. It was the list of victims and their curses. Her notes were scribbled all over the page.

Garius Santi—Narcissus, self destructive yet self promoting, beauty?

Elphie Bloomington—Aphrodite, orgy at retreat—sudden drive to be a lovemaking counsellor

Timo Tresden—the goddess Limos—opposition to Demeter, harvest—starvation, ruined his wife’s prized crabapple orchard

Draco Malfoy—the Fates—destiny? Connection to the design

Howard Larson—Gorgon, isolation chamber St Mungo’s

Marianne Ashwell—Midas Touch—Gringott’s sublevel 118

Hermione Granger—Love and Lust—Eros

It was useless. She was never going to figure it out. The specialist from Athens was finally on his way, but she didn’t dare hope that he would find the solution. She missed Ron. She missed Harry. She missed the sunlight on her skin and the cozy warmth of her bed. Merlin, she’d slept at the Ministry more nights than at home.

“That’s it,” she decided. She’d make it home and sleep in her own bed that night next to her fiance. Hermione finished off the kung pao chicken and licked her lips. She’d made quite the mess of it but all her fruitless labors created quite the appetite. She stood and stretched, gathered her things, and then ordered the Chinese take away boxes cleaned with a thoughtless “Purimasseto.”

A red current leaped from Hermione’s chest and shot into the open take away container she’d just emptied. The top of the box closed and fastened itself shut while the whole thing vibrated for a few climactic seconds.

She stood stunned, unable to move, for nearly ten minutes. What had she said? She only meant to cast a clean up spell. Once she gathered her wits, she grabbed the closest book she could find. The Ancient Greek Reference Guide for Wizards and Witches of the Fourteenth Century only had obscure references to something similar but not exact. She threw the book behind her and grabbed the next one. Eight books later, she found the conjugation and translation and started crying.