Hermione straightened her bag, which kept threatening to leave its stubborn mistress and go on a trip on her own; and adjusted her glasses. On this frosty morning, everything went wrong and was not according to plan. To begin with, Draco and Harry had found the envelope she left with the explanations ahead of schedule, looked through Hermione's memories, and ... had given her a good thrashing down. And after - a tearful farewell with drinking strong drinks and assurances of eternal friendship had followed. Now Madam Granger-Snape was suffering from a hangover and pangs of conscience.
"Isn't that what you expected?" The portrait of her husband grumbled from the depths of the bag, and Hermione so wanted to object to him, but for the first time, she had no words, no desire to argue. This, of course, was exactly what she wanted, but it was disgusting at worst, and hard at best. And her stomach, empty despite her anti-hangover potions, grumbled in protest.
Hermione sat down on the floor right in front of the Veil, took out a sandwich from her pocket, and complained to her bag about her fate. The bag was silent for a while.
"Severus? Hey, Severus, did you fall asleep there, or what?" Granger yelled woefully and pushed the side of the bag with the toe of her boot.
"Not at all, wife. I just don't see the point in responding to your lamentations. Did you know that you are the worst kind of drunk?"
"And what, pray-tell, would that be?" Hermione glared at her bag.
"The one who absolutely can't drink," Severus declared to his wife. "Get up, you'll catch a cold sitting here. And besides, you have forty minutes before the portal opens. How are you going to open it? You have such an important day, and you stick around here and mourn your failed fate! Hey, Granger!"
"Do not call me that! I am your wife!" Hermione slammed her fist on the floor and jumped to her feet.
"As if you're letting me forget about this fact for a second," Snape grumbled. "Do you think I'm an insensitive cold man since I'm in no hurry to wipe your snotty nose? Do you think I'm not afraid to let you take the leap into the unknown? Do you think I don't understand that you're throwing away your whole life for my sake?"
"Oh, just look, I managed to touch the strings of the soul in the impenetrable Severus Snape! Just think about it!" Hermione continued to mutter something under her breath as her feet stubbornly carried her towards the Veil, also known as the Mirror of Erised.
Through trial and error, calculations, and consultation with fellow wizards, whose friendship she inherited from Severus, Hermione managed to find out that, yes, the Mirror was a portal to the other side, to the past, if you like, to the world of unfulfilled desires and failed plans. And she definitely needed to get there! And to do this, there was a wonderful ritual of Debt Collection, which would take her to her destination. Oh, how many people owed her! Sirius - before and after Azkaban. The Blacks - for saving Regulus. Lily and Alice - for helping with the birth of their sons. Narcissa Malfoy - for the infertility potion. Severus... Hermione's head was spinning.
"I can't believe it," Hermione yelled again, running her fingers through her hair. "How? Tell me, how did we manage to goof off like that? Yes, thanks to this residual magic alone, we would not only defeat Voldipants but also rewrite history at our discretion!"
"Don't scream, please. I already hate myself, there is no need to add to my plate. And come on, hurry up, you still have to save Regulus, meet my dearest person, and we shall see what else is there. You must act, wife."
"Finally, you remembered it!" Hermione snorted out of habit but obeyed. Severus was right, it was too late to delay the inevitable.
She knelt before the Veil and drew a circle of magical herbs: sage, rosemary, and wormwood. Candles flared on all four sides of her, dust flew up, and Hermione couldn't help but chuckle, so much for the big bad Head Auror. She rather resembled a forest witch from her childhood fairytales right now. It was hard to believe that with such developed magic, she still needed to collect herbs, and burn candles, only a strand of hair and a bat wing were missing. However, she would also need these ingredients soon.
The flames flared up brighter, and the wind howled in the room from nowhere, throwing the curtain of the Veil to the ceiling, Hermione slashed her dagger across her palm and squeezed the blood into the ritual cup, mixed it with herbs, and warmed the alms over the candle flame.
"Debita Colligo!" Hermione yelled into the darkness that suddenly fell over the room, and rising from her knees, she took a determined step toward the Veil. The mirror surface reflected a determined woman, ready to move the planet itself off its axis, and swap the sky and the earth, her burning gaze was terrifying. Severus had never seen his wife like this before, she was desperate, determined, and stubbornly believed in something that mattered to her.
Hermione walked close to the Veil and peered into what the Looking Glass showed her. Herself, young Severus, the laughing Potters, Sirius on a motorcycle, Alice and Frank in Aurors robes, little Harry and Neville, the Time-Turner broken in two halves, the house on fire, Snape on his knees, the sky torn apart by the Mark of Death. Winters waiting for Christmas, autumn smelling of leaves and mulled wine, spring that she never saw. She suddenly wanted to go there, wanted to see that life with her own eyes. Snape from his portrait, as if enchanted, tried to examine something in the mirror surface, Hermione understood him as never before.
She poured the contents of the bowl into the Veil and stepped toward her fate.
She didn't remember the transition very well. The world was spinning, her ears were ringing, and then her legs parted, and she collapsed on her face in the mud. In addition, someone almost ran her over with a cart. Shaking herself off and expressing her honest opinion about everything to the world, Hermione at first thought that life had brought her somewhere in the Middle Ages, everything here was incomprehensible, dirty, noisy, and crowded, but, looking around, she realized that she had landed in Knockturn Alley.
"Hey, do you understand anything?" She asked her bag, not caring that she might be heard.
"Welcome to Knockturn Alley of the last century, my dear!" Snape informed her with an air of connoisseurship.
"It feels like you're glad to be here," Hermione grumbled, dusting herself off and making her way forward.
"Of course, I'm glad! You have no idea how many rare ingredients you can buy here!"
"The Potions Master and his hidden talents. Okay, let's say you are right about the ingredients, but what on Earth did I forget here? I expected to be somewhere closer to Hogwarts."
"Look around, who knows, maybe a younger version of me is wandering around here, maybe Lily, perhaps someone else. You're here for a reason, and that's better than falling on Dumbledore's head."
"Without a doubt. I traditionally want to strangle him at any time in history, and I'm not yet ready to meet him face to face. What if…"
But Hermione was not allowed to finish her sentence. Someone called for help, and Auror's reflexes worked faster than common sense. Hermione rushed to the scream, not having time to either impose glamor or come up with a plausible legend for herself.
She meandered through entrances and exits, skirted crowds of not-too-pleasant and obviously dark wizards, and almost got run over by a horse a couple of times. What's wrong with all of them? Britain had long been using cars and the subway! And then, her legs took her to the exit and she ran face-to-face with Lily. Hermione caught her breath. Oh yes, she was beautiful, the one who ruined Severus' life. Red hair burned with fire in the rays of the midday sun, and green eyes looked desperately at the intruder.
"Help, please! Are you an Auror?"
Hermione swore through her teeth: of course, but she had forgotten to change her robes after her drinking bout. She did not mean to court troubles now, but it's too late to retreat.
"What's wrong?"
"Here, my friend is there, and he is very ill. Help! We need to move him to the Infirmary as soon as possible ... " Lily chattered inconsistently, without ceremony grabbing Hermione by the arm and leading her somewhere into the darkness.
"Hey, husband, what's going on?"
"I have no idea…"
Hermione reached the spot where Lily was so confidently dragging her, and exhaled through clenched teeth: in front of her lay Regulus, which was a continuous bloody mess. In addition, he was clutching the Horcrux so familiar to Hermione, and dark magic radiated from him in all directions.
"Regulus Black..."
"Yes Yes! It's him! Do you know him? Although, of course, who doesn't know the Blacks? We need to go to the hospital!"
"No! Stop! Don't touch him! It is forbidden! Here is a Dark Artifact. We need someone…" Hermione was still frantically thinking about how to lie more convincingly, and Lily had already pulled out her wand and conjured a Patronus.
"We need a Dark Arts expert. Bring Severus here!" She said to her doe and flopped down on her knees in front of Regulus. "Reggie, can you hear me?"
Hermione scratched her head and stared after the melted Patronus: what the hell was going on here?