Disclaimer: I obviously don't own it. It's all for fun.
Summary: This is a response to the fanfiction challenge at Third Floor Corridor. What happened when Severus and Draco escaped from Hogwarts? Events are set in motion that will either save Severus or get him killed. A nosy Gryffindor finds something that leads her on an adventure she never dreamed possible. No Slash. HBP compliant. Will be SS/HG.
Mak is of course my beta; who is amazing.
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Chapter 2
Finding a Letter
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Hermione walked silently through the empty halls of Hogwarts contemplating the events of the previous week. She had not left, deciding to stay back and help the new Headmistress. Minerva McGonagall was in dire need of help to get the castle fixed up and try to figure out how she was going to convince parents to let their children return to the school.
Hermione didn't quite know how to react, or feel, about the events that had unfolded so quickly. What happened had quite literally thrown everyone for a loop. Harry could not get over the fact that Severus Snape had killed Albus Dumbledore. It seemed he had a vendetta against him now, and Hermione did not want to be there when the two met again. It was going to be horrible.
Harry had left to go to Privet Drive to renew the blood protection on him. Ron had gone with him to stay a few weeks. It was safer that way.
Hermione's legs had brought her to the Headmistress' office. She was currently gone on a trip to Hogsmeade. Hermione started walking around the room not really knowing what she was doing or what she could be looking for. She gazed at the portraits of the past Headmaster and Headmistresses. Most of them were asleep, but one was still awake.
Phineas Nigellus Black was wide awake and glaring. He was seated in a regal looking chair, with silver snakes carved into the wood. Hermione took a moment to gaze up at him, before he got aggravated, glared at her, and said "I know you aren't staring at me because of my looks."
She wanted to laugh but this was the great-great-grandfather of Harry's godfather. Plus, she was always one to respect an elder, even if he was long dead and gone. "Well, I'm not really sure why I'm up here, but, I'm looking for some information. Perhaps you would be kind enough to help me."
"Ha, help a Gryffindor? I think not." He was about to tell her to sod off, but there was something in the back of his head telling him he should help her.
Phineas had known what was going to happen in the tower that night. Albus had talked to him and the other portraits about what was going on in the wizarding world. The others had not been much help; it was a poor design in the making of their portraits. Usually they could only say catchphrases, but Phineas had been in possession of a Dark Arts book that allowed him to retain some bit of his intelligence. It was a good thing he did too, because Albus had come to him more than once asking for advice. It made the other portraits a tad jealous and he reveled in that fact.
No, there was something special about this one. Perhaps she was the one to help his snake out. "I hope you aren't the type of adolescent that is self-absorbed and uninformed. It would be a pity if another individual jumped to conclusions about a certain individual."
Hermione didn't quite know what to make of this comment. Phineas Black was never one to really talk to students and if he did he never really seemed nice. "I certainly hope I'm not uninformed. As far as self-absorbed…I'm no Slytherin, sir," she said, placing her hands on her hips and glaring back at the previous Headmaster.
Phineas liked her spunk and she didn't seem too ignorant. Well, perhaps she would be the one to help. He particularly liked the "I'm no Slytherin" comment. If he had been alive he might have chuckled. "Well, I suppose I could give you a bit of information." He glanced over at a small shelf full of odd objects and pictures. It was packed to the brim; some objects looked like they were just centimeters away from falling off. The dust was probably the only thing keeping them on the shelf. They looked like they hadn't been touched in ages.
Hermione followed his gaze and looked inquisitively at the shelf. She looked up at Phineas to see him still gazing at it. Something of importance must be there, she thought. Walking over there carefully, she looked back quickly to see him still staring at the shelf. She didn't want to touch anything, so she stood on her toes to get a better look at some of the objects. On the shelf were mostly gadgets and Muggle items that were of no real use. Sporadically strewn among the objects were pictures. There were small pictures, larger pictures, some in frames, some set up against objects, but mostly Hermione couldn't figure out who were in the pictures.
After looking over all the pictures she went through a second time and stopped a moment and gazed at one picture. For some reason it just stood out to her. The picture didn't have nearly as much dust as the others. She carefully picked it up and studied it. She skillfully looked up to see Phineas looking at her with a smirk. She turned around, her back facing Phineas so she could look at the picture without being stuck under his gaze.
Fixing her eyes on the picture her thought process led her to one conclusion. It was a young Albus Dumbledore. He was a little boy, about the age of ten, with auburn hair. He was wearing a pair of glasses and a midnight blue shirt with moons and stars on it. The young Albus was sitting on his bed, hopping around on his bum. Every now and then he would pull a book out from under him and smile broadly at it. Hermione had to squint to read the title, Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration. Hermione knew the book to be a very in depth and detailed book. How a young Albus could ever have been interested in that was beyond her. However, he was considered one of the greatest wizards of all time, so it wouldn't be too out of sorts if he had learned from it at a young age.
She turned it over; the back panel looked almost new and she slid it from the frame. A small piece of parchment fell to the floor before she could catch it. Picking it up she unfolded it to read a message scrawled across it:
The Truth Transforms us all…
The Truth Transforms us all. The Truth Transforms us all… It ran like a mantra through her head. What does it mean? Slowly she realized there seemed to be a lot of emphasis on the T's written in the note. She looked at the letter and the picture for quite some time before it clicked in her head. The three T's, there were three T's in the note and three T's in the book young Albus was reading. She deduced that there could be more information in a copy of the book. Now, where would she find the book in question?
She spun around quickly, looking for all the possible places the book could be. Phineas was smirking even more now, watching the witch as she looked around desperately for the book. "You know, if you thought about it, the book would seem to be practically under your nose," he said casually as he plucked at nonexistent threads on the chair he was seated on.
Hermione stopped and looked up at him before she looked down. There was nothing there but the floor. She sat down in the nearest chair against the wall. Beside her was a narrow table. She thought and thought about where the book would be. She looked at Phineas for more help when he just sighed in annoyance and gave her, and the table, a pointed look.
She stood up and looked at the table a little more. There was a drawer in the front of it, but she couldn't open it, no matter how hard she pulled. Brilliant. A table I can't get into. Bloody hell! What am I supposed to do with a locked drawer? Think Hermione, think. The picture frame was still in her hand. Upon further inspection she noticed that the design on the frame matched that of the design around the drawer. Now, she was even more determined to find a way to open the drawer. There were no coincidences when it came to Albus Dumbledore. Running her hand under the table she felt a little notch in the wood. She pushed the notch in and the drawer sprang open. She caught the drawer before it could hit her in the chest. Pulling it open she found a dusty book entitled, Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration. It was ratty and torn, looking well over one hundred years old. She found that the book was indeed over one hundred years old as she checked the date it was published.
She handled the book as if it were precious cargo. Sitting behind the Headmistress' desk she set it down gently and just stared at it for a few seconds in wonder. There had to be something about this book that could help her. Help her how? She had no clue.
She flipped through the book, dust flying everywhere. Her flipping came to a halt when she felt a piece of parchment sandwiched between two pages. "What is this?" she asked herself.
Unfolding the parchment she carefully ironed it out with her hands so it was laying flat on the desk.
Miss Granger,
Yes, I'm quite sure it is you who will find this letter. You aren't the brightest witch of your age for naught. Now, I would like to discuss a few things with you.
First, things are not always what they seem. You will do well to remember that.
Second, events have come to pass that doom an innocent man. You have more compassion than most and I know you can successfully figure the clues out to achieve your goal.
Lastly, you will need to begin your journey in the snake's lair. I would start in the library. Glance over Fyodor Dostoevsky's "The Idiot." Page 384.
Good luck,
Albus Dumbledore
Hermione sat down heavily in her chair and re-read the letter, taking it all in, disbelief clouding her senses. She was too stunned to think, though she was keenly aware of the fact that her heart and mind were racing in sync. After a moment of her mind literally going blank, it went into overdrive.
How could Dumbledore have known she was going to find the letter? Even if she was the brightest witch of her age, anyone really could have found that letter. It struck her in that moment that she was getting instructions from a man who was dead. Even in his death he was meddling.
The next thing that raced through her mind was the fact that she was now involved in the middle of some elaborate plan that she could not comprehend. Leaning back against the chair, she stared at the ceiling. Many emotions were coursing through her in those moments; confusion, disbelief, curiousness, speechlessness, and the feeling of being utterly stunned. This isn't helping, she thought, before she looked back down at the piece of parchment that had changed everything so quickly. Leaning her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her fist, she scanned the letter once again.
"Things aren't always what they seem," she read aloud, idlely wondering which situations he was referring to. It was made clear, in her mind, the moment she read the next paragraph. "Innocent man," she whispered. Severus Snape, she thought after a short pause. She scrunched her eyebrows together. From what Harry had told her he didn't seem innocent. Doomed yes, but innocent? That was a hard concept to grasp at this point in time, but perhaps the contents of the last part of the letter would give her perspective.
The snakes lair…snakes lair…hmm…snake…Snape…Snape's quarters…that has to be it. It was all clicking in her mind now. Headmaster Black had mentioned helping a snake, and the biggest snake of them all would have been the Head of Slytherin house. Where in the world would his rooms be though? The dungeons yes, but she had never really ventured down there.
Her resolve hardened at she read the part of how she would have to figure the clues out. What clues? Lead her to what conclusion?taringuld be a pity o said, Everything that had occurred in the past ten minutes ran through her mind. Her biggest anxiety came from not knowing what she would discover. Either way, she would figure it out.
He was sending her to the library. Of course he would send her there. She had to read a passage from Dostoevsky. Well, if that's where he wanted her to start, then that was where she was going to head.
She walked out of the office, letter in hand, and walked quickly to the library. She was anxious to find the passage. The library was empty, of course, and she found her way to the book in question. Looking on the shelf she found two copies of the book. One in English, and the other in Russian. She gazed at the two, deciding which one would be the correct book. Taking them both down she flipped through the English version first.
Carefully, she read the page twice, just to let the contents soak in. The third time through, a passage caught her eye, as if it was written in bold letters:
'Enough!' he cried, suddenly, to the whole party. 'It's my fault…more than anyone's. Lebedev, here's the keys.'
Interesting, she thought as she read it over a few more times, just to make sure she could justify the passage as the correct one. Taking both versions of the book with her she headed down to the dungeons. If it had been a school year, she wouldn't have ventured down there without Harry and Ron. But now, it felt weird being down there alone. The halls were dimly lit and there was a bit of a draft coming down the hall. Even though she didn't have to worry about anyone jumping out at her, the hairs on the back of her neck still stood up.
How the hell was she going to guess where his rooms where? The dungeons were dark and dreary. Gryffindor tower felt overly homely in that moment. She shook her head in amazement. It would literally take her all day to find out the location. In the back of her mind she knew she could ask the Headmistress, but that would mean letting her in on why she was looking for his rooms in the first place.
Sighing heavily she took out the book and started to read the passage out loud. She kept walking down the corridor, past suits of armor and pictures that she didn't recognize, and read for a few feet before she stomped her foot in frustration. This was getting her no where. Dumbledore could have at least given her an inkling of where Snape's quarters were.
She flipped through the Russian version and tried to pronounce the words as best she could. After reading it a couple of times she still had a little trouble. So much for those teach yourself Russian books, she thought acidly as she struggled with the words.
'достаточно! ' он кричал, внезапно, к целой стороне(партии). 'это - моя ошибка ... больше чем чей - то. Лебедев, вот - ключи. ' She said aloud, stumbling over a few of the words. Still walking she repreated "вот - ключи" trying to get the pronunciation correct. Without knowing it she had passed a large tapestry, reaching from the floor to the ceiling, which, wasn't very high due to the low ceilings of the dungeons. It was a dark green, almost black color and most of the threads were terribly thin. The scene was of the Hogwarts castle and Salazaar Slytherin was standing in front of it with a proud look on his face. The unassuming tapestry was just what Hermione was looking for.
As she passed saying "вот - ключи" with the correct pronunciation the right corner of the tapestry moved to reveal a wooden door that creaked open slowly. Hermione stopped at the creaking sound and turned to look inside. She stepped back and looked in cautiously. From what she could see the door led to a dimly lit room, from what she could see. The light source came from a candle; she could see a black sofa and a fireplace in front of it. Well, what she was sure was a fireplace. Nothing seemed amiss so she walked into the room looking around to make sure no one was around or hiding in any dark corners.
Once she was inside the room the tapestry moved back into place and the door closed. She was now in Severus Snape's quarters. Great. Hermione had no idea where to begin so she settled on sitting on the worn leather couch. Using her wand she started a fire and the room got marginally brighter. For a while she sat there, staring into the flames wondering what the hell she was doing in the snake's lair.
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A/N: A huge thanks to mak for finding the quote and providing the Russian.
'enough!' he cried, suddenly, to the whole party. 'it's my fault...more than anyone's. Lebedev, here's the keys.'
'достаточно! ' он кричал, внезапно, к целой стороне(партии). 'это - моя ошибка ... больше чем чей - то. Lebedev, вот - ключи. '
last name: Достоевский
first name: Фёдор
book's title: идиот
Dostoevsky's The Idiot: Достоевский идиот