Something in Hermia's chest relaxed, the constant knot of emotion, concern, and expectation releasing their chokehold just enough for something brighter, joy, relief, gratitude, to fuel this moment. Professor Foxwood's pointed rejection of the chaperone's interference emboldened her just enough to add her retort when the older witch mumbled her general disdain for those she considered too lost in their thoughts.
"Be kind. He can hear you and probably understands you." Hermia admonished, meeting her chaperone in French. The reply that 'no Englishman could truly understand the art of French' had Hermia boldly rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to where it belonged. It struck Hermia, for a brief second, that regardless of his knowledge of her mother tongue, Basil Foxwood seemed to understand her. The feeling was novel.
Hermia took the pages with reverence, not quite believing she was holding the research notes of Basil Foxwood. Her eyes went to the pages in her hand, her mind racing at the possibilities. "Professor, this is amazing. I wonder if Castelobruxo has any further insights. Granted, I am not a scholar of Portuguese and I have no knowledge of the tribal languages." Hermia's eyes danced along the page, grinning when she encountered plant diagrams she could understand. "Can you imagine what it must be like? To encounter flora that has no name in any languages you know? C’est incroyable!" She missed herbology and was still saddened that it had been deemed too 'unladylike' for her to continue beyond her OWLs. However, if her parents thought that would keep her from reading the NEWT-level textbooks, they severely misunderstood their daughter.
Wanting to contribute somehow, to repay Professor Foxwood for his kindness, Hermia gathered the little sparks of courage his encouragement inspired and spoke. "My research has been limited to the Mediterranean and the northern African cultures. I do not wish to get ahead of my notes, but I believe I might have found some early references to different herbal means used to ease the transformation among the Greeks and Romans. There are mentions in the De Materia Medica about common Lemon Balm calming the double heartbeat. Most translations view this as an error and correct the text to 'heartbeat,' but I think that was an error by Muggle translators." Body no longer able to contain her excitement, Hermia found herself at the chalkboard that had been recently cleared. Setting Prof. Foxwood's notes down with care, Hermia grabbed a stick of chalk, unconcerned that 'ladies didn't dirty their hands with chalk.' Firmly in her element, Hermia's delicate script spilled onto the board in the familiar Greek, breaking down the words and the various translations.
"If used in the electrical storm meditation phase, I believe the lemon balm was used to ease the sensation of a dual heartbeat. Of course, this is only my hypothesis. I have found some promising leads in the Arabic texts, but it is too early to tell if the argument will hold." Hermia placed the chalk back in its tray with a triumphant, if hopeful, smile. Her translations were sound, she knew that, but speaking such things aloud felt consequential. This was her research, her work, the questions that pulled her out of bed early and kept her up late. She hadn't dared to present the findings to her own professors, knowing how much disdain the Masters Flint held for anything from the muggle world. This was hers, and here she was, defending a topic she may never be allowed to present. The reality sobered her briefly, the constant reminder that she was only a witch sending a shadow over her eyes briefly. Thankfully, Professor Foxwood saved her from a complete spiral into her despair.
"Please forgive me, Sir. I think I side with your publicist." Hermia ventured, even though playing into the joke lit up her cheeks. "I mean to say, your writing is different. You offer novel perspectives on a discipline that is remarkably...rigid." The irony of that wasn't lost on her.
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