Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
The Department of Mysteries held many secrets. Any knowledge the wizarding community had of it were mere rumours – whispers of what was hidden in the London underground. There was the famed Hall of Prophecies, the only room known to exist due to Harry Potter's destruction of it in 1995. Later, people said that he had also found the Love Room there, where Unspeakables carried out their research into one of the strangest forces on earth.
There were other rooms: The Corridor of Time, the Death Room, where a fabled relic of powerful Ancient Magic stood. None of those, however, held Hermione Jean Granger's interest.
After the defeat of Voldemort and the end of one of the most gruesome wars in the history of wizardkind, the war heroes Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley had become Aurors. They had elected to reject Professor McGonagall's offer of an optional eighth year for all seventh year students affected by the war. Hermione, on the other hand, had returned to Hogwarts in order to complete her education. The reason for it, however, was not what her friends and family expected, or even knew of.
For the Weasley family, they were reeling still from mourning Fred. They still went to St. Mungo's every day to see him, praying for him to wake up. George, in particular, stayed with his twin so much that Percy had to take over business at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes temporarily.
In the summer before the re-opening of Hogwarts, after she had tracked down her parents and restored their memories, Hermione had visited often, too. The Weasleys were her second family, and it hurt to see them so lost and adrift.
While Fred lay in a coma, his twin had not smiled once. No more pranks were pulled, no more jokes were played – and the absence of their laughter drove a larger wedge in all their hearts.
Hermione had taken to speaking to him in his coma. George was there almost the whole time, and when she started to talk, so would he. And sometimes, it brought back a glimmer of the lost mischief in George's eyes, and breathed a little life into him. Sometimes, both of them even swore Fred responded: a twitch of his eye, a jerk of his finger, a hitch in his breath. The Healers at St. Mungo's informed them gently that this was likely because of an involuntary response than any conscious effort on Fred's part. Hermione had been disappointed. George had been convinced – and still was convinced – that it meant there was still some hope left.
So when the letter had come for her, asking her if she would be returning to Hogwarts for her eighth year, Hermione thought of the twins. Breathing and alive, but not quite. She thought of all her books and all her knowledge. And she knew she would spend her life trying to bring Fred back, for the sake of her second family, no matter the cost. So she had said yes.
But her decision was not accepted by all. Ron, for one, had disagreed. This disagreement had led to an explosion of screaming and yelling from the both of them.
"I don't understand why you're going back! You can do anything you want now; you don't need to go back!" Ron had shouted.
"It's my decision. I want to do this," she had told him quietly.
"But why? Hermione, I won't be able to see you for months if you do this," he had said, a pleading note in his voice.
"Because I can't stand it, Ron! I can't stand just watching George – I go to St. Mungo's, and he is there, and he is just wasting away!" she had screamed back, tears streaking down her face. "And if I can do something to help, if I can finally put all that bloody knowledge and stupid facts from books together, then I'll bloody do it."
"You don't think it kills me, too?" demanded Ron. "He's my brother! Don't you think it kills me to see that look on his face, that dead look? I look at him, and I see the boy I grew up with, and now he's just… he's just…" He had trailed off helplessly, burying his face in his hands as dry sobs wracked his body.
"I know. I know. But don't you see? If I can help, if there's even the slightest possibility I can…" whispered Hermione. "Ron, I'm sorry, but this is just something I have to do."
"I just don't think I can do this without you, Hermione," he had choked out. "I can't, I really can't. I need you."
"Yes, you can," said Hermione, quietly but firmly. She had wrapped her arms around him, offering what little comfort she could. But there was a rift between them, whether it was always there, or had been a result of all the horrors of war or what she had just told him, Hermione wasn't sure. And she had known then that no matter how hard she tried, how loudly she screamed, that that rift would stay, and Ron would never be able to hear her.
Upon returning to Hogwarts, she had thrown herself into her studies. The months apart had taken a toll on her relationship with Ron. It was something a part of her had known since that fight, but it had taken the separation and the distance for Ron to realise it. That even though he had said that he needed her, that he was helpless without her, he wasn't really. And Hermione, too, had been fine without him – perhaps not completely, but they just hadn't missed each other or thought about each other as much as they should have.
So after she had graduated from Hogwarts with Outstandings and a record score of over two hundred percent in all of her subjects, Ron and her had broken up with each other. They had ended it on good terms, and had stayed friends.
Then Hermione Granger did the unexpected and became an Unspeakable. The only people who had known that she would do this had been Ron and Harry, and the rest of the wizarding world had been shocked. It had made front page news, because the community had expected her to join her two best friends and become Aurors, or at the very least, involve herself in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Yet, Hermione had taken an oath of neutrality and secrecy, and had joined the Unspeakables into their research of the most powerful and obscure branches of magic. She was never to participate in any more wars, never to sell the secrets of magic to any side, be it for good or for evil.
Now, she spent her days in the Department of Mysteries, searching for a way to bring Fred back.
She kept her research in the shadows from her family and friends, as was required by her oath. But also because she didn't want them to know what she was doing. They would only feel guilty, thinking that she had thrown her life away or some rubbish like that. The only person who had an inkling had been Ron, and he too, had been sworn to secrecy.
It took three years for Hermione's research to bear any fruit. By then, George had returned to his joke shop, though still as sombre and hollow. Ron had gotten engaged to Romilda Vane, and Harry and Ginny were expecting their first child. Everyone was moving on, putting back together pieces of themselves after the war. But she remained within the depths of the Ministry. Sometimes, she wondered if it was an effect of the Corridors of Time, that her world alone seemed to have stopped on its axis.
The Ministry Library – access to it was limited to only the Minister of Magic and the Unspeakables – was a large room, such that Hermione couldn't even travel its length in a day if she wanted to. The endless rows of bookshelves, tall as the ceiling, were filled with dusty books, some written in a forgotten language, or in Ancient Runes. It was in one of those books where Hermione found what she was looking for.
"Dominus Somniorum," whispered Hermione, her eyes scanning the faded ink of the words beneath the title.
Dominus Somniorum (The Lord of Dreams) was a spell used by the Ancient Magicians of Egypt to explore dreams. In Ancient Egyptian culture, people who were able to use this spell were called Long-Seers, as they were able to literally travel physical distances in their dreams. Often, they were used as spies. There is also rumour that true Long-Seers were also able to travel between worlds.
She skipped the historical facts and found the section on how to cast the spell.
The caster need only point their wand at their intended target (the individual whose dreams the caster is diving into), and speak the incantation. Unconsciousness will be immediate. The caster must be warned that the journey into the world of dreams may be unpleasant and uncomfortable. The caster must also be warned that should death befall either the caster or the casted in the world of dreams, death in the physical realm may occur. At minimum, the caster and the casted will be forced to endure an endless limbo in which time and matter cease to exist. Some may say this fate is worse than death.
Hermione swallowed as she read that final sentence.
She slammed the book shut and continued searching for anything related to the spell. By the end of the night, she had five thick volumes in hand, three of which only mentioned it briefly, and the other was identical to the one she had found originally. She took all the books back to her office anyway, not willing to risk anything, and studied through the night. When the sun rose in the morning, she knew everything the books had to say about the spell by heart.
She blinked blearily around and sat in silence for a minute, taking in the gravity of what she was doing. What she was actually about to do.
"Well," murmured Hermione, drawing out her wand to Banish the books back to the Library. "Time to go to sleep." She swept away, her jaw set determinedly as she headed toward the exit and made her way to St. Mungo's.
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when she arrived in Fred's room. There was no one else in here – George was clearly still at the joke shop, and as a Weasley, St. Mungo's offered them a few 'benefits', which included a private room for any member of the family.
"Hey," she said softly, leaning over him to press a kiss onto his forehead. "Guess what? I'm going to try and wake you up today."
She gripped at his hand, hoping in vain for some kind of response from him. When none came, she only sighed and kept talking. "I'm going to write a letter for everyone. Tell them what I've done." She paused. "I'm scared, Fred," admitted Hermione. "Not of seeing you – I want to see you again. I miss you. Not even of what I'm about to do. Because we'll wake up; I know we will."
No, the only thing she was scared of was what would happen when they woke up. She didn't know if she could ever be forgiven for this. And she was probably going to be sent to Azkaban when she did, for using her position as an Unspeakable like this.
She had other fears, too – what if Fred wasn't the same? What if it took them years and years and years to wake up?
Hermione's hand trembled slightly as she pulled out her parchment and quill, scrawling a hasty message. She knew George would be in just right about now to see his brother before he opened shop. She had to be… gone by then. She signed her name and placed the folded piece of paper on Fred's chest.
"I'll see you soon, Fred," she said quietly. Her clammy hand clutched at her wand and pointed it at the unconscious wizard shakily.
She could barely hear herself over the pound of her heartbeat, her erratic breaths. I'm sorry, she thought. So sorry.
She could hear footsteps approaching. Probably George. She opened her mouth. The door creaked open.
"Hermione?" came George's shocked voice. "Hermione, what are you doing?"
Her mouth was dry as she said the spell, barely louder than a whisper. "Dominus Somniorum." The instant the incantation left her mouth, she felt a jerking sensation in her gut. She felt as though she was being sucked out of her body and pulled toward Fred, while at the same time, she could feel the sensation of her body crumpling to the ground.
Distantly, she heard a panicked voice scream, "HERMIONE!"
And then she was gone.