Chapter 1 – Margaret I
Margaret Potter held Hermione Granger's trembling hand against hers. In front of them, the door of pure wood was being engraved with runes the color of ink black and blood red. The two witches kept chanting the spell, drawing the runes with their bloody hands. Ley lines and ancient runes, neither taught at Hogwarts on any other school, used toward the house. It was old magic, the darkest of magic, found in the books at number 12 Grimmauld Place. Maggie had made copies of the books Dumbledore had destroyed, not caring that they were "too dangerous".
Knowledge was knowledge and only ignorants burned books.
I hope we are doing this right.
They had contrasted that knowledge from the books Viktor had gotten for Hermione. Even the Nott's library and Luna's ideas had contributed. They had formed their own DA, but smaller, where they studied magic in its purest form.
Something had to be happening, seeing as Margaret felt the sacrificed blood tainting something inside her. She looked at Hermione, whose brown eyes shone with tears. At that moment, Margaret knew her friend was feeling the effect as well.
As soon as it ended, they fell onto the ground.
The two girls held onto each other as they broke apart. The room seemed to have darkened, the silence haunting as if judging them from their spellwork.
The silence also proved they did it right. Had it been any other occasion, the two scholars would be delighted over the discovery. Margaret imagined her and Hermione announcing to their little study group the favored outcome. Imagined them going over books and discussing magic theories, arguing back and forward, like the bookworms they were.
Happier times.
The painful whimpering sound made them turn. Both girls draw their wands with a speed that only battle warned wizards possessed.
Hermione's was 12¾" walnut with a dragon heartstring core, stolen from the hands of the witch who had tortured her. It was evidence of her endurance and strength of will.
Margaret's wand sang the sweet lullaby of unlimited power, in all its 15 inches of elder wood with Thestral tail-hair core.
Hermione shouted. "Professor"
The brushed haired girl ran towards the body on the ground. Maggie's body, however, was frozen. Her eyes transfixed on the man in black robes, dying on the floor. Her mind blanked.
"Margaret!" Hermione called her, her eyes begging for help.
Her friend didn't hesitate and was pouring down vial after healing vial of healing potions, trying to get the bleeding man to stabilize. Hermione was trying to save Snape's life. Maggie's mind couldn't form any other thought other than that.
Move, your idiot! You've seen worse in your life. Hell, you've seen anything other than horrors in that last hours! Move! Her mind screamed at her body that by some miracle obeyed. Kneeling over the dying man, Margaret got her burgundy beaded pouch from around her neck and put her hand inside. The potions were soon in her hands.
"Miss Potter," the voice said between shaking breaks. "There's no used."
She gave him a look that hopefully showed her desire to have him shut his mouth and let her work. Margaret had been a Ravenclaw for a reason, she loved books as much as Hermione, and while she didn't have the brilliance of her friend, she was above average in terms of intellect.
"A Potter capable of opening a book" Snape had scoffed in her very potions class when she passed his tests. Later, she would learn that her brother had failed miserably.
"The only Potter with half a brain". The potion professor was found of saying.
It was time to prove to him why people said she and Hermione were the reason why their friends had lived this long. I failed them. I can't fail him too. I am supposed to be the supporting character in this story. What use do I have if I can't do my role correctly? From the bag, she got the small vile with the greenish potion that shone with a strange moving red. She found her mouth forming words without stopping.
"I brewed it on the day moon aligned with mars and did the Arithmancy calculations myself. Well worth the Outstanding I receive in Potions if I may say so myself. I found these notes – magically – in my notebook one day. The handwriting was very similar to the notes on my brother's potion books. Expensive for sure, but the Potter's and Black vaults don't lack gold."
Margaret poured the anti-venom down the man's throat, ignoring his painful shouts. She kept speaking of the properties of the venom to Hermione in hopes of filling the silence with something. Perhaps distract them with something the three enjoyed. Professor Snape kept trashing, and Margaret could see he was trying not to shout. Even now, the man held onto his iron control.
"We keep him still and raise his body heat. We can't risk him catching hypothermia," Hermione said in a medical tone.
Her hand brushed the Professor's hair with a gentleness that contrasted with everything around them. His dark eyes were wide open. His mind was lucid to what was happening. Margaret didn't know if that was better. At least his eyes had lost the scorn and hatred expression.
"The ingredients are incredibly volatile. We can't use magic. I don't know how it would react against the potion. Help me hold him down, Mia."
Using their own bodies, both women held the professor down to the wooden floor. Neither commented on the fact they were both trying to save the professor that so much despised them, using a very precious and unique potion in doing so. The lines between light and dark had been merging since the moment they went on the run. Both of them had used Dark Curses and even the Unforgivable. They had committed many actions that would be considered Dark or criminal in the last year. Hermione had used the Killing Curse on Bellatrix. Margaret had Imperious Death Eaters while on the run and Draco Malfoy hours ago. They both used the cruciatus during battle.
The silence was only interrupted by the occasional groans of the man.
As time went on, her mind flashed to the events that got them there.
Margaret remembered Voldemort's laughter as her brother died. Malfoy and Nott's surprise attack when Voldemort's fell. Draco Malfoy's cutting smirk as the battle turned decisively in his favor. How Theo's last stand against his father allowed the two of them to escape. The scream Hermione have when Ron's body hit the ground.
Harry's last words before he faced his death.
She remembered messy-haired a boy and a girl, jet-black against flaming red, how they held each other and tried to fall asleep inside a cupboard. She remembered the girl reading with a low tone or singing some lullaby, the boy looking at her with a small smile.
A soft voice started to sing Hey Jude, and it almost at the end when she realized she was the one singing it. She was about to stop when she felt Hermione's hand holding her own. She tilted her face, deep green meet bright brown, and Margaret kept on singing.
.
.
.
It had taken hours to calm the man down and move him to the bedroom on the second floor. They had tried to make it as comfortable as possible. They cleaned the bedroom with magic and put fresh blankets on the bed. Hermione performed healing spells on the man. Margaret changed his clothing, trying to respect his privacy as best as she could. She was please Mia was inside the bedroom when she did so, or they would break overseeing the professor's body.
Afterward, they moved to another room, but not before leaving two candles lighting the bedroom and the door semi-open.
Margaret finally looked at Hermione. Her hair was dirty. Her face was a mix of sweat, dirt, and blood. Her clothes were ripped, blood was drying in her collarbone. Her hands were bloodied.
Hermione did the same to her. Margaret could only imagine what she must look like.
"You go wash. I'll prepare for the other room for us to sleep. Or try to." Hermione said with tears in her eyes.
Margaret didn't know what to tell her to make it better.
She was about to leave to the bathroom when she felt Hermione's arms around hers. Firm and full of love. Hermione's hugs, Harry had called. Margaret felt tears blinded her.
Margaret returned the gesture.
I love you too.
.
.
.
The early morning light shone in the sky, but as she looked outside, only empty fields surrounded them. She knew the spell had worked when she could not see Hogsmeade on sight. Her eyes watched as her fingers - washed, clean fingers - made little invisible drawings on the cold window.
The forces of Malfoy and Nott had turned to the village as soon as Voldemort fell. The massacre would haunt her forever. They had barely cast a spell, but the army pillaged, raped, killed their way into victory. Margaret did not have the strength to make a mental count of the dead.
She felt Hermione's hands on her hair, gently braiding it, and without turning, Margaret knew she too was looking out the window.
"Do you think Headmaster Dumbledore knew that the Shrieking Shack is located amidst ley lines?"
"Knowing him, I am sure. An abandoned house in such a magical inclined place? It is too much of a coincidence. Either way, I'm glad it worked."
"Me too." Hermione's voice was softer.
Hermione's moral code was always stronger than hers.
She felt Hermione's hand had atop hers. Looking down, Margaret noticed the scars, three diagonal cuts along her right palm. Unclenching her fist, Margaret stared at her own scars. Hermione returned to her work.
Unable to take in the silence for too long, she asked, "How is the professor?"
"Healing. He won't awake for days. Possibly weeks."
"We have a month and nineteen days until the Solstice. We can't do the spell before then."
"How does it even work?"
How can you believe such a thing was what Hermione wanted to ask, but wouldn't.
"Harry died before our eyes. Then he came back. I saw my parents, Mia. We saw them! How can I not believe what Harry told me? I need to believe it."
"I am tired of fighting, Mia. I don't want to see more war. I want to be selfish. Let's be selfish."
"We'll be dead before we can even form a rebellion. Might as well try the spell and leave this place."
Hermione sounded almost as if she believed in it. Margaret wondered if that made her suicidal. They were both very willing to do this, so maybe they were both a little too willing to do something that would result in their death, and a leap of faith neither of them naturally had.
"We have the cloak. We can hide in the Muggle World."
"Turn," Mia said, and they switched places.
Using a soft brush, Margaret combed Hermione's wet hair, trying to work her curls into something more malleable. The action was familiar, something they had started to do while on the run, as they shared watch time. It was soothing and methodical.
"There were three brothers. Three objects-"
"We need three people," Hermione finished. They looked at the stairs. "He won't agree."
"We saved his life. A life he spent protecting us. He'll agree to it."
"We still need things. Our stocks are low. I have the map."
Margaret hummed in agreement. "We'll take turns on going to Hogwarts or Hogsmeade. There are things we can take from Muggle World... I miss wearing dresses."
"You can get any dress you want." Mia smiled a bit before her expression turned serious. "You need to offer some of your blood before leaving and entering."
"I know. But first, we should heal and rest. Things will calm down outside." Hopefully. "And then you can make a list of what we need to take with us."
"We need an inventory of everything we need," Mia said with that bossy voice she still could not shake after all these years.
It made Margaret smile and kiss her braided hair. "Let's go to bed. The colored schemed lists can wait."
Hermione held her hand. "I promise not to forget your chocolate."
"You better."
.
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On Day 26, the professor awoke fully recovered.
Hermione was outside looking for supplies while Margaret was worked on lunch for herself. The old record player played Pink Floyd in the background. There were rarely used on British soil, but Fleur said that they were common in Wizard France. It worked similarly to wireless but allowed them to play muggle gramophone records to her utter delight.
Her love for muggle music was well known. She rarely did anything without some background noise. In her years at Hogwarts, Muggle music was common in the Ravenclaw tower. Arguments about music were typical Ravenclaw activities and could get very heated. Everyone knew 'Claws debated constantly. What most students didn't know was it was rarely about homework.
Margaret had loved living in that tower. While Ravenclaw didn't have the hierarchy that Slytherin seemed to be ruled by, Maggie knew how schools worked, and she refused to be at the bottom of the pyramid again.
Unlike Harry and his Golden Trio that kept mostly to themselves, Margaret had seen in the magic world as a fresh start. She was no longer a poor girl who hid her intelligence because of her family. She was a Potter, and that came with a trust found she could not possibly spend it in a lifetime, and recognition.
When she saw that pile of gold at eleven, she promised herself that she would gain power and respect. She would never be the girl sleeping in a cupboard again. She had failed repeatedly in leaving Dudley's house but by no fault of hers.
There was a reason that her sorting had been hatstall, at six minutes and forty seconds, the longest since Headmaster Dumbledore. Unlike Harry, there was little Gryffindor in here, but a lot of eagle and snake. She had many traits in common with the Slytherin. Unlike Harry, she was not blinded by the hatred for one house, no matter how annoying Draco Malfoy was.
However, Margaret was a lover of history. In the mind of an eleven-year-old, she refused to be part of a group that sounded too much like Hitler's Youth. Most importantly, their ideas about girls sounded like they came from the Dark Ages.
"The Dark Side of the Moon?" A deep voice spoke.
She turned around wand in hand and shield up.
"Don't sneak up on me." She warned him, and he nodded in understanding. "As for music, I found that muggles do it much better than wizards."
"I agree."
They stood in silence for some time. The Professor was garbed in black wool trousers and a dress shirt, the clothes that they had changed him into. The red-haired wanted to dress Snape in one of Harry's quidditch hood, but Hermione forbade her. Professor Snape put on his cloak as well.
Despite barely escaping death, he still had his intimidating and commanding presence.
His complexion was still too pale to be natural, and his body was leaning heavily against the door. How he managed to descend the stairs was beyond her comprehension. Severus Snape wasn't taken down with ease. He proved it time and time again.
"Please sit, professor. I prepared some salad. We can share." She began to set the table for them, ignoring the fact he had yet to move.
Margaret fidgeted with her dress. It was an emerald green shirt dress that she had brought in a vintage clothes store. It made her feel pretty. Now, she wondered what pictured she painted for her professor, in a pretty dress and Mary Jane kitten heels. To him, they were in a warzone, and she was dressed like a fanciful girl.
"I am no longer a Professor." He said as he took the chair. She took notice of his careful movements.
Margaret knew better than to offer her help.
"You are no Headmaster either. Amycus Carrow has taken the post until they can appoint a higher ranking Death Eater." She couldn't keep her spite when saying the name.
They sat in silence while eating, and she had been very grateful for the music, or she would start to demands answers. She was already washing the plates when the professor broke the silence.
"You left a little book on the bedside table."
"Did you like it?"
"Fanciful tales for children. What do you think?"
"There is much more than fancifulness in it. There is truth in most of it. I know it."
"You were always imprudently open-minded but I never took you for a Lovegood."
"Don't ever say that!" She snapped at him, throwing the cup in the sink, breaking it. She felt a fury inside her as she turned to the man. "Say what you will about me, or my father and his friends, but don't you dare say a word about Luna. Or Neville or any other child whose blood is wetting the Hogwarts ground right now."
Severus Snape looked down, and his face showed something she could never have imagined- shame. "You are right. I do not know that happened."
"We lost." She said flatly as if that was not obvious. "Harry did his duty like Dumbledore's little child-soldier and gave his life when he took that snake-faced man down with him. What the headmaster failed to see is that killing Riddler would not stop the fight. Lucius Malfoy and Nott Sr took control and were ten times more effective than Tom. I expect they were already planning it well before Tom returned."
"Nott was always a threat. Cold and calculating. A Slytherin in every account, and a true blood purist." Unlike most, she knew the character of the man very well, so she just nodded. "His son? Theodore?" he asked not ungentle. It was enough for Margaret's mind to break where she had effectively been pushing down some part of the battle.
It was an unspoken rule that Margaret would not bring up Ron and Hermione would not utter Theo's name. It had worked until now. Suddenly all she could see was a boy with black hair wet with blood, a haunting serenity, and knowing eyes. The utter confidence derived from understanding and accepting of one's last decision.
It was the second time that day she watched a part of her heart embrace Death like a martyr at a scaffold.
"Theo. My Theo." She bit her fisted hand, but her eyes were already burning, her sobs rising to wailings of utter heartbreak. Even her body gave up.
"Oh, Margaret." She didn't even realize it was the first time the man had called her by name. Her pain was too large to even account for the arms and chest holding her up, somehow keeping her grounded to the earth.
.
.
Hermione started to wear Ron's jersey and clothes. She wore the Weasley name stamped in her back, as she did the grief in her face. Margaret burned her Ravenclaw robes and began wearing summer dressed in the muggle fashion. Profes- Severus – as he had insisted they call him – wore his formal clothes.
A week after he woke up, and under a large number of potions and muggle alternative medicine, he was able to visit his home by himself.
They gave him a small leather pouch and the invisible cloak, which surprised him. Margaret told him that if they could not trust him, they would have let him die. If he was troubled by his two formal students' words, he hid it from them.
"I was able to empty the house of anything we might need," Severus informed them during dinner.
"They did not raid it?" Hermione asked. They had stopped calling them Death Eaters or any name but monsters.
Severus had to tranquilize both of them when Hermione came back with the Daily Prophet. Minister Nott had ordered the death of every muggle-born and half-blood with a muggle or muggle-born parent that was currently under arrested. The Muggle-Born Registration Commission had sentenced to Azkaban for "stealing magic" every single muggle-born beforehand. Those who supported the Order or fought against Tom's side were branded as "traitors of the nation" and sentenced to death.
It was a bloodbath.
Hermione's grief was loud and ferocious. She might have gone out in revenge spread afterward. It was stupid, but no one condemned her for it.
Snape barely slept and seemed to have devoted his time to make sure they didn't kill themselves. He also worked most on the spellwork they needed, which was good. Despite being the best students in their year, they were young. Snape was brilliant and had many more years of experience.
"The wards were untouched since they are linked to my magic. I brought history books. Since we have no idea what the alternative world you speak of is like."
"The wards were untouched since they are blinked with my magic. I brought history books since we have no idea of this alternative world you speak of is like."
"When I first got my Hogwarts' letter," Margaret spoke with a raspy tone. She had not used her voice in days. "I imagined this world to be like the Lord of the Rings. I still believed for quite some time. Perhaps, we'll end up in Middle Earth." She said fancifully. "Or perhaps we'll end up in a world without magic. If so, I plan to reenroll myself in college and have a quiet life in a seaside town."
Hermione gave her hand a squeeze and a small smile. They had shared a deep love for Tolkien. It was one of the first things that made them friends. Each of them had their copy on the bags. It was another way to pass the time. "I like that. I vote for Rivendell or Gondolin if it still exists. If not. I wouldn't mind being a nurse, maybe a teacher."
They turned to their formal professor who was frowning at them but without any malice on his face. He actually looked pensive. "At this point, I would take the Shire or Dale."
"I cannot see you in the Shire," Margaret said with mirth. "Merry and loud hobbits? You would scare them away."
He nodded and turned pensive. "Númenor."
Margaret smiled, picturing Professor Snape reading Tolkien, which he clearly must-have. "A good choice, but you forget the greatness of Doriath and the Hithlum."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Your obsession with the Sons of Feanor and Fingon is showing."
"Don't listen to her, Severus. Mia likes boring elves."
Severus scoffed but she could see the curling of his lips, and suddenly they spent the rest of the evening arguing about Middle Earth. That night, Margaret dreamt of waterfalls, green grass fields, and white cities.