The Phantom of Hogwarts

by silver-nightstorm

Hermione Granger always found it difficult to believe what she couldn't see.

For: The Broadway Musicals Challenge, The OTP Bootcamp, and The 2012 Hogwarts Games

Prompts: "The Phantom of the Opera" (song), whisper, evolution, "I will grow old or die trying", mystery (genre), music, one main character

Notes: This story takes place in an AU where Snape dies in Hogwarts, and Hermione is a student many, many, many years after the 1998 Battle of Hogwarts against Lord Voldemort. Please check out my Severus/Hermione multichap "Once".

The Phantom of Hogwarts

By silver-nightstorm

Summary: Hermione Granger always found it difficult to believe what she couldn't see.

Word Count: 4,462

XX

It is said that in the deepest, darkest depths of the dungeons of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry lives a ghost, a reclusive ghost who rarely ventures out into the open. It is said that this ghost is strangely lifelike, strangely corporeal. There have been tales of students, always of the same type, that are influenced by this ghost and never seen again. It is said that this ghost was a teacher at Hogwarts. It is said that this teacher became the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the year 1998 and that at the end of that very year, he perished.

That man, that teacher, that Headmaster, was Severus Snape. His portrait in the Headmaster's office is one of the many mysteries that live in Hogwarts even centuries after his untimely demise. The portraits that are painted of the Headmasters of this grand institution are unique in their essence. While portraits in the Wizarding World move and speak and act like the ones they depict, the portraits of the past Headmasters and Headmistresses actually are their predecessors. Because of this fact, they are unable to move until their soul is properly at rest.

The soul of Severus Snape has been in unrest for many millennia.

XX

Hogwarts, January 9th, 7284

Potions Class, North Tower - Gryffindor and Slytherin Seventh Years

"Well, that's the biggest load of rubbish I've ever heard," scoffed Hermione Granger as she tucked an unruly brown curl behind her ear. She continued to dice the shriveled figs in front of her while her lab partner, a Slytherin named Vera Prince, continued to speak.

"It's not rubbish!" said Vera under her breath. "You know, he's the reason we don't have Potions in the Dungeons anymore cause he still brews potions in his old rooms. Every year, a student from my house sees him! And... you won't believe me, I know it but... this year... I saw him."

Hermione turned and fixed the tiny witch next to her with a skeptic look. "Right. And I'm a flying purple people eater."

"Wot?"

"Sorry, it's... a Muggle song, you wouldn't..."

Vera waved her off with her spare hand as she swept her daisy roots into her cauldron. "I even talked to him, you know? About you. But I'm not in any danger from him, though, so it's all right... but you... You know... he only goes after Muggle born Gryffindor witches..." Vera's voice trailed off as she pointedly looked at the Gryffindor badge on Hermione's robes.

"That's just a convenient excuse for you to not show him to me," retorted Hermione. "You know, I won't believe you without the proof of my own eyes. Ghosts can't be corporeal; they wouldn't be ghosts anymore if they were. That's just logic."

Vera sighed and put her silver bladed knife down. "You know, Hermione... One day, you'll happen upon something that can't be explained by magic or logic. Then you'll see."

XX

Dungeons, January 9th, 10:45 PM

"It's so... cold down here," mumbled Hermione, wrapping her robes around her more securely.

Vera laughed, the sound echoing down the hallway. "You always make fun of my obsession with nice woolen socks. Now you know why I adore them."

"Well, my toes feel like they're going to pop off any second," retorted Hermione. "You mind loaning me a pair?"

"If you're nice to me," winked Vera over her shoulder. "Okay," she said as she walked down. "I was going down this way to meet up with..." her caramel skin showed a hint of red under her cheeks, "it doesn't matter." Hermione let out an amused snort. "I walked down this hallway and I saw a side passage just down there. I thought I'd investigate and then I saw him a bit further on."

"Are you not gonna come with me?"

"See, that's the thing," began Vera. "He's never appeared for more than one person. Ever. You need to be alone to see him." She shrugged, and tossed her black hair over her shoulder. "If you want to see him, you're on your own... Don't tell me you're scared."

Hermione scoffed. "Please. I don't even believe there's anything down there. How can I be scared of nothing?"

"Hey," called Vera as Hermione started to make her way down the hall. "If you die, I expect you to write a will saying that I'm not to blame here."

Hermione laughed, the tinkling sound bouncing eerily off of the walls. She threw a backwards wave to Vera and headed away down the hall.

Vera sighed as she watched her best friend wander off. "Wands out!" Vera called after her. Turning away, she headed back to the Slytherin common room. "For a Muggleborn, she really has no knowledge of horror movies. I swear, that girl... You never wander off on your own!"

XX

Dungeons, The (Former) Potions Hallway, January 9th, 10:50 PM

As Hermione turned into the passageway that Vera had indicated, she sighed a little as the temperature rose to be comfortably warm. Wall scones hung every few feet but the dim lighting did little for the eyes. Hollow niches and little side passages existed where students once hid to snog in the times when classes took place down here. Years of neglect had left the walls with a slightly slimy look, but as Hermione trailed her hand down one of them, she discovered that the stone was solid and dry under her fingers – and slightly warm to the touch.

In all honesty, she was doing well at hiding her nerves until a baritone voice uttered string of expletives causing her to jump and let out a little yelp.

She leaned against one of the walls, looking at her feet, panting and struggling to catch her breath, as she repeated to herself that she couldn't have possibly heard anything. No one had been down in the dungeons in ages so it just wasn't possible and...

A door slammed open and purposeful footsteps made their way to stop in front of Hermione. She didn't look up. She couldn't look up. She couldn't...

"Miss, what are you doing down here? You're not even in my house." It was the same baritone voice from before.

Hermione's head snapped up and she was met with the darkest pair of brown eyes she'd ever seen. With some difficulty, she managed to pull her eyes away to look at the rest of the tall figure standing in front of her.

He was a good head taller than her, garbed completely in pitch black robes. He was lean, but not scrawny, with the sort of build that indicated fitness but not excessive athleticism. A tattered scarf was wrapped around his neck multiple times making his head look much smaller than it should have. His face was ghostly pale, dominated by a large hooked nose and framed by sallow black hair.

"Wha...?" Hermione managed. "You're... but it's not possible but... You're Sever..." Realizing what she was about to say, Hermione snapped her mouth shut. "You can't be, so you're someone else." She put one hand firmly on his chest and pushed him away from her. "Who are you?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "Your friend assured me that you're not a dunderhead, but I am having sincere doubts."

"You don't mean to say..." Hermione's voice trailed off and she suddenly stood straight as inspiration hit her. "Vera! Merlin, I can't believe she'd go through these lengths to make me believe some legend!" She spun on her heel and began to make her way back towards her friend. "I'm so sorry that you got pulled into this charade!" she called. Suddenly stopping, she spun around. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch... your real name..."

The hallway behind her was empty. The once dim lights were completely off, the bulbs smashed. A chilly breeze swept down the hall and Hermione shivered.

"I suppose..." she whispered, her voice trailing off. "Maybe it... No. Impossible."

She turned and hurried out of the dungeons as quickly as her feet could carry her.

XX

Gryffindor Tower, Girls Dormitory, January 9th, 11:07 PM

Hermione looked into the little handheld mirror as it rang repeatedly. She was lounging on her four poster bed with the red-velvet drawings pulled tightly shut. Her reflection suddenly rippled to be replaced by caramel skin and curly black hair.

"You know, it's rude to involve other people in your plots."

Vera's mouth dropped open in the glass. "You have got to be joking," she sputtered. "Plots? I haven't started any plots! … Well, I haven't started any that involve you."

Hermione glared. "Seriously, don't lie to me," she snapped. "That poor seventh year you had play dress up in the dungeons. Tell me, it was McGonagall, wasn't it? He's the only one with that build. I can't believe you'd go to those lengths. You even had him charm the hallways so the lights were on and..."

"The lights were on?" said Vera, giving Hermione a strange look. "What are you talking about? It was pitch black when I went down there, I had to use a Lumos to see my hand in front of my face. I literally ran into Snape. Scared the life out of us both, him a bit more than me." Vera smirked at her own joke, but then sighed and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes at Hermione's irascible expression. "I ought to put you in the loony bin, the way you've been going on. I'm not that desperate to make you believe in this, Hermione. I can't believe you think I am."

"I..." Hermione sighed and tossed the mirror down on the bed. "What should I believe, Vera?" she whispered. "You tell me..."

A gust of chill wind blew through the velvet drawings. Hermione shivered and grabbed at the mirror, cursing as she saw only her reflection in it – the connection had dissolved as soon as she had let it go. The temperature suddenly rose once more and Hermione sighed as a comforting warmth infused her body. Turning the mirror thrice in her hands, she began to utter the charm to contact Vera once more to apologize when her eyes focused properly on the mirror's rippling surface. Her face and then...

Hermione's eyes widened and she spun around. Leaning up against the headboard was the same man from earlier. She scrambled backwards so she was on the foot of the bed and stared at him, dumbstruck, until he smirked.

"What? How... you can't get up here... how did you?" she stammered helplessly, looking back and forth. "I... I could scream, you know. People would come running. There are four other girls in this dormitory and Shannon knows some nasty hexes!"

"Then why don't you?" The man raised an eyebrow. He wore the same black robes from earlier, this time unbuttoned, with a pair of dress slacks and a dress shirt underneath. He had his long legs extended in front of him casually crossed at the ankles and he was idly playing with the scarf, pulling it this way and that as if making sure that his neck remained hidden.

"I... I don't..." Hermione trailed off. Strangely enough, she didn't feel threatened. She stared the man, noticing the obviously wrinkled sheets under his form and the depressed pillow that supported his back. "You're him, aren't you? You're really him?"

"Took you long enough," he said with an eye roll. "Over the years, I've met many girls with great skills of denial, but I never took you to be one of those dunderheads. Now, here's the real question. Will you help me?"

"Help you... with what?" said Hermione cautiously, slowly moving away from her spot at the foot of her bed. She slid up so she was sitting cross legged next to the man facing him, not relaxing enough to lean back onto the pillows behind her.

"Passing on," he said. "I've been stuck here for a bloody long time and frankly, I'm sick of it. I need you to find out why, and I need you to get me out of here."

"How... How long have you been... stuck here?"

"You're an intelligent girl, Miss Granger. I'm sure you've read Hogwarts: A History a trillion times cover to cover. Do the maths."

"Right," managed Hermione. "I'm sorry, this is all very... odd... I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to react and why me and..."

"You can do magic. What's so bloody odd about a ghost?"

"A corporeal ghost."

"Do some research, Miss Granger. I'm sure you'll find the answer. You have one week."

"Oh... right, why didn't I..." Hermione quickly grabbed a quill off her other pillow and started jotting down notes on her Potions essay, shivering as the temperature dropped suddenly once more. "I... this is certainly quite strange but I suppose I can figure this all out with some logic... Oh, speaking of, what should I call you?" She looked up to where the man was sitting only to find rumbled sheets. "Wha...?"

Another gust of wind swept through the room, and a Hermione felt a warm presence next to her. "You may address me as Headmaster, Professor, or Sir," replied a deep voice. "Anything less shall not be tolerated." She shivered.

The temperature returned to normal and Hermione let out a shuddering breath. It was only when she was about to doze off that she realized that he hadn't answered her second question. Why her?

XX

Charms Classroom, January 10th, 9 AM

"I'm sorry Vera, I really am," said Hermione once more. "I believe you, I do. And I don't think you'd go to such lengths to make me agree with you, okay?"

Vera put her book bag down on the desk next to Hermione and plopped down in her regular seat. "No hard feelings, darling," she said. "There are times meant for fighting and breaking, and then there are times meant to be ignored. You've always been a bit stubborn in what you believe, and I've learned to have a thick skin as far as your random accusations go. Now, it's about time you told me what happened."

"I saw him twice."

"What?" cried Vera. "Wha... What? I've never heard of that happening and..." Vera reached out and grabbed Hermione's shoulders in both of hers. "Hermione, when I met him, we talked for a little bit and... I don't even remember how but somehow, I was telling him all about you. Be careful, okay? I don't think it's a good idea for you to go to the dungeons again because he seems to be after you or something and..."

Hermione laid a hand on Vera's arm. "The second time I saw him wasn't in the dungeons, Vera. I saw him in my room. He was in my dorm! On my bed! Vera, what's happening?"

"I..." Vera sighed, as she settled back into her chair. She swept a hand through her curls, mussing them up even more. "I don't know. According to the stories, the last time he appeared to someone twice was in the 5000's. A Muggleborn Gryffindor then too... and she... she disappeared seven days later. No one knows what happened to her. What... what does he want from you?"

"Research," said Hermione haltingly. "He... he wants me to find a way for him to pass on to the next world. He's been stuck as a ghost for a very long time and he just wants to get out and..." Vera's horror struck expression stopped Hermione mid-sentence. "What?"

"He wants your help to pass on?" whispered Vera. "And you agreed?" Hermione nodded minutely and Vera's face blanched. "Oh, Merlin, Hermione.. I... shit..." Without another word, Vera jumped out of her seat, grabbed her bag, and rushed out of the classroom, nearly knocking over Professor Bane, the Charms teacher, on her way into the classroom.

XX

Free Period, January 10th, 11:30 PM

Vera was waiting for Hermione in front of the library. She had a book clutched tightly to her chest and before the Gryffindor could even speak, Vera had grabbed her hand and began to drag her down the hallway. Throwing the door of an empty classroom open, Vera slammed the book down on the table causing Hermione to jump.

"I always thought you were intelligent," hissed Vera. "Tell me, what exactly do you know about ghost lore?"

"They're the imprints of souls of witches and wizards who can't move on or have a strong connection to the location they haunt."

"Yes!" said Vera. "They're imprints! That means that the true soul of the witch or wizard in question is in no way actually connected to the ghost. You just signed yourself up for an impossible task."

"If that's all, why did you react that way?" retorted Hermione. "Vera, you acted like my life was in danger or something..."

In response, Vera poked her finger into the book that she had placed on the desk. She spun it around so Hermione could read the title on the worn leather bound cover. Hermione instantly recognized it as one of the tomes she'd bypassed many times since it appeared to be rubbish. Ghost Lore: Myths and Legends.

"I still don't get why you're reacting so..."

Vera flipped the book open and turned the pages until the tome fell open on a page she had marked with a green silk bookmark. "Read. And then tell me what you think." Vera shouldered her bag. "Now, I need to apologize to Bane for this morning. Meet me in the library when you're done."

Hermione settled herself in one of the desks in the room and picked up the book.

Although ghosts technically cannot leave the mortal plane, they tend to fade from existence as the years accumulate. It is rare for a ghost to remain for more than three-thousand years. There have, however, been some recorded cases in which ghosts have remained for longer than five-thousand years.

If a ghost exists in one place continuously for more than four-thousand years, it is said that they begin to evolve. No one truly knows what happens to a ghost at this point, the process of evolution has created different scenarios each time this has occurred. One fact has become clear – at this point in a ghosts existence, it has reconnected with its soul and is no longer a typical ghost; it is still is able to do everything a ghost normally can... but it is somehow simultaneously corporeal. This belief leads experts to think that at this point in time, a ghost can 'pass on'.

Myths from ancient cultures say that there have been phenomenon of ghosts 'aging'. At this next step in a ghosts' evolution, it is apparently possible for it to pass on into the next realm. Legend dictates that it takes a great sacrifice to let a ghost move on to the next life. What exactly this sacrifice is is unknown – supposedly, it is unique to each ghost based on what it experienced while it was alive. However, the more pain the ghost went through while alive, and the more violent the ghosts death, the greater the sacrifice must be.

"A sacrifice?" muttered Hermione, shivering as she closed the book. "That's utter rubbish!"

"It is the only lead you have so far, Miss Granger."

Hermione let out a little startled gasp and looked up to find Severus Snape leaning against the open door frame. A few students ambled by, chattering aimlessly, not even noticing the man. Snape twisted his scarf around his fingers and walked into the room.

"And... it is the truth."

"A sacrifice?" retorted Hermione. "That's bloody ridiculous. Sacrifices are only used in Dark Magic and becoming a ghost..."

"Is very dark magic," finished Snape. "Why do you think the Ministry holds jurisdiction over ghosts? They know what we needed to do to become ghosts. They know what the world would think of us if it knew as well. Only the most desperate take that step, Miss Granger."

"Then why did you?" she retorted, staring at him. "And why haven't you faded like the other ghosts? Hogwarts: A History says that we once had a ghost teaching History of Magic. He faded. Why haven't you?"

The temperature dropped in the room, and Severus's form flickered. "Because I didn't choose this fate, Miss Granger. Someone chose it for me." And he was gone.

XX

Gryffindor Tower, Girls Dormitory, January 10th, 11:49 PM

In the dormitory for seventh year Gryffindor girls, a chill breeze blew through the room, but only one girl shivered. She relaxed mere moments later when her body was filled with a soothing warmth.

Suddenly, Hermione Granger tossed and turned in her four poster bed. Her sheets were suddenly twisted around her and her hair was in tangled knots. Her fists were clenched together tightly, her blunt nails digging crescent moons into her palms. Beads of sweat dripped down her face which was scrunched in anguish.

The cause of her anguish, however, lay within her dreams.

"Because, Miss Granger, I need a pure-hearted girl to sacrifice her life for me. That is the cost of freeing my soul," the dark man smirked. "You did promise, after all. You wouldn't dare break a promise, would you? Because I could make your life a living hell..."

Sweating, Hermione sat up in bed, the memory of her dream unclear but the fear still present. She pulled her dressing robe on and slid her feet into a pair of slippers. Padding softly to her side table, she picked up her wand and crept out of the dorm.

Hermione found herself in the library. Casting a wordless Lumos, she skimmed down the volumes of books until she found the one she was searching for – Hogwarts: A History – The Battle of Hogwarts: 1998. Flipping the text open, she began to read.

Although Severus Snape technically abandoned his post in the middle of his term, he is still considered one of the Headmasters of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the instance of The Man-Who-Lived-Twice, Harry Potter.

Potter recounts the last few moments of Snape's life as he viewed them. "It's weird, you know, because I didn't realize it until later, but when Snape died, it was like the feeling in the room changed. I vaguely remember Voldemort muttering something while Nagini was... um... eating out Snape's throat... and after Snape died, something just felt weird, you know? It got really cold all of a sudden, and then comfortably warm. It was like... he was still there and refused to leave." Here, Harry lets out a laugh. "It's ridiculous, isn't it? Snape would never become a ghost, but I swear, it really felt like he did. Almost like Voldemort cursed him or something." Harry's expression suddenly turns horrified. "You don't think he did, do you?"

After many assurances to Harry that Severus Snape did not become a ghost, we ask the Man-Who-Lived-Twice what his future plans were. At this point, Harry has a charming grin plastered on his face. "Me?" He laughs. "Well, I intend to start a family and grow old. Or die trying."

Hermione slammed the book shut. "Voldemort," she hissed. "It must have been!" She slammed her hands on the table and stood up. Pacing back and forth in front of the table, she rubbed her chin and worried with her hair.

She was very much at war with herself. On one hand, she had no obligation to Professor Snape. There was no logical reason she should help him. Sure, he could haunt her, but Hermione knew she was a bright witch and she knew that she would be able to find some spells to keep him away.

But on the other hand, she felt horribly sorry for the man. She knew what he had gone through – after all, who didn't? The poor man had sacrificed everything for love and paid for his sins over and over only to die at the end of the war and never reap the fruits of his labor. And now, on top of all that, he had been cursed to remain on the earth as a ghost. He could never find peace. Ever.

But for some reason, Hermione was scared. Girls had vanished before in their efforts to help Snape. There was clearly something he wasn't telling her. Clearly. She just couldn't figure out what it possibly was.

XX

January 15th, 9:09 PM

Hermione was tossing and turning again. For the past week, she had immersed herself in her research, trying in vain to find something, anything to help the former Headmaster but to no avail. Nothing existed.

Every night for the last week, Hermione had been having nightmares. She would toss and turn in her bed and awake shrieking only to meet the calm dark eyes of Professor Snape. Wherever she turned, he was there. It was like he was trying to make sure she wouldn't run away.

This night, Hermione wasn't awakened by her own screams. She felt a pair of warm lips brush across her forehead sleepily rolled closer to the warmth next to her, only to wake up to find Snape sitting on her bed once more.

"It's been a week," he said solemnly. "I was hoping you'd find something, unlike those dunderheads." He sighed, his hands once again fiddling with the scarf. "I really did hoped it wouldn't come to this, but you promised me."

"I… just said I would help," mumbled Hermione drowsily, pulling herself up to a sitting position. "I never made a promise."

"YOU GAVE ME YOUR WORD!" shouted Snape suddenly, causing Hermione to jump and cower back from him. He grabbed her shoulders in a tight grasp and shook them. "YOU GAVE ME YOUR WORD AND YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE!" His eyes narrowed, and he glared at her. "Now you must pay."

Suddenly, he kissed her and she gasped and she felt herself grow lightheaded. The entire room seemed to dim and it felt as though her very life was slipping out of her lungs.

The temperature in the room dropped to below zero, causing Veronica Schutz to rise from her bed. Noticing the waving draperies around Hermione's bed, Veronica walked over to see if the brunette was okay. She pulled the hangings back, only to shriek.

Hermione Granger lay on her bed, stiff as a board, pale as a ghost, dead as a doornail. A little piece of parchment rested on her breast, and on it were words written in spiky handwriting.

She broke her promise. Now, she shall spend eternity with me.

XX

In the dark recesses of the Dungeons, Hermione Granger awoke to find herself in a library. The research continues.

XX

I had a lot of difficulty with the ending, so you see it's a bit rushed. I hope to go back to this concept some day and write a multichapter with a more… explored and intense and super special awesome version :D