Chapter 3: Through the Looking Glass

Hermione awoke early the next morning after her conversation with Dumbledore with a terrible headache and a growing sense of unease concerning her predicament. There were so many confusing thoughts crowding her mind that she couldn't even begin to predict how the Latere potion had worked. However it had saved her, she now found herself, while out of danger, certainly still in a precarious position.

She didn't get any more time to analyze the situation as she found herself being hustled out of bed by the still belligerent Madam Pomfrey. The nurse declared her well enough to go see the Headmaster and Hermione didn't argue. As far as she was concerned, any excuse to get away from the dour matron was a good one.

Hermione soon found herself navigating the familiar, and yet decidedly unfamiliar, passages of the school. The differences between what she now saw and how she had last seen the halls were subtle. The halls were less tatty, cleaner as well. Her Hogwarts had been suffering from neglect. Many of the school's house elves had been killed in an assault on Hogwarts a few years earlier. The remaining elves had concentrated their duties on areas of the school that were more regularly used. As a result, there were many areas, such as the more remote hallways, that had become rather ragged.

The halls Hermione now found herself in were, while comfortably worn, very clean- obviously not neglected. It was just another observation to add to her growing list of differences. Hermione was now fairly sure that she had somehow been transported into what could only be termed an alternate reality. She, of course, had studied the theories behind alternate and parallel realities but had always found them to be somewhat far fetched. She found it hard to believe that there could be an infinite number of realities similar to her own. By that theory, it didn't matter how she lived her life, she was ultimately fated to live one path or another. If there was one thing that Hermione simply didn't want to accept it was that her life was dictated by some outside influence. She had to believe that she had some semblance of control- free will as it were.

However, with the facts before her, Hermione's opinion of those theories were starting to change. So far, that she had stumbled into an alternate world was the only explanation she could produce concerning her whereabouts. She certainly couldn't come up with any other way to account for Dumbledore and Pomfrey's presence.

Sighing, she lifted her chin and kept walking. She had always felt safe within its walls and had many happy memories of being there. In fact, it was the place that Severus had proposed to her, right after a major fight over her role in the war. She felt herself sober with the thought of her lost husband. Even if the eyes she had looked into the night she had been transported her had been Severus', it didn't change the fact that the man she had spent the last six years married to was dead. This Severus would never have even had the chance to fall in love with Hermione.

Hermione closed her eyes against the tears that again threatened to fall. She was sick and tired of crying. She had shed more tears in the last few days than she had in the last decade. She knew, logically, that she had every right to cry and generally feel sorry for herself, but anyone who knew Hermione Snape knew that she wasn't a woman who let her emotions get the best of her. Resolutely, she straightened her spine and resolved to stop snivelling like a first year Hufflepuff.

Scowling at the statue guarding the office, she realized that she didn't have the password. She could try to guess, assuming this Dumbledore was as fond of sweets as hers had been, but she didn't really feel up to it. Instead she tapped the statue and told it to inform the Headmaster that she was there. Most people didn't know that the statue actually served as Dumbledore's receptionist. As the stairs began to rotate, she smirked, a disturbing copy of one of her husband's most well known faces. Climbing on board she soon found herself in Dumbledore's office.

Hermione looked around, concurrently cataloguing both the similarities and the differences between what she knew the Headmaster's office to look like and what this one contained. The same scattered objects, some whirling brilliantly, others merely collecting dust, were in this office. Pictures of past Headmasters and mistresses were also the same. Clearly missing were the various maps and notes about the Dark Lord that had littered his office for the last couple of years. It was a clear indicator that, in this world, the Dark Lord was no longer a threat.

"Hello, my dear. How are you feeling this morning?" Dumbledore's eyes were sparkling and Hermione couldn't help but feel her spirits lift a little.

"Better. Thank you, Headmaster."

As he gestured for her to take a seat before his desk, he said, "Please, just call me Albus." She smiled and nodded, relieved that she didn't have to fall back on formalities that she had long ago dispensed with. As he stood to pour her a cup of tea he said, "Well, I had hoped that you would be able to enlighten me a little concerning your appearance here. Perhaps you could tell me what you think has happened."

Hermione took the cup and saucer from him as she gathered her thoughts. With hesitation, Hermione began. "I guess I should start at the beginning, or as far back as would be relevant. You had mentioned earlier that Hermione Granger had died seven years ago, correct?" Albus nodded. "Was that when the Dark Lord was defeated?"

Albus clasped his hands before him as he leaned back in his chair. "Yes. It was the day before graduation. Voldemort and the majority of his Death Eaters struck at the school with all their resources. They were aided by several students sympathetic to their cause. We were ready for the attack, however. I cannot tell you how lucky we were to have lost so few. I believe I told you that you were instrumental in designing the curse that killed Voldemort?" At her blank look her, he continued, "Ah, I see that I did not. You had been working for several months with Harry and young Mr. Weasley concerning a way to defeat Voldemort. A few days before Voldemort attacked, you had in fact succeeded in discovering a curse that would sever his soul from this world. Although we tried to discourage you, during the battle you fought along side Harry and Ron. You were killed when you stepped in front of a Killing Curse meant for Harry. You gave him the time needed to use your curse and kill Voldemort."

Hermione was shocked. She did remember having found such a curse while still in school, but they had never gotten a chance to use it. She could remember the attack on her school that Albus spoke of, but in her world they had had no warning. Over half the students and staff had been killed when the Dark Lord had attacked the day before her graduation, Ron Weasley among one of the first. Gravely wounded, she and Harry had been spirited away to 12 Grimmauld Place by the Order as the Death Eaters decimated the school. It was only pure luck that the Aurors had arrived in time to secure the school at all.

"I wonder if the attack you speak of wasn't the point in which our realities split." At Dumbledore's confused look, Hermione tried to explain. "The only theory that I have been able to come up with concerning my appearance here is that this is some kind of alternate reality to my own. Are you familiar with the theories concerning alternate dimensions?"

"Vaguely," he stated. "I believe I recall something about time lines being split due to certain circumstances."

Hermione nodded, launching into lecture mode. "It's one of the reasons Time-turners are so highly regulated. Whenever you change the past you create an alternate dimension according to theory. It's also hypothesised that major events or even major personal decisions can affect such a split." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "In your reality, you defeated the Dark Lord at the end of my seventh year. In mine, we were taken by surprise. Half the students and staff were slaughtered. As it was, Harry and I and a few others managed to escape, but the Dark Lord had already managed to cripple us. We've been struggling ever since, growing weaker every year as he chips away our defences. There were only thirteen of us left to defend Hogwarts when he attacked us the other morning. As far as I know I'm the only one that survived and only then by dint of using a potion that was meant to save Harry. By Hecate, if we only would have known that the Dark Lord was going to attack Hogwarts seven years ago we would be like you are now." Hermione was shocked by the realization that all she had suffered could have been prevented. She remembered that it had been Ron who had stepped in front of the Killing Curse meant for Harry. If she had been the one to do it maybe…

Hermione shook herself from her reflection as Dumbledore spoke. "Yes, I think I agree with your assessment. It's at the very least a theory we cannot discount." She raised her eyes to his, the seriousness in them riveting her. He pinned her with a piercing look as his eyes scanned hers. After a few moments he said, "Hermione, you cannot blame yourself for what happened in your world. No doubt it was something over which you had no control. Perhaps it is a testament to the capricious nature of fate that, in our world, you were one of the few casualties of the Final Battle, and that in yours, you were one of the few to survive." Dumbledore paused, his eyes distant. "Perhaps," he continued, "this is fate's way of setting things right."

Hermione sighed, guilt welling up inside her chest. His words had hit deeper than she could admit. "And why would fate feel it necessary to grant me such a bane? I hardly think cowardice warrants reward."

Dumbledore seemed startled by her words. "And why do you think yourself a coward?" he asked carefully.

Her eyes hardened as she looked into his no-longer twinkling eyes. "I fled! Left them there to die to save my own life. Now I wonder if I could have changed things years ago if I had just died then!" Hermione was screaming now, the fear and pain welling up inside her chest. Gasping, she tried to push down the feelings that had been threatening to overwhelm her again. When her breathing quieted she added in a small voice, "I failed them."

Dumbledore arose from his desk and made his way around to the chair next to Hermione's. He sat and the years seemed to weigh heavily on him as he regarded her. "Understand, Hermione, that what you did was neither cowardly nor wrong." She raised her red-rimmed eyes to his as he spoke. Holding her gaze with his own he continued. "From what you have told me you did all that you could, perhaps even more than was your burden. For that reason alone you should feel no shame." He held up a hand to quell her as she started to speak. "Had you stayed on that battlefield you would have died and it would have been little more than suicide. That you chose to live, to carry the memories of those who died with you, shows true courage." Taking her hand in his he looked into her eyes, trying to convey the truth behind his words. "To die a noble death is an easy road. Heroes and martyrs are always idolized for their roles in war. But for a hero to be recognized someone must survive to tell the tale. Do you know the courage it takes to be the one to do that, Hermione?"

Hermione felt a small sense of release at the Headmaster's words. She wasn't sure that she completely agreed with his assessment of her actions, but she found herself clinging to his words. Yes, someone did indeed have to survive for a hero's sacrifice to be worthwhile. She had fled the battle with the intention of warning others of their defeat. That she had been transported to this world was out of her control. It was hard to accept that they had actually lost the war. All their years of struggle, and they had still failed to defeat the Dark Lord.

To find that she had now been given a second chance, when everyone else who had fought just as hard as she had died, was a little much to digest. Could she go on living with the guilt of her survival? More to the point, did she really have a choice? Ultimately, she knew that she couldn't waste the chance she had been given. It would only lessen the sacrifice that her loved ones had made.

With a shaky smile, Hermione squeezed the Headmaster's hand. "You always did know what to say to snap me out of my maudlin fits. While it's still hard to accept, I understand what you are saying. I will try to live with what happened the best I can."

Smiling now, Dumbledore gave her hand a reassuring pat as he again rose. Taking his place behind his desk he said, "Yes. About that. You needn't worry about any mundane details for now. You will, of course, be given quarters in the castle. There are no doubt many people who would be interested to know that you are apparently alive and well, though I fear we will have a hard time explaining exactly how that came to be."

Hermione grimaced. "No doubt, as I have no idea how it happened myself."

"You had mentioned using a potion, correct?" At her nod he continued, "Then perhaps Professor Snape could be of some assistance to you."

Hermione looked at Dumbledore sharply, her eyes intense. "I don't think that's a good idea, Albus."

Dumbledore had the good grace to look sheepish. "I'm sorry, my dear. I wasn't even thinking. I understand it might be difficult for you to be around him now." After a pause he cautiously added, "In that same vein, perhaps it would be better if you didn't mention having been married to Severus."

Hermione felt a wave of despair wash over her. It was like losing her husband all over again. Now she wouldn't even have the comfort of being Mrs. Snape. She would have to be Hermione Granger, someone she hadn't been for a very long time. Looking down at the platinum band on her finger, she felt more alone than she ever had. She knew that she couldn't tell anyone of her marriage. Especially not Sev- Snape. With another start she also realized that she could no longer even call him Severus. This man was Professor Snape, a man who had never known her as anything other than a student.

A determined look crossed her face. It was a look she often got when struggling with something that didn't set well with her. Finally, with only a brief moment of hesitation, Hermione slipped the band from her finger. She winced at the tan line on her skin; she had never removed this ring after Severus had placed it on her finger. But he was gone now and she had to move on with her life.

She stood as she slipped the ring into the pocket of her robe. "I would like to retire if that's possible, Albus." The Headmaster looked at her gravely, the magnitude of her last action weighing heavily on him. He nodded sharply as he, too, stood.

"I have had the house elves prepare a room for you near Gryffindor tower. I assumed that would be acceptable." Hermione nodded. Although she had spent the last few years in Hogwarts' dungeon and felt most at home there, she grudgingly admitted that moving away from there would be the best way to separate herself from her old life.

"Well then," the wizard continued. "Let me show you to them so you can settle in. We'll need to deal with getting you clothes and other supplies tomorrow." Hermione realized with shock that she had no money or belongings to speak of here.

"How will I support myself, Albus? I don't have anything here. In fact, I can hardly believe that it will be easy to prove to the Ministry that I am who I say I am."

Albus nodded gravely. "Luckily Arthur should be most willing to assist us in that department. As for money, that will not be a problem." She looked at him quizzically. Dumbledore merely smiled. "There was a fund put together after the war to assist with the restoration efforts. Although the war is long over and we have rebuilt successfully the funds are still quite impressive. We will simply draw from that."

Hermione glared at the Headmaster, reminding him of Severus. "With all due respect, I will not accept charity."

"Indeed. I suspected that you would not. It's not strictly charity though. When you- Miss Granger rather- died she had no family left. The funds in her Gringott's account were simply added to the restoration fund. We all thought it would be something of which she would have approved. So, in reality, we will simply be returning to you what is yours already."

Hermione was still indignant with the prospect but realized that she really had no choice. She would accept the money but return as much as she could to the fund when she could support herself. She was sure that as a Potions Mistress she would have no trouble finding employ. Of course, there was the small matter that technically Hermione Granger was dead; this fact would make it difficult to prove her credentials. Then again, perhaps a job would become available at Hogwarts. She had been teaching potions at the school for the last few years after Severus had been offered the DADA position. It wouldn't be nearly as difficult to prove her abilities to Dumbledore as it would be to a complete stranger. Regardless, it was rapidly becoming clear that she was going to need all the help she could get to start her new life.

A/N: Thanks to my wonderful beta sophierom. More to come soon!!