Chapter 35: The Sling Ring
"Why are you here? To watch the D.A.?" Hermione glanced at Elian, her tone still sharp with leftover annoyance. Luna stood quietly beside her, a serene presence.
Elian looked from one to the other. He really wanted to tell Hermione to be more like Luna, but he bit his tongue. If he added fuel to the fire now, he'd never hear the end of it.
"Heh. Still mad?" he tried, offering a sheepish grin.
Hermione just huffed and looked away.
He ran a hand through his hair, the words coming out in an awkward stammer. "Look, I… I actually need to talk to you both. About something else. There's… there's more than just the magic we learn here. There's another kind. It's called… the Mystic Arts."
Hermione's head snapped back around, her expression one of pure, unadulterated disbelief. "What are you on about? 'Another kind of magic'? I've read every standard text in the library. There's no 'Mystic Arts'."
She glared, clearly thinking this was a ridiculous joke to get back in her good graces. "I'm not angry anymore, alright? You don't have to invent fairy tales. I just think you're being reckless, drawing all this attention when Trelawney's prophecy is clearly about you! The D.A. is for your own good!"
Luna, however, didn't share Hermione's skepticism. Her large, silvery eyes fixed on Elian with calm curiosity. "Elian, are the Mystic Arts very powerful? Can you show us?"
"Luna, don't encourage him!" Hermione cried, exasperated.
But Luna simply waited.
Elian gave her a grateful smile, gently touching her hair. "You always listen. Yes, I can show you. That's why I'm here—to teach you both. But it has to stay a secret."
Before Luna could answer, Hermione cut in. "Oh, for heaven's sake! Don't take advantage of her trust! Fine, I'm over it. Can we please stop this 'Mystic Arts' nonsense and go? I have prefect rounds." She turned, grabbing Luna's wrist. "Come on. Ignore the storyteller."
She began marching toward the door of the Room of Requirement, tugging Luna along. Over her shoulder, she called, "Are you coming or not?"
Then she froze.
Her steps halted mid-stride. Her eyes widened, her jaw going slack.
Luna simply tilted her head, a fascinated smile touching her lips.
Behind them, Elian had not followed. He stood facing the opposite wall. On the fingers of his left hand, a simple bronze ring glinted. His right hand was moving in a slow, deliberate circle through the empty air.
And as his hand moved, it left a trail of sparks. Not the familiar sparks of a wand. These were fiercer, brighter, spinning out from his fingertips to form a perfect, blazing circle of golden-red light. It hung in the air, sizzling with silent energy, growing until it was taller than he was.
But the impossible sight wasn't just the ring of fire.
It was the view through it.
Through the shimmering portal, Hermione could see two figures. One had a bushy mane of brown hair and wore Gryffindor robes. The other had long, pale blonde hair and Ravenclaw blue. They were standing with their backs to the view.
A cold, disbelieving shock shot up Hermione's spine. She whirled around.
There, floating in the air in front of her and Luna, was an identical, fiery portal. And framed within it, she could see Elian's back, his hand still tracing the circle.
What… how…
Before her brilliant mind could even form a coherent question, Elian stepped forward. He walked straight through the portal in front of him.
And emerged, whole and solid, from the portal hanging in the air in front of Hermione and Luna.
The portals winked out of existence with a soft fizz, leaving no trace but the faint scent of ozone and the utter demolition of Hermione Granger's understanding of magical law.
She stood paralyzed, her thoughts a howling void of static. Apparition? No, you can't Apparate inside Hogwarts. A Portkey? That required a touched object and a horrible tug behind the navel. Advanced Transfiguration? A complex Illusion? Every theory she grasped at shattered against the simple, witnessed reality: he had created a doorway in space. Without a wand. With a ring and a gesture.
Her eyes dropped to his hands. No wand. Just the ring.
"Do you believe me now?" Elian's voice was quiet, utterly serious. "That was a Sling Ring portal. A tool of the Mystic Arts."
Hermione stared at him. She managed a shaky nod, then shook her head, as if trying to clear it. She bit her lip, a storm of emotions—awe, fear, dawning, terrifying comprehension—warring on her face.
Her voice, when it finally came, was a whisper laden with the weight of a hundred rewritten textbooks.
"It is you," she breathed, the pieces clicking into a terrifying, wonderful place. "You're the one from the prophecy. The traveler. You knew all along."
(End of Chapter)
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