Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.

Chapter II

Part II

Revelations

The woman's mood, if such a thing were even possible, takes a nosedive before I can finish my sentence. She looks at me sourly, as though she has a bad taste in her mouth. Apparently, this sort of thing happens a lot. "Do you have an appointment, Miss…"

"Hermione Granger, and no," I answer as politely as I can manage. "However, he knows I'm coming to see him."

Thumbing through the planning book in front of her, the witch makes several agitating ticking noises with her tongue. Part of me wants to reach out and rip the book from her hand, but that won't gain me admittance into Harry's office. Instead, I wait obediently for her to finish whatever it is she's doing.

"I'm sorry, but Mister Potter does not have an appointment at this time," she says triumphantly before adding, "You can come back next week if it suits you."

Annoyance rises in me like vomit. I don't have time for this. "Excuse me, madam—"

The black-haired witch frowns, elongating the deep lines in her face. "My name's Genevieve."

Somehow it escapes me that she and I are on a first name basis. I feign courtesy once more, though it is quite plain my tone is daring her to interrupt me again. "Forgive me, Genevieve, but as I was saying, I spoke with Harry by Floo not fifteen minutes ago."

The receptionist holds up her giant planner and shakes it at me, as though to make a point. "Be that as it may, Miss Granger," she says with a slight smile, "your name is not written in my book. If your name is not in my book, you don't have an appointment. If you don't have an appointment—"

"That will be all, Genevieve."

I turn to see Harry's head poking out of the nearest door. Genevieve's smile withers on her thin lips as Harry comes to stand in the corridor. "Sir, she is saying she has an appointment with you. Her name isn't—"

"And she does," he says pinching his nose, as though to relieve tension. He looks at me briefly before waving me forward. "Come on, Hermione."

I look to the receptionist, pleased to see that she doesn't have the slightest notion of what to say. "Perhaps you should pencil me in," I say through a clenched smile. Turning for Harry's office, I am intent on displaying every ounce of my amusement. It is childish and in poor taste, but I simply can't help myself when I call out, "And, by the way, number fourteen down on your crossword is 'Hungarian Horntail'."

When I close the door to Harry's modest office, he chuckles freely. "You are unbelievable, do you know that?"

A wide grin finds its way to my lips. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Fourteen down? Are you back at Hogwarts?"

"She was being ridiculous," I counter. "Not to mention rude. I couldn't very well thump her upside the head with her precious planner, now could I?"

"She's new. I haven't had time to properly train her yet. My apologies." Harry takes a deep breath, as if settling in for what I have to tell him. "Anyway, what was it you needed to speak to me about? It seemed quite urgent."

"Yes, it is," I say as I search for a way to broach the subject. Harry and Professor Snape never got along, but I know Harry has held him in high regard ever since that night in the Shrieking Shack and seeing his memories in the Pensieve. I have no idea how he'll react when I tell him that we left Professor Snape for dead that night. Nevertheless, I know I have to tell him. "Look at this," I say as I hand him the autopsy report. "It lists the date of death for Professor Snape as May 4th, 1998, not May 2nd."

Harry looks at the paper quizzically for a moment. "That is odd. I'm sure it's just a mistake. Things were hectic after the war, and the examiner probably just wrote the wrong date."

"Maybe," I say sceptically, "but you know how meticulous the examiners at St. Mungo's are. It is very uncharacteristic for them to be careless. Harry, do you think it's possible…"

"That Snape was alive when we left the Shrieking Shack? No. Absolutely not. I looked into his eyes. All the light had left them. He died clinging to my robes, Hermione. I am certain of that."

"How can you be certain?" I ask despite knowing that Harry wants this conversation to end. "We never checked for a pulse. I know it's an awful thing to think about, but it's at least worth investigating."

"For the last time, Hermione, there's no reason to investigate," Harry bites back, becoming visibly shaken as the suggestion sinks in. "Do you think I would have just left him there if I wasn't one hundred per cent sure that he was dead?"

I walk over to Harry and place a hand on his shoulder. "No, Harry, I don't think you would do that. That's not what I'm suggesting. I'm saying that it's at least possible that you were certain Snape was dead, as was I, but he really wasn't. It's unpleasant to think about, and believe me, I've beaten myself over the thought that we left him there to die. Neither of us would have left if we thought there was any chance he was alive, we both know that." Tears begin to well in my eyes as I force out the next sentence. "What I'm saying, Harry, is that maybe we were both wrong."

Harry shakes his head and sits down at his desk. He picks up the autopsy report and stares at it, rubbing his temple as if nursing a migraine. The two of us sit in silence for several moments as he flips through the pages, looking more and more confused. "This doesn't make any sense, Hermione. What are all these addendums about? And what the bloody hell is Re… Resonare Mortis?"

"That's the other thing I meant to ask you about. I've never heard of it. I thought maybe it was something you had run across or heard someone talking about," I explain. "I see that's not the case."

"No, I have no idea what it is. I can try to ask around, but it might seem suspicious." Harry hands me the document, and I tuck it neatly into the pages of my journal.

"Well we wouldn't want that. Hold off a bit on poking around for information. I'll check and see if I can find anything at—"

"The library," Harry interrupts. "Yes, I figured that would be your next stop."

I nod and turn to leave. Before I reach the door, however, I am reminded of something else. I turn back to Harry. "How come Professor Snape's picture isn't on the wall with everyone else's?"

"What? Oh, that. I tried to tell them to put it up, but they said he was still too controversial a figure. They said hanging his portrait could stir up bad memories, him being a former Death Eater, not to mention Dumbledore's killer. I told them that that was nonsense, but they still refused."

"Controversial." The word leaves a bad taste in my mouth. "What's controversial about a man who died bringing down Voldemort? Hopefully once my book is finished, he won't be so controversial anymore."

"I hope you're right, Hermione. I really do." He pops a lemon biscuit into his mouth "Good luck."

"Thanks, Harry," I say as I leave his office. As I exit the Ministry and make plans to go to Hogwarts,

I am now more resolved than ever to get to the bottom of Professor Snape's story and get rid of the nagging suspicions that everyone still seems to harbour against the man. I have to finish this book, and that means I have to start finding answers.

I go back to my flat only long enough to warn Minerva of my imminent arrival. Thankfully, it only takes minutes for her to respond to my request for help. Of course, the Headmistress agrees just as she had promised. Carefully stowing the journal and a blank booklet of parchments in my knapsack, I grab a handful of Floo powder from the canister on my mantel and fling the tiny particles into the firebox.

"Headmistress McGonagall's office, Hogwarts."

The swirling green flames overtake me and I feel myself being hurdled across hundreds of miles to Hogwarts. When I emerge from the flames, Minerva is sitting behind her desk, reading the note I had just sent. She looks up, removing her glasses. It's clear by the expression of concern on her face that my hastily scrawled letter caught her off her guard.

"I apologise for such late notice," I manage as I dust myself off. The excess soot and Floo powder stings my tear ducts, but I look through watery eyes to the portrait hanging behind Minerva. Snape sits, just as before, with an eerily blank look on his face, staring through everything in front of him. It is unsettling, and I blink heavily to tear myself away from his intense gaze.

"It's quite alright," the Headmistress says, her eyes following my gaze to the Snape's portrait. "I take it you have made headway with our Potions master?"

"Not quite, but I'm close."

Minerva smiles and extends the invitation for me to sit in one of the plush chairs in front of her. "What can I do for you?"

"While looking for what I needed, I came across a rather unusual term: Resonare Mortis. I haven't a clue what it means, and I was hoping to gain access to the Restricted Section of the library."

Minerva studies me for a moment, as though deep in thought. I can tell she's working out the Latin just as I did when I first recognised it. "Resonare Mortis?"

I move to reach for the autopsy report in my bag, but stop. "Yes, it was mentioned in a document that I was able to obtain from Harry. Have you heard of it?"

"Only in theory," Minerva replies. "I don't know if you will find any answers in the Restricted Section; however, I may have something of relevance in the Headmaster's library."

The Headmistress stands and makes her way to a bookshelf near the back of her office. I watch, bewildered, as she peruses a shelf containing several aged tomes. After a few moments, she returns with a dust-covered book. I can tell it is very old given the cracked binding and brittle pages. I don't notice any identifying marks on the cover or a title on the spine. When Minerva hands it to me, I open it to find the words: Of Death and Dying.

I flip through the book, noticing all of the text has been handwritten. It suddenly registers that I am reading someone's old journal. "I've never heard of the title."

"Not many people have. It was penned by Bertrand de Pensèes-Profondes' lesser understudy, Soren Heidegger, sometime in the late eighteenth century. As you can see, it was never published."

"How did you get something like this?" I ask, enthralled by the authenticity of it all.

"Albus, naturally," Minerva answers. "Nicholas Flamel bequeathed it to him in his will. When Albus died, he donated all of his scholarly possessions to Hogwarts. I don't know if it will contain exactly what you need, but it is a start. Heidegger, in Albus's opinion, was far more realistic with the workings of death and the afterlife. He preferred him to Pensèes-Profondes, though that is neither here nor there in terms of relevance."

I finally feel as though I may be on the right track, though I can't help but think this has been far too easy. I'm sure that will change once I drive into the gold-leafed pages. "Do you mind if I borrow this?"

"Not at all," she says before adding, "Keep it as long as you need. That was what Albus intended it for, after all. He'd be pleased to know it's no longer catching dust."

"I really appreciate all of your help, Minerva."

"Anytime, though I'm not sure how much I've helped you. If you do find you need access to the Restricted Section, I'll inform Madam Pince you've been given permission," Minerva continues. "Come and go as you'd like."

I stand, carefully tucking the journal in a side pocket of my bag. "I think I'd like to go there now, if that is alright. I've always done my best reading in the library."

"Then it's settled." Minerva removes a crisp sheet of parchment from a stack on her desk and writes my letter of permission to Madam Pince. "That should do it," she says, signing and dating the note. "She shouldn't hassle you too badly."

The Headmistress hands me the slip of parchment before walking me to the door. "I trust you can find your own way? I would escort you personally, but I'm afraid I have a prior engagement with the Board of Governors. You will have to forgive my rudeness."

"There's nothing to forgive. I'm the one who should be apologizing for disrupting your afternoon," I say as I step through the door and out into the hall. "I'll be alright from here."

I walk down the crowded hallway leading to the library. Some of the students are vaguely familiar to me, as they would have been in their first year when I was finishing up at Hogwarts. Even those that are unfamiliar stare at me as I pass and whisper to each other. I try to ignore it, but can't help but find it annoying. It's time like these that I understand why Ron moved to Romania. The constant attention from everyone borders on being downright creepy.

Thankfully, the library isn't far from Minerva's office. I walk in and find Madam Pince, the Hogwarts Librarian, perched behind the checkout counter like a vulture, looking as irritable as ever. She eyes me with predictable suspension as I approach. She has always made me somewhat uncomfortable given the way she stares down her hooked nose at patrons.

"Madam Pince, good aftern—"

"Shhhh!"

My free hand goes to my mouth as the other produces the note from the Headmistress. Madam Pince snatches it from my grasp, holding it inches from her pallid face, as though examining it for deception. After a few moments, she frowns but concedes the authenticity. "Very well. Follow me."

I fall into step a few paces behind her as she leads me to the section of the library I need. "It appears, Miss Granger, as though the Headmistress has granted you privilege to my library," she hisses.

"Yes," I whisper sheepishly, noticing her bony fingers clench around the parchment. It's obvious the thought of anyone touching her precious books makes her even more short-tempered than usual.

"Then I must allow you access," Madam Pince says with a touch of bitterness, "but I must also issue you a warning. I remember you from your time as a student here. I remember that you and your friends frequently engaged in mischief making and rule breaking. I am sorry to inform you, that in order to keep access to these books, you must follow my rules to the letter. You may have no more than two books off the shelf at one time. When you are finished with a book, you will return it to its proper spot. You are not to bend, damage, or deface the books in any way. If you do, there will be very serious repercussions. Is that understood, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be on my best behaviour." It annoys me that she talks to me like I am a child, but I know being conciliatory is the fastest route to ending this lecture and getting my research underway.

"I'm glad we understand each other," Madam Pince says with a forced smile and returns to her desk.

I take the ancient journal to a table in the Restricted Section and sit down. I carefully turn the pages one by one, hoping to come across some mention of Resonare Mortis. I trudge through page after page of Heidegger's writing, through countless accounts of deaths that he observed or read about and theories he extrapolated from these observations. He spared no grisly detail, and some of the stories cause my stomach to turn. It is two hours, maybe three, before I stumble upon the two words I've been searching for. I take a second look to make sure I'm not hallucinating. Sure enough, there they are, staring up at me.

They appear in Heidegger's account of the death of an English witch that was stabbed to death by a Muggle man: Rumors abound; the woman's spirit lingers in the house where she was murdered – wailing in agony and begging for mercy. I plan to visit soon to see for myself if there are any signs of Resonare Mortis.

Beside the words, Heidegger had placed a footnote. I find the corresponding symbol at the bottom of the page. The footnote read The Magical Art of Dying, Fytherley Undercliffe, page 493. I spring to my feet and head directly for the card catalog at the front of the Restricted Section. I quickly rifle through the 'U's and find what I'm looking for in a matter of moments. On my way back to the shelf, my knees actually begin to wobble. This could be the breakthrough I'm looking for. I find the book easily. It is a thick book bound in green leather with gold lettering on the cover. I take it back to my seat and turn as quickly as I can without damaging its ancient pages to the spot indicated in Heidegger's journal. What I find is an encyclopedic entry printed in ornate calligraphy:

Phenomena: Resonare Mortis

Resonare Mortis is an extraordinary phenomenon in which an expired magical being is forced to relive their untimely death—usually brought about by violent means—ad infinitum or until the loop is disrupted by an outside force. Unlike a true spectre or disembodied soul, an essence can be compelled into Resonare Mortis without fear of death or an unwavering, deep-seated connection to the location wherein the death occurred. The circumstances surrounding Resonare Mortis are widely considered as lore given the rarity. Conversely, recent discoveries by Wizarding philosopher, Potioneer, and author, Vindictus Viridian, propose that Resonare Mortis is, in actual fact, possible and is most generally a by-product of murder. Viridian postulates that it is not sudden death that will cause a spirit to become trapped, but rather delayed, agonizing passage through the Veil.

Characteristics:

Unlike ghosts which are translucent, spirits trapped in Resonare Mortis appear in visible form or corporal manifestation to the living. Descriptions of the manifestations vary widely. Forms can range from an invisible presence to life-like visions of the magical being they represent. The amount of time an essence is bound in Resonare Mortis can influence an observer's perception as well as the perception of the soul itself. For instance, a soul trapped for mere days will most likely behave in a confused manner whereas a soul trapped for years on end will start to believe themselves alive, taking on nearly all of the traits of the magical being they represent. It is this residual growth of self-awareness that makes Resonare Mortis highly dangerous. The longer Resonare Mortis is left unhindered, the stronger the influence will become—on both the soul in question and any outward observer.

Termination:

While exorcizing a soul under the effects of Resonare Mortis is not impossible, it is considered highly complex as simple extensions of exorcism will not put the spirit to rest. Cases documented by Viridian imply the soul may only be persuaded to pass through the Veil if they are made aware of the fact they are deceased, which becomes increasingly difficult the longer a soul remains bound in Resonare Mortis. Termination of Resonare Mortis may only occur when the spirit has reached the end of the cycle, but never before a new phase has started, which substantially decreases the window of successfulness. Furthermore, it is recommended by Viridian that proactive action be taken immediately if Resonare Mortis is suspected. Failure to promptly release the soul from its bonds will result in endless suffering and eventually the disintegration of the essence entirely.

I don't know how long I stare at the page trying to understand everything I've just read, but it was long enough that the sun has gone down and the library has emptied. The library is completely silent except for the sound of footsteps getting closer to me. Still, I can't take my eyes off the words in front of me. Suddenly, the words vanish and a loud thud jolts me from my trance. I look up to see Madam Pince standing across the table from me, the book I had been previously reading floating in the air beside her grey head.

"Your time is at its end, Miss Granger," she says with an air of smug satisfaction. "The library is closing."

Author's Notes: While I hope you enjoy this story (and I believe you will), I should warn you that it is not for the faint of heart. This story is rated mature for a reason, as there are strong images of death throughout. That being said, it is not my intention to frighten anyone away, but to merely make you aware of the world you are about to step into. Also, a very special thank you to Meladara for her keen eye. And to Anoesis who worked very quickly to Britpick this tale. As always, reviews are welcomed and greatly appreciated! Happy reading to all!