fade rift inbox.

[brainiest]

"Hello, Hermione Granger here. I must be busy, so please leave a message. Thank you very much!"

ic contact for hermione granger at fade rift.
(text, voice, video, action;)

 

Comments

[heirring]

[The reply is very short so as to contain her EXTREME ENTHUSIASM.]

Miss Granger,

I suppose that will be sufficient. Please meet me in Storeroom Eleven of the Gallows library this evening.

Warm Regards,
W.A. Poppell
Research Division
Assistant to the Senschal
Project Felandaris

[brainiest]

[ It really does not take long for Hermione to make her way there, once she figures out where it is. Wand in hand, she hesitates before she peeks around, searching out "W.A. Poppell". ]

Um. Hello?

[heirring]

[Storeroom eleven is exactly what it sounds like - one of many archival rooms off the Gallows library itself, filled with a great deal of crates and shelves of files artifacts and miscellaneous special collections and so on and so forth. A space has been cleared in the center of the overflowing room. A young lady, very blonde and very bored, is sitting on one of the far crates writing in a small notebook with a steel nibbed pen.

Her temperament improves radically at the sound of her name. Brightening by considerable degrees, Wysteria is on her feet immediately. The pen is tucked (seemingly) into the elaborate knot of her braided hair and the little notebook is tossed haphazardly aside to be retrieved at some later moment when she recalls its importance.]

Miss Granger! What a delight it is to make your acquaintance. Properly, I mean. In the flesh.

[brainiest]

[ At least Hermione reckons that she'd have a great deal of fun just looking at things in here - there's so much to see and to learn here, a brand new world that just about makes sense to her, and she's almost so lost in it that she doesn't pick up on the woman waiting for her.

Lifting her head up, she offers a nervous smile, waving one hand. This isn't exactly novel for her - that's what happens when you're best friends with Harry Potter - but it's still odd to be gazed and stared at. ]

It's nice to meet you as well. You - um. What exactly did you want to see?

[heirring]

[Sweeping toward the (more or less) cleared center of the storeroom with a swirl of skirts, Wysteria beckons her closer with an encouraging wave of the arm. Come along, come along; no need to be shy.]

Oh, whatever you think would be best in order to give me a general impression of the practice. I can hardly ask for specifics without knowing what to inquire after. [She laughs over the very prospect; it's a bright clear sound.] Perhaps you might show me the very fundamentals. Whatever you believe those to be.

[brainiest]

[ It's just awkward, isn't it? Showing off in a classroom is different to showing off in front of a stranger, and Hermione pauses, frowning for a moment. ]

Well, some of my spells haven't been working, and some are acting a little different. I suppose that has something to do with being brought here?

[ But at least with a wave of her wand she can light up the tip with a little Lumos. ]

[heirring]

[Wysteria's observation is a very keen thing, a sharp point riveted to the motioned of the wand and the light which flickers to life at its tip in response to her keyword; it does not, however, stop her from talking while she watches--]

That might very well be the case, yes. You would not be the first individual whose Talents or appearance or so on were modified by the passage through the fade. In what way would you say some of your spellwork has been acting differently? --Is the wand a requirement to the work, or are you able to spellweave without it?

[brainiest]

At least it isn't just me. That's a little reassuring.

[ Hermione waves the wand and the light goes out, flexing her fingers around it. ]

I can cast spells without it, but having it helps - almost like something to conduct them? And I have to say the words for most spells, but I was getting better at not needing to say each incantation too.

[heirring]

Oh, how funny.

[She actually does laugh.]

You really are a witch. How charming. --Remind me, where is it that you are from?

[brainiest]

I - yes. That's what we're called?

[ It is actually funny? Hermione's not sure. ]

Britain. A country called England, actually.

[heirring]

I've heard nothing of it whatsoever. You simply must describe it to me.

[From somewhere behind her ear - in the done up twist of her braid, perhaps? -, Wysteria draws fine silvered writing pen. She turns about in a small circle until--Ah! There--she locates the discarded booklet and fetches it back up so she might take notes for herself.]

[brainiest]

Where do you want me to start?

[ It's not as if describing a whole country is that easy, but she supposes she can try? ]

It's a small island and it's run by a constitutional monarchy, with an attached parliament. Some of them know about magic, but for most people it's just a fairy tale.