I don't own anything, all rights belong to JK Rowling, ACD, Mark Gatiss and regretfully, Steven Moffat. This is a disclaimer for the rest of this fic, bc I can't be bothered writing this every single time.
Thank you for the favourites and the reviews; it prompted me to finish this earlier.
Updates are (probably) every Sunday from now on.
Chapter 2: The Black Mirror
Sherlock found Holmes Manor dull as usual, despite being a hundreds-year-old magical castle, there is just very little that is exciting about it. The paintings behave the same way and nothing is exciting enough about any of the magical contraptions.
A house-elf out of the many hundreds in his house greeted him on his way in and set to inform his parents. It's been years since his last visited, he only ever sees his family on Christmas and that's usually at an expensive muggle diner on his brother's account, as he often needed to dash or receive an important call and then dash before the dinner is finished, leaving Sherlock to deal with his parents endless nagging. Sometimes he wonders if he does that on purpose before remembering that it is Mycroft who spends the most times with his parents.
"Sherlock!" His mother cried out, "Oh, you came to visit us."
"Um, err, I got something to ask you actually," Sherlock muttered, struggling to get himself out of his mother's tight grasp. "I need to speak with Hermione Granger, now."
"She's Weasley now dear, comes around every Monday for tea, poor sod, working herself harder than Merlin himself. Anyway, why can't you talk to her?"
"I basically lost contact with everyone, the Ministry moved recently now and I can't find it," Sherlock answered.
"Alright, come around on Monday."
"No mother, it's urgent, I need to speak to her now."
"Alright then, come on."
She led him down the hall and into the maze of corridors inside this vast net that Sherlock once called home, through twists and turns they went, until finally, his mother stopped in front of a black door with a raven carved on to it. She took out her wand and tapped it against the door, it opened revealing a black mirror in the centre of the room. Sherlock didn't remember using this mirror that can communicate with anyone at anytime anywhere ever before, he only is aware of this through one of his many lessons about the family history, the Black Mirror, his teacher then called it before his departure to Hogwarts.
Sherlock's mother tapped her wand against the edge of the glass and muttered something under her breath, at once the smooth surface rippled like water, and a bunch of bushy hair that was unmistakably Hermione's appeared on the smooth black surface. Alarmed, she turned around and for a moment she appeared to look into a ghost's eyes, if only she could see her face now, Sherlock mused, feeling a smirk creeping up his face, "Good afternoon, Mrs Weasley." He greeted, taking a mock bow towards the screen.
"You. You're dead, you killed yourself after the battle, jumped off a bridge, they even found a note, left in your old room." Hermione gasped.
"It was easy; I thought you of all people might know. A simple spell prevented me from dying, after which I hid out in the muggle world. Which the bunch of you idiots would've found me if you had the brains to check the muggle newspapers."
Hermione rolled her eyes and laughed, "Of course, I knew it. Of course, we can't compete with your massive intellect. What was Mycroft in on this?"
"As I regret to tell, you, yes."
"So go on, why now, what happened out there that is so important that you contacted me?"
Sherlock swallowed, "Do you know about the break-in in the Tower of London, Pentonville Prison and Bank of England a week ago?"
"There was a break-in in three of the most secure places in muggle England?" Hermione asked, aghast.
"Yeah well, that wasn't important. The thing was, I was called in to investigate when I found…"
"You are a detective now?"
Sherlock threw her a look that is all too familiar, and Hermione stopped and gestured for him to go on.
"So, as I was saying, it was all good and well until the screen glitched and this appeared." He held up a picture for her to see, it was the image of what looks to be like Voldemort, returned from the dead.
It took a moment for Hermione to see clearly what was on the screen, when she did, she gasped rather loudly, "But we just had a series of murder that was done in the same style as when it was Voldemort's reign, all muggle-born, all killed with the killing curse. We just assumed that it was Neo Death Eaters going rogue again."
"Well you assumed wrong, it seems that Voldemort is once again, regretfully, at large."
A knocking sound that issued from the door seems to grab the attention of Hermione, she shouted over her shoulder something before turning back, "I'm sorry Sherlock, I got to go, there's been a new murder and they think they're on to something. Can you drop by to the Ministry tomorrow?"
"Of course." Sherlock nodded, "And I can't deal with..." His voice became softer, "Not after…you know…Victor."
Her eyes were full of understanding. "I know." She whispered before turning away, leaving him with an empty mirror to stare at.
I know, I know, the last bit may be translated as Hermione/Sherlock, but they knew each other long ago and they had a strong friendship. I have no intention for things to go further with him, so, there.