Knowing she can't completely help Korrin up, Hermione moves to brace her free arm around her back, hoping to at least make it easier for her to get to her feet. Seeing the obvious signs of pain on her face makes her wince a bit in return, and she feels doubly bad for it, if possible. For now, she tries to minimize her guilt by carefully gathering up some of the papers Korrin had dropped upon her fall, babbling all the while.

"I'm sorry, I should have cleared that out as soon as it had happened! Granted, with the way things have been going, I probably would have set the entire tower on fire. I've just been going over the elementary spells I'd first learned; I'm trying to see at what difficulty things start getting, well... difficult."

Trying to gather the letters as neatly as she can without reading them, Hermione sighs. "I'm having trouble with even some of the spells I'd learned my first year in school. Mind, I'm currently in my seventh year, and doing reasonably well. A Bluebell Flame has always been one of my better spells, and I can just barely manage that here before I start feeling... drained."

Looking up at Korrin with a small, thoughtful frown, she asks, "Is that something that happens here? At home, not even the most complicated spell can make me feel tired, not unless I've been staying up well into the night trying to perfect it. But here, every time I cast something more complicated than a Stunner or a Disarming Charm, I feel as though I need to take a bit of a break before I can try the next one. Never mind the fact that the charms aren't turning out right, half the time."

She seems a little alarmed at the thought of a staff, since, as she mentions, "Isn't a staff just a very large wand? If I already have a magical focus...." And then she realizes, almost talking to herself as she gets out her wand and frowns down at it, "But then, if I'm trying to access magic in a different sort of way, I might need a bigger focus."

Staves seem so clumsy to her, though. How do mages run for their lives and make quick escapes when they have something so clunky to carry around with them all the time?

Deciding that it would probably be worth experimenting with, if nothing else, she looks up at Korrin once again and asks, "Is there a way for - rifters, is that what we're officially called? - for rifters to access the Fade? I'm assuming I must have some kind of connection to it, if I came through it and I'm using some form of magic here, so maybe, with a bit of practice, I could at least be somewhat competent again?"

"I suppose a staff would be harder to break... but don't force yourself! I have some dittany back with my things in the library; if it hurts all that badly, I could get it for you. It should help with the pain." Though really, Hermione would have to use the potion sparsely, considering that she has such a small amount of it and injuries seem to be a fairly common thing around here. Still, she'd caused Korrin's fall, so she feels responsible for making sure she walks away from this easily enough.

Hermione isn't sure how she feels about living in a world where she could only use magic if she "connects" to some other, unknown force. It doesn't sound the least bit safe, but she assumes that, if it's such a prevalent force here, the least she can do is allow a native like Korrin to slowly teach her how to tap into it bit by bit and not die in the process.

"Well, we have Freezing Charms and Protection Charms, too, but we also can't summon a dragon, especially not to make it do something on your command. Dragons have their own minds, just like any other animal. I assume that means I can't perform the Imperius Curse here, but given that that's one of the Unforgivable Curses anyway, I don't exactly use it in my day to day. Or at all. The Ministry would have a fit, and rightfully so. And if you mean counter-spells, then of course; our professors would go mad if they couldn't reverse a transfiguration gone wrong or undo a prank jinx."

Though the rest seems fairly self-explanatory, Hermione tilts her head and asks, "By the way, I'm familiar with dwarves, but what are Tranquil? We don't have those back home. Or if we do, we call them by something else." She doubts it, though; whatever sort of people they are, the magical world as she knows it is a bit too rambunctious for anything that sounds so calm and peaceful.

Hermione wrinkles her nose immediately at the mention of blood magic. "Blood magic is in the realm of the Dark Arts, and no, I don't know anything more about that than what's necessary to defend myself against it. The Imperius Curse isn't blood magic - none of the Unforgivable Curses are, actually - but that doesn't mean that the majority of the wizarding world isn't perfectly aware of the fact that blood should remain inside the body whenever magic is involved, unless you don't mind associating yourself with Dark forces."

She's seen enough of the Dark Arts to last her a lifetime, and while she's not exactly fond of the curses, either, she still explains, "According to the official stance of the Ministry of Magic, there are three Unforgivable Curses, and I'm sure most other magical governments probably feel the same way about them. There's the Imperius Curse, wherein the caster can influence the actions of someone else without any outwards signs of such influence. There's the Cruciatus Curse, which causes the victim a significant amount of pain." Her voice hitches just a little at that description, given that she has to stop herself from giving a very detailed explanation of what that pain feels like, having experienced it at length firsthand. But she tries to skip along that as quickly as possible, shaking her head a little before finishing, "And then there's the Killing Curse, which does exactly what you'd think it does, and does it instantly. There's no way to block it, making it the most feared curse in the magical community; only one person has ever survived it." She pauses for a moment before looking down at her shard hand, adding, "The light it gives off when being cast is similar to the color of the rift, which... didn't help to make my arrival any easier."

Looking up at Korrin curiously, she's about to ask after the specifics of this Dispel charm she mentions, but then there's an explanation of Tranquil. It's a little hard to follow; she's heard vaguely of Harrowings, but has no idea what they actually are, other than it's some sort of rite of passage. But that last statement... no, that can't be right.

"Wait... you mean... there's a way for people to... to take away a person's magic? And their emotions? W- what does that leave them with?" Without magic, emotions, or even the ability to dream, are these mages even considered human anymore?

It doesn't surprise Hermione that the Council would be against the Unforgivable Curses and other spells like them, since that just seems like common sense to her. "Good luck telling some people that," she mutters in response to magic not being made for torture. Bellatrix might not have done a lot of physical damage, but Hermione will be carrying the emotional and mental scars of her experience with the mad Death Eater for the rest of her life.

For now, though, most of her focus is on this whole Tranquil business, if only because it sounds like such an outlandish atrocity that she can scarcely believe it's actually in practice. It sounds like the sort of thing that might be considered a fourth Unforgivable Curse if it existed in her world, and she can't help but wonder if Cruciatus would look quite as vile to her in comparison.

"So... they lose their magic but still work on magical theory? Certainly not-... when you say the Circles, certainly you don't mean these are the same people who had a hand in taking their magic away to begin with, do you?" Hagrid still worked for Hogwarts even after he'd been expelled from it, but that had been different, since they hadn't taken away what had made Hagrid Hagrid. "Breaking a person's wand is certainly something I've heard of as punishment, but they can still do a bit of magic and can certainly still feel and dream." What Korrin is describing sounds almost as bad as the Dementor's Kiss, and the thought of something like that being abused... well, there's a reason Voldemort had used Dementors during the war.

"What do you mean, Tranquil were abandoned? People just... lost track of them?" She can't imagine what that must be like, having no hopes and dreams and also suddenly finding oneself alone in the middle of so much chaos.

"What are guidelines for someone being a risk?" Hermione nearly shouts. She assumes that the terms Chantry and Templar have the religious affiliation that they do back home, and the idea of an organized religion forcibly depriving a person of their magic dredges up more feelings than she'd ever had about religion in her life. "How can anyone really think he or she has any right to take that away from a person? You don't know what people will do with their magic and you don't know what people will do with their lives, and it's wrong to just assume the worst and take either away like that."

Arms crossed tightly across her chest, she outright scowls as she explains, "All it takes is one corrupt Templar to make the way this whole thing is organized a failed venture. And people can be corrupted. It doesn't matter if their power is granted to them by magic or by a sword; once it's used towards the wrong ends, then they need to be stopped and there needs to be a way to handle it that's safe and humane for everyone involved."

Fully aware that she's ranting now, she does pace the floor as she complains, "This is why this system doesn't work unless everyone trusts one another. In my world, the magical community doesn't wholly trust Muggles, and so we keep ourselves hidden and self-govern, which works perfectly well when we can tamp down on any problem witches and wizards immediately. But if mages and non-mages are going to co-exist and be fully aware of one another, then they need to learn to respect one another as people, because in the end, that's what they all are."

As much as Hermione likes to believe that she's the level-headed one of the group, there are definitely certain instances wherein she can behave in a painfully hot-headed manner. Anything that has to do with equality and civil rights and people generally being mistreated because of what they are rather than who they are? These are definitely all instances that can set her off.

"Then this Tevinter Imperium needs to be renovated! It clearly has the wrong sort of people in power if they alone are enough to give magic a bad name. Not all of the people there can be-... did you say blood magic and demon summoning?!" Granted, demons aren't the same in her world as they are in Thedas, but she's seen enough of the Thedosian ones to know you don't want to summon them. Blood magic, though? That definitely sounds about the same, from what Hermione has been able to read. "If they're openly practicing that sort of thing, shouldn't someone be able to stop them? There has to be an international council of sorts, where each country is represented and they can all agree on certain acts - magical or non-magical - that are universally punishable, and if there are any signs that one of them is doing something the shouldn't, an investigation can take place and the individuals responsible can be brought to justice. That's how civilizations work!"

Well. Her civilization. And clearly, the United Nations hasn't cured all of the world's problems. But at least having rules and a hierarchy makes it that much easier to know when something isn't working!

Hearing about possession just gets Hermione riled up even more. "Then if mages are susceptible to that sort of thing, they should be protected. They should be made aware of how good their lives are without the influence of these demons. Purposely tormenting or mistreating them is just asking for them to turn towards whatever they can to make themselves stronger. It's just common sense!"

She's sure she must be red in the face by this point, so she forces herself to stop, taking a deep breath and trying to unclench her jaw and just generally relax her muscles. She usually lashes out with some simple hex towards empty space or something that she can fix with her magic, but given her current magical difficulties, she isn't going to take any chances.

"We have schools," she says in a quieter voice. "The students live there from a young age, and the grounds are protected from magical and Muggle influences. We learn about our magic, we learn about our history, we learn about our laws, all so we can function as responsible adults that won't go off and randomly blow things up or hurt anyone just because we can manipulate magical energy. If we break the rules, if we show ourselves to non-magical people or worse, get them hurt, we have authorities within the Ministry of Magic who take us away, and we're given fair trials and sentenced according to our crime." Well. Usually. But she doesn't say as much. "There's no reason a similar system can't be set up here, with younger mages being taught to embrace their magic and learning about the dangers of abusing it. Older mages can do the teaching, and once they've gone through their curriculum, the younger mages will have grown up and can come together with non-mages to set up some of these universal rules and pledge to police themselves fairly. They should be involved in their own lives and the lives of their families. Again, they're people, and people have rights."

It isn't the first time someone seems surprised that Hogwarts isn't more like a prison, and it upsets Hermione even as it makes her fairly proud to call Hogwarts her home away from home.

"We get an acceptance letter once we're old enough and can choose whether or not to attend. We're strongly encouraged to attend, of course, especially people like me, who come from non-magical families. Once there, visits from family or journeys outside the grounds are generally limited, but we do have organized trips into the neighboring village and holidays off. And after we graduate, we choose where we'd like to go and what we'd like to do with our lives. So long as we don't break any laws, there's no reason for anyone to tell us what to do."

Which is something she's taken for granted over the years, she now realizes. The idea that she'd been so concerned about Professor McGonagall making her work so hard for her high marks when there have been mages here who were more concerned about not getting their magic taken away entirely makes her feel sick to her stomach.

"May I sit in on the next meeting, then?" she asks absently, an arm around her middle as she honestly tries not to feel sick. "I can't promise that I won't have to be kept from speaking, but I'll at least try not to do so out of turn and won't otherwise make a fool of myself. I just don't understand how anyone could want things to go back to the way things had been here, if all that you say is true."

As for Tevinter, she shakes her head and remarks, "Revolutions aren't easy. But if it's a revolution in the right direction, it will happen eventually. Maybe someone from here will go back to Tevinter and evoke a positive change. It's a better possibility than waging a constant, outright war."

Hermione knows people who would consider going away to any sort of boarding school to be restrictive, given that they can't simply go to the cinema on weekends or see their family whenever they want to. But at least she gets to see her family, and that's another thing she's taken for granted that she never would have thought would be anything but a given.

"Whether or not they succeed depends on the kind of support they have and the precise words they say," Hermione mentioned with something akin to a scowl. "I've seen politicking go on; the right connections and a few well-placed words are often all it takes to uproot centuries of tradition. The trick is making sure that these connections and words are stepping stones towards a noble end and not a selfish one." Like Dolores Umbridge and her... it must have been sadism that had made her practically destroy Hogwarts during Hermione's fifth year, because she finds it hard to believe it could have been anything else.

Trying not to sound negative, Hermione explains, "I might be a mage according to definition, but I'm not a mage according to my culture or my upbringing. I don't want anyone thinking I'm talking about things I know nothing about. I do know about equality and fairness, and I've been hunted for what I am, even if it had nothing to do with my magic."

Which brings her to her next point, one that she isn't sure any mage here will fully understand. "Because my parents are non-magical, I'm known as a-... well, the proper term is a Muggle-born, but the less-polite word is Mudblood. 'Pureblood' families often looked down on people like me, and during the war, we were thrown in prison or... or worse. It wasn't an easy year, being on the run and wondering if that was going to be the day my friends and I finally got caught." She's quiet for a moment before attempting to shrug it off. "But we survived. Knowing we had support, that we were in the right and had people willing to fight alongside us... it helped. So I might not know as much about the plight of mages as natives such as yourself might, but I certainly know what it's like to be targeted for something beyond my control. And quite frankly, I wouldn't have wanted to control it; my parents are brilliant, putting up with me when they'd never even heard of magic before my acceptance to Hogwarts. Your parents sound just as wonderful, maybe even more so, considering the active stigma against magic here."

"When we're not at war, it really isn't such a terrible place to live," Hermione remarked, smiling a little. "Granted, I'd first heard the term Mudblood when I was 12 and there was no war going on, but Malfoy had been a pretentious bully and has only changed because he'd seen just how dark his Dark Lord had been. Once Voldemort - the Dark Lord in question - was defeated, things got much more bearable. People are only being sent to Azkaban for actual crimes, rather than for simply being part of the wrong bloodline. And I'm back at school, where the worst things I have to worry about are childish taunts... though I haven't heard any of those, really, since the ones who'd do such things seem to be reluctant to speak out now."

Shrugging a little, she throws in, "As for politics, at least that's the same no matter where you are. It's easier to ignore it than do anything about it, at least until you realize that ignoring it will only end up for the worst in the long run."