Chapter 1: Through the Looking Glass
Hermione awoke with a start, her back ached from the way she had slept against the wall and her body throbbed dully. Hair fell over her eyes in a tangled mess and dry blood crusted against her was able to stand with some ease, having regained some of her energy. It was pitch black, a state that she remedied easily by casting a Lumos. Light emitted from the tip of her wand. Her eyes darted towards the walls which were covered with a green substance. She touched it hesitantly. It was moist and slippery, like algae, she mused. It occurred to her then that perhaps she was located somewhere beneath the lake.
Backing up from the wall, she raised her wand in perusal of the surrounding vicinity. It was an apparent dead end, with no means of escape but up or forward. With little choice, she willed herself to walk. There weren't any alternate paths so she didn't have to worry about getting any more lost than she already was. Smirking cynically at the thought she kept walking in silence. Hope bloomed in her chest when a breeze caressed the her cheek until it dawned on her that a proper breeze did not seemingly pull one in. It was like a vacuum. She paused mid-step, hesitating. Her instincts were pleading with her to turn back, but there was nowhere for her to go. Pushing aside her fears, she moved on again.
The scent of earth diminished and was replaced with a sulfuric odor. Scrunching her nose in distaste, Hermione batted the air in a futile attempt to make it go away. A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck and attempted to distract herself with thoughts of the long, luxurious bath that awaited her once she escaped this mess.
A dim light up ahead prompted her forth quicker. Her pace grew swifter until she was practically jogging. The light grew in brilliance as she grew nearer until finding herself in a vast cavern. Central to the room stood three large pillars that encompassed a tarnished, silver basin resting in the middle atop a pedestal.
Hermione took in sight, awed, "Well, here's something new for the history books..."
Smoke the color of a sickening green spiraled in the air over the bowl. She considered the possibility that it was a pensieve before reconsidering the idea. Foregoing any means of precaution, she began her approach. The moment she stepped past the encirclement of the pillars, the light from her wand was snuffed out like a candle. Hermione eyed it curiously and pocketed it. She hadn't even taken one more step before she began to feel a searing pain in her abdomen. Hermione lifted her shirt. The previously healed wound had opened once more; blood flowed out, this time with a vengeance. She grabbed her wand and cast a healing spell. The wound remained open. Her magic had somehow been cancelled out.
She rushed toward the entrance of the cavern, but a newly erected barrier sent her crashing back. Blood seeped through her clothing. With one hand pressed against her wound, the other patted the floor in search of her wand. It was only then that she was made privy to the elaborate display of carvings in the ground. Wherever blood fell, it would trace it's way through the carvings toward the pedestal. When applying pressure to the injury did little to help, for the second time in the last twenty-four hours; Hermione thought she was going to die. Albeit, bleeding out in the middle of nowhere was a less glorified way to go than fending off Death Eaters...
Staring at her blood-stained hand, she winced. She had never felt so helpless. She gripped her shirt and ripped the cotton material easily, fastening it around her stomach. Moving toward the surrounding barrier, she touched her fingers to it, feeling the pulse of magic sizzle against her skin. Sighing exasperatedly she turned away to the source of all the activity. The pattern on the floor was completely traced through with her blood. It glittered in the ethreal light maliciously. Her brown eyes darted towards the pedestal. She watched, horrified and light-headed, as the smoke began twisting more vigorously than before.
Obsidian liquid started to rise from the silver basin. Hermione flitted across the small area in panic, pounding on the invisible barriers in some hope that they might relent. She was trapped; her heart beat in her chest, fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird. She backed up against a pillar for support, should her knees decide to give out on her. Her eyes widened in fear.
The blood ran its course up the sides of the pedestal and into the basin. She watched as the liquid mass grew in size until the bowl could no longer contain it. The blob spilled over onto the ground in a huge mess. She whimpered as she watched it twitch and wriggle on the cold floor. Her breathing quickening at a protrusion; something was trying to free itself from within the confines of the placenta-like material. The slimy surface ripped and a human hand emerged, followed by an arm shortly thereafter until the body of a full-grown male manifested itself, a very naked full-grown male. Hermione admonished herself when she felt her cheeks grow warm that this wasn't exactly the best time to be acting modest.
The magical pulse throughout the cavern subsided and the barriers dissipated. Hermione, however, was too entranced in the man before her, in pure fascination, to realize. His face was concealed by wet strands of ebony hair that cascaded down his back and new muscles twitched beneath his pale skin. He hacked a few times as his new lungs began taking in oxygen. She remained stock still as the man took in his surroundings, her breath hitched when eyes, silver and piercing as a sword, landed on her person. He scrutinized her carefully, his gaze lingering upon the blood-stained cloth wrapped around her torso. She unconsciously adjusted an arm to shield it from his view.
He stood up shakily and stumbled towards her. Hermione was too scared to move and only pressed her body further back into the pillar behind her. He stood before her, legs shaking like a newborn faun. When he reached out for her, she hastily moved out of his grasp, prompting a grunt as his eyes stared her down, a glint of annoyance stirred within their depths. Slender fingers reached out to her once more and she watched as they descended down upon the wand protruding from the pocket of her tattered jeans. When she made a move to grab it he tugged it out in one swift movement. Triumph lit up in his eyes.
Hermione reached for it again, but he dangled it above her head out of her reach while lifting a finger and waving it back and forth in a silent, "No, no, no…" She frowned and made it seem like she had given up, but at the last minute she quickly made a jump for it, failing miserably and irritating her wound further.
A smirk split across the man's face and his chest rumbled with something she assumed was a chuckle.
"I'll be needing that back, if you don't mind." She voiced.
He ignored her and lifted the wand, flicking his wrist harshly. She flinched at the motion and watched a green light burn at the tip. He aimed the wand at her and she gasped. With another flick she felt a warming sensation in her abdomen. Her bandages had disappeared and her skin unmarred. Her hands flew to the area in disbelief. She tilted her head back up, wrapping her arms consciously around the exposed flesh, a blush staining her cheeks. The stranger rolled his eyes at the gesture, tapping the wand to his chest. Thread spun itself around his form until he was fully clothed in regal, forest green robes and his hair was pulled back revealing the contours of his face. He cleared his throat, instigating another onslaught of hacking.
When he spoke his voice was rough and a bit hoarse, "What is your name, girl?" He asked in a jaded tone.
She mentally stumbled over herself, "Hermione, Hermione Granger."
Hermione noticed his breathing still and his shoulders tense as he turned his sharp gaze on her yet again, arching an eyebrow in the process."Granger? Definitely not a surname of pure decent, a half-blood, I take it? Or perhaps, a mudblood?" He muttered and was amused to see the girl's once doe-like eyes flare up in anger.
Hermione was seething,"May I have my wand back?"
He looked her over before answering, "You provided no reason for me to trust you. Should you wish to be rid of me, what then? I have no desire to wallow in the darkness that is death anytime soon."
"What do you mean? Who are you exactly?"
"Lord Salazar Slytherin."
He was startled, to say the least, when the woman in front of him promptly erupted into a hysterical fit. Hermione had to clutch onto the pillar for support as her giggles slowly progressed into boisterous laughter. She gazed at him. The man even had the decency to appear affronted.
"I find no humor in my given name. Care to explain?"
Wiping the tears from her eyes, she laughed lightly, "I just resurrected Salazar bloody Slytherin…" She spoke aloud, as if affirming it made the situation any less surreal.
"I beg your pardon?" The girl maintained the vocabulary of a brigand.
She looked up at the self-proclaimed founder of Slytherin. "Should I be expecting the rest of the you lot to come oozing out of that thing?" Hermione gestured toward the silver basin.
He assumed she meant the rest of the founders and promptly responded, "Of course not, you fool." Salazar eyed the girl in irritation.
Hermione began to feel the effects of her ordeal. Emotional along with physical stress added up to one very ticked off woman and Salazar was unknowingly pushing all the right buttons. She stalked over to the man and poked him roughly in the chest, "Listen, Sally, unless you want to survive long enough to see the sun again, I suggest you keep your negative comments to yourself." She threatened.
He'd never met such an impudent girl.
Salazar grabbed the offending appendage, "Don't, ever, address me by 'Sally' again. It would also be wise to remember who here is in possession of a wand." He squeezed her hand for good measure- the very same one that Bellatrix had sought to render useless- and she winced.
His eyes boring into her own challengingly, she refused to back down, "I assume you are a student."
"You assume correct." She bit back.
"I assume you are of Gryffindor House?"
She smirked, "Ten points to Slytherin." she replied, cheekily.
Even in death, it appeared Godric was mocking him, curse that buffoon. A mudblood and a Gryffindor, he couldn't decide which was worse.
Through the Looking Glass- Lewis Carroll
End Note: You want more? I can give you plenty more…just let me know if you want it. You know what that means…REVIEW! Sorry for any grammatical errors.