Hermione strode out of the large fireplace in a roar of green fire, papers protruding from all angles out of her side bag. She was frazzled, walking fast, but eyes not paying attention to the people rushing around her. The words of her friends were ringing in her ears, though she tried to ignore them.
Take a break, Hermione.
You're going to work yourself to death!
You basically live at the ministry these days.
She knew they were right, but her job had her captivated, unlike any challenge she'd ever faced. Hermione had gone back to Hogwarts after the war, finished her education, unlike Ron and Harry, who went straight to work as Aurors. By the time she'd graduated, Kingsley was Minister for Magic, and he helped her become an Unspeakable for the Department of Mysteries.
It was exhilarating, despite having Lucius Malfoy as a boss. Ron had pitched a fit when he found out; he thought the idea of her having to report to that long-haired git was outrageous and should be illegal. But Hermione didn't mind him all that much; to be honest, he let her conduct her research independently and in relative peace. She'd been rotating between other Unspeakables and their research, trying to get a feel for her next project. Today she finally awoke with a spark of inspiration, hence her hurried pace through the Ministry entry hall.
Since fifth year she'd never forgotten about that veil buried deep within the ministry, the one that Sirius Black disappeared into. It was as if the memory was seared into her brain, branded by the emotions of that terrible night. Her feelings for Sirius were confusing, she was 16, and she saw him die. He was the first person she saw die; she didn't count Cedric because she only saw his body after the fact. It felt as if every night that lifeless grey veil fluttered before her vision, though she couldn't remember seeing it on the night. After all of the deaths she witnessed during the war, the veil appeared one night in her dreams and never left.
Something about it called to her, and Hermione was determined to investigate it; she knew the room wasn't being used for anything. People were too scared of it, and the older Unspeakables were bored by it, so no one would care to bother her there.
She was hungover from a girl's night out with Ginny, Angelina, and Luna, but her coffee was charmed to stay just hot enough, and maybe that would be enough to stave off the hangover she'd inevitably crash into later today.
"Miss Granger." The aristocratic drawl echoed off the Department of Mysteries' black tile walls, and she knew who it was in an instant.
"Malfoy," She tried not to grumble, but the growing headache didn't help her typically sour morning mood. He raised his eyebrow while she greedily and inelegantly slurped down her coffee.
"You look particularly frazzled," His eyebrow stayed arched while he cast another appraising look at her, "Need I be concerned?"
"Not at all," She was unable to hide her excitement now, "I think I may have finally decided on the topic of my research."
"Ah, how intriguing."
"The archway-"She barely got the words out before she was cut off by his harsh chuckle.
"Many new Unspeakables have wasted their first few months on that arch; nothing has ever come from it before."
"Well," She could feel her back straighten at his inadvertent challenge, "I think I may be able to produce some results. I just need to do some general research first to determine the validity of it all."
"I look forward to seeing what you produce Granger." With that, he strode off, leaving Hermione unsure of whether he was rooting for her or against her.
She didn't stay to think on it long; she quickly resumed her path to the arch room with renewed vigor. Hermione Granger didn't like being told she couldn't do something, and while a small part of her was worried about potentially failing miserably, most of her was ready to prove everyone wrong.
Sixteen hours later, she questioned her sanity but was still unable to break away from her mock lab in the arch room. The platform the arch was situated on was rocky and uneven, but she'd managed to balance an old table as best she could beside the eerie fixture. Her notes and books were haphazardly stacked upon the wooden surface, a confusing mess of information she'd been collecting and organizing all day and night.
Hermione was referencing past Unspeakables work regarding the archway, and there was a lot to sift through. Some were easy to eliminate as complete rubbish; Unspeakable Pench thought the arch was a portal to another realm; he disappeared into it in 1876 and was never seen again. Unspeakable Halloway tripped off the large stone platform and broke her neck while trying to prove that repeated attacks on the archway would produce a weakness; no one has attempted to continue her experiment independently. Hermione's favorite had to be Unspeakable Messery, who spent 12 years talking to the veil in the hopes of befriending it; some say that she really did. Others think she was just a loon.
She could see why Lucius laughed at the thought of her continuing this legacy of shoddy, slightly off-kilter kind of research. But Hermione couldn't deny that something about the archway drew people in, and it had to be logically explained. She couldn't go on living with this thing in the shadows of her dreams if she didn't at least try to understand why.
"Charms, maybe that could lead to something…" The sound startled her before she realized she was muttering to herself. Hermione had been up for far too long and knew she needed to crawl into bed before she passed out right here.
She stood from her chair and turned to walk away from her desk when a jagged edge of the rockface snagged the heel of her shoe. Her arms flailed as she tried to regain her balance, her fingers grasping for her desk, but it rapidly fell away from her. It felt as if she was falling in slow motion, and she blamed the exhaustion for that. Though everything sped up once, she had the icy realization that she would fall right by the archway, and she had no time or way to stop it.
When her body roughly hit the stone, she thought she'd be dead a second later. The air was knocked out of her, and there was nothing she could do but struggle to breathe for the first few moments. But when she finally blinked back the tears in her eyes, she noticed how her arm wasn't touching the veil-like it should've been. In fact, the veil itself had moved completely out of her way, as if pushed by a silent gust of wind.
Hermione immediately thought of Unspeakable Messery; maybe the old witch hadn't been so crazy after all. If the veil was a being rather than a thing, then the magical rules which governed it would be completely different.
McGonagall's voice rang through her head, explaining the basic magic principles in her first year at Hogwarts.
"You cannot create food with magic… Death and magic do not mix; no spell can raise the dead, for a good reason…"
If the veil was so vastly different from what she expected, it would warrant her going back to the basics of magic to get better foundational research. Her brain was buzzing, and despite her sore, tired eyes, she was ready to start researching more. As if working on its own, her brain had already begun compiling lists of books and theories to grab from her personal library and the Ministry library in the morning to begin her research.
Hermione had no idea where this would take her, though her thoughts wandered back to Sirius every time she saw the arch. It was like watching him be pulled into that veil every time she blinked, a photo negative horror show mirroring the calm world in front of her.
She'd learned her lesson from watching the Death Eaters and Voldemort play with magic and death; nothing good came of it. She couldn't let herself entertain the idea of doing this for Sirius; her heart hurt too much remembering his laugh, for her to give herself permission to walk such a dangerous line. Even now, at age 26, she wasn't sure she could handle the responsibility of having to make such a difficult ethical and moral decision.
As she walked out of the Department of Mysteries and made her way back to the floo point, she couldn't help but let her mind wander back to her fifth year. The summer she spent giggling with Ginny whenever Sirius looked their way, sneaking his fire whiskey when he'd go to bed, eavesdropping on Order meetings with Fred and George. Things were so simple and yet so complicated back then, but they all had each other to dull the pain at least that summer.
Maybe that's why it hurt so much more to lose Sirius; it was like losing him twice. She'd become so accustomed to having him around that summer, and then he was gone when she went back to school. She couldn't even write him letters, not that she would've known what to say if she'd been allowed to write him. Then, the first time she'd seen him since Christmas, is watching Bellatrix hit him with some vile curse and the veil wrap around him like a shroud pulling him away from Harry.
He was still on her mind as she slipped between her sheets, and despite trying everything, she couldn't banish the sight of him from the back of her eyelids. But he wasn't dying anymore; she just remembered the way he looked when he smiled and laughed, the way he looked when he'd wink at her and Ginny over dinner just to get them to giggle. Hermione's bed was cold, and she felt lonely, and the sight of Sirius Black in her mind was a small comfort that helped lull her into desperately needed sleep.