Song: Walking Towards Fate, by Secession Studios
If there is a meaning in life at all, then there must be a meaning in suffering. Suffering is an ineradicable part of life, even as fate and death. Without suffering and death human life cannot be complete.
Viktor E. Frankl
Stark Tower, Hermione's room.
She was repacking the few things she had taken out of her bag, thinking. Hermione was curious as to why they had to leave so suddenly. And leave Tony behind. Had something happened? They were fine when Tony lit up the Tower.
Her hand snatched the last t-shirt from the bed, carefully shoving it inside her bag. As she made sure everything was laid perfectly inside, her hands came in contact with the round shapes of the beads of her old beaded bag.
Her hands stilled for a moment, not sure what to do exactly. Then, as if her hands had a mind of its own, they pulled the item out.
It was worn out, some of the beads missing and others about to fall off. The color was also fading.
Seating at the edge of the bed, Hermione regarded the small bag in her hands. It had been so long ago, and yet, so recent. Not even a year had passed yet, not enough time to forget, to heal.
Opening the bag and taking a peek inside, at first, there were only small, simple things. Things that would normally fit in a bag so small, like a compact mirror, muggle currency, and a broken brush. She let a small smile curve upward the corner of her lips. At that time she had been so proud of her spellwork, she still was, really, but now it felt so… she couldn't even identify how it felt.
Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Lifting her hand, she slowly slipped her hand inside the bag up to her elbow. Letting go of the air but never opening her eyes, she felt around the insides of her bag for the first time since the Battle of Hogwarts.
A sound, something between a sob and a laugh, escaped from her lips, shaking her body as her hand brushed against clothing, vials, books, the sharp teeth of a fork and so many other things she thought they would need to survive.
As she dug, she came to a strange wooden piece, with intricate designs and then a canvas.
"Oh gods…" she pulled it out, coming face to face with the empty portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black.
Hermione stared at it, mouth agape, as her eyes filled with tears and then hysterical laughter shook her body. Clutching the portrait with a deadly grip, Hermione was about to scream in pure hysterics.
"What in the devil's name, girl!" The voice exclaimed, making Hermione startle, her laugh coming short, and her breathing strangled. "Finally you remember I've been in that Merlin-forsaken bag of yours!" Phineas yelled, ignoring her puffy face and sudden problem with air. "Where are we?"
Hermione gaped, not processing what was happening.
"Well?" He insisted, taking a look at her, "You look like shite."
She started laughing again and didn't even realize the man in the painting left, muttering to himself.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Headmistress Office.
"The girl has gone bonkers." The late Headmaster Black stated, distracting the woman sitting at a large desk reading over papers.
The current Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, lifted a brow and turned in her chair to stare down at the portrait, her hands leaving the school's documents lying on the desk to clasp her hands in her lap.
"The girl?" She asked, giving Albus a fleeting glance.
"That Granger girl. Bonkers, I tell you." Phineas nodded.
"And you know this because…"
"The chit still has my other portrait! Insufferable girl. Snape was right about that one!"
The aforementioned scoffed from his portrait, crossing his arms and glaring at the other painting.
"Is she alright?" Minerva asked, leaning forward on her seat.
"Merlin, woman, are you listening to me? The girl is a mess right now." Minerva frowned and was about to open her mouth to ask more when Severus beat her to it.
"She's coping poorly, I gather." He drawled, dropping his glare from the late Headmaster to his fingernails. "She will pull through though, that woman has gone through enough just to break now. Leave her be."
"Severus?" Minerva asked, curious and confused by the man's defense.
Albus, she noticed, had a sad glint in his painted eyes as he eyed the Potion's Master.
"Let her be, Minerva. Severus is right, Miss Granger is a strong, capable woman. She will pull through." Dumbledore said softly.
She wasn't going to argue further, but she would be damned if she at least didn't let the girl know she wasn't alone.
Inside the Quinjet.
Steve Rogers was sitting down with a tablet. The device was intriguing, and at first, it was difficult for him to understand how to use it, but he managed. Now, he watched the footage of the Hulk's attack on the Army at Culver University.
Guilt, anger, and sadness filled him as he saw the video play next to a photograph of Dr. Banner. The man looked so normal. He probably had a good life, even if he was immersed in his job. The job about figuring out the formula that made him Captain America seventy years ago. Such a waste of a normal life.
One of the pilots spoke, tearing him away from his depressive thoughts, "We're about forty minutes out from the base, sir."
One of the agents, Coulson, Steve thought to himself, walked over to him. A giddy kind of excitement showing in the way his hands twitched, as if trying to reach for something.
Before the man could ask him for anything, Steve said, "So, this Doctor Banner was trying to replicate the serum that was used on me?"
"A lot of people were." Coulson nodded, looking at the tablet in his hands, "You were the world's first superhero. Banner thought gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine's original formula." As if to demonstrate how wrong the doc was, the Hulk roared with fury, slamming a jeep apart.
Steve frowned, pursing his lips. "Didn't really go his way, did it?" He muttered, anger and disappointment coloring his tone.
Coulson sighed, pointing at the Hulk and then at the photo next to the video, he replied, "Not so much. When he's not that thing though, the guy's like a Stephen Hawking." Steve frowns, looking confused as his mind tries to recall any Hawkings guy, only to realize it might be someone from before he crashed onto the ice. Coulson winced, noticing his mistake, and began talking again to cover up, "He's like a smart person." Finally, the man seemed to grow a bone and smiled apologetically, "I gotta say, it's an honor to meet you, officially."
Steve smiled uncomfortably, he wasn't used to it back in the war, and he was even less comfortable now, "I sort of met you, I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping." He looks down at that, well, isn't that lovely, and stands up, leaving the tablet on his seat and walking to the side with Coulson following. Can't he leave me alone for a moment? "I mean, I was... I was present while you were unconscious from the ice. You know, it's really, it's just a... just a huge honor to have you on board."
"Well," he replies tightly, "I hope I'm the man for the job."
"Oh, you are. Absolutely." And then, as if remembering something, he looked away, "Uh... we've… we have made some modifications to the uniform. I had a little design input."
That made Steve turn around to look at the man with confusion in his eyes, "The uniform? Aren't the stars and stripes a little... old fashioned?" He cringed at his choice of words. God, he had hoped the uniform was officially gone forever.
For the first time since he started talking, Coulson looked every bit the SHIELD Agent that he was. "With everything that's happening, the things that are about to come to light, people might just need a little old-fashioned."
Stark Tower, penthouse.
"Tony?" The man in question startled, whirling around to face the young woman with round eyes as his hands frantically tried to close the files Coulson had left him.
It was too late and he knew it.
Hermione was frowning at the images behind him, and he could see her mind working as she put two and two together.
"Hermione!" He exclaimed to distract her. It worked, and Jarvis closed the files. "I thought you and Pepper were about to leave?" He asked, smiling and bringing an arm around her shoulders to guide her out.
Hermione was having none of it though, and maneuvered from under his arm and around him to walk toward the set of keyboards.
"What is this?" She asked, typing at the lone file set apart on a small screen. Suddenly, everything Coulson had handed him came back up for her eyes to see. He glared at the ceiling, wondering why Jarvis hadn't locked the file away or at least hidden it better. "Is this why we have to leave?"
Her eyes were drawn to a man with a spear, with long black hair and mischievous, cruel eyes. She was pretty sure she had seen someone like that before, but couldn't place him. And then, her eyes traveled to the side, to a bright blue cube that she instinctively knew was dangerous to play with.
"It's nothing, really. Nothing for you to worry about." Tony replied, but Hermione wasn't listening anymore.
Her magic went highwire, making her take a few steps back away from the image. It was a strange, confusing feeling. It was like the cube allured her closer, but her magic pushed her away.
Tony watched her, worried, "Hermione?"
Her mouth opened like she was about to say something, but the sounds refused to form.
Walking closer, Tony worriedly turned her away from the screens even as her eyes were glued to it. He shook her out of her stupor, also noticing she was getting cold "Hermione! Are you alright?"
She shook her head, clearing her mind, and looked up at him. "That thing is dangerous." She repeated her thoughts, her magic's warning.
Tony looked over her shoulder at the cube, his eyes narrowing and his lips pursing. He looked down at her again, "It won't hurt you, I promise." She shook her head again, wanting to believe him, but deep down a sinking feeling told her this was going to reach her sooner or later.
Tony hugged her then and repeated his promise. She desperately wanted to believe that.
A Jet to DC, early hours of the morning.
Even though a few hours had passed, Hermione still couldn't shake the feeling that that cube had provoked in her magic.
She was fidgety, nervous, and slightly nauseous, although she didn't know if it was the jet or her magic with the last one.
"Are you alright, Hermione?" Pepper asked, and Hermione was beginning to hate that question. She wasn't, but she couldn't outright say so.
"I'm fine…" she replied anyway, and looked out the round window.
Pepper kept quiet, sensing something was going on that was better left alone for now. Better not to push her right now, let her come by herself when she's ready…
It was minutes later, as they were walking towards the limousine, that Hermione quietly asked, "Tony is involved with something dangerous, isn't he?"
Pepper slowed her pace by a second, then resumed her normal speed, recuperating quickly. "He is." There was no point in lying, she would find sooner or later anyway.
"So he sent us away."
Pepper swallowed, putting on a brave front. "Actually, I did that." Hermione looked at her, surprised, and Pepper smiled sadly. "I can't stop him from going, but I can make sure he is level-headed enough to survive, and he won't be if he's worried about us getting caught up in it."
Hermione nodded, processing the other woman's words.
It was so foreign for her. She always followed Harry into whatever danger he found himself in. But then again, Hermione could fight back. Pepper couldn't. Not like she could. Not even like Tony could. And that was incredibly unfair.
"I'm sorry, Pepper." The blond woman smiled, looping an arm around Hermione's shoulders, it was getting a bit cold outside, to hug her close to her side and share some warmth and comfort.
"It will be alright." She vowed.
Stark Residence, hours later.
It had been a nightmare of a flight. And a nightmare trying to get some sleep, so Hermione had lay awake for hours until her body ached and the need to pee was strong enough.
All that time in bed had her thinking. About Tony, about that cube, about warnings, and, ultimately, about her years at Hogwarts.
She had seen so many horrors. Things she wished she could forget. If only she wasn't so scared of memory charms now. So disgusted.
Turning to her side, she thought about Professor Snape, and his warning when he taught them about werewolves. She thought about Professor Dumbledore's warning that first day of school about not going into the Forbidden Forest. And all the other warnings she had received and that she had somehow ignored, resulting in danger and trouble.
There's nothing to it now, the past is past…
That wasn't going to bring anyone back though.
Turning to her other side, her eyes landed on her bag on the floor. Remembering she still had the beaded bag inside, she pulled her wand from under her pillow and accio-ed the small bag to her hand. Hermione slipped her arm inside again and pulled the first thing her fingers brushed.
One of Harry's T-shirts.
She stiffed it, pulling a face at the bad smell. She let out a bark of laughter. Slipping back her arm and letting the t-shirt fall to the floor, Hermione pulled another item, this time a book.
The Book.
That damned children's book Dumbledore had left her in his will.
Her eyes filled with tears. Turning to her back, Hermione let the book rest on her chest as she cleaned the unshed tears from her eyes with the back of her hands. A sob slipped through her lips. More tears gathered. She could feel her magic begin to swirl inside her chest with her emotions, so she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself enough to open the book.
She cried the whole time it took her to read the book front to back. It wasn't that large of a book, but still. The words blurred, the sounds of her choked sobs distracting, and Dumbledore's notes on the sides...
In the end, she couldn't recall a single word. Only the empty feeling that choked her, and the burning, salty feeling of her tears in her eyes.
Why did all of them die? All that running, all that hiding, all that fighting. Rationally, she knew people died in wars. But this… this feeling, this hole left inside of her. It wasn't just the war. It wasn't just her parents either, even though the thought of them did send her into a new deep pit in hell. No. Or at least, she didn't feel like it.
The tears dried, or maybe they kept falling, she didn't know. She only stared ahead, her eyes not really fixating on anything. She was deep inside her mind, holding everything in. Frost covered the garden of her mind. The roses, the vegetables, the low fence… it was slowly covered with a frosty white layer of snow and ice that kept them there... alive, frozen in time, but unable to live.
It felt somehow like her own life.
Hermione snorted, but it was muted and not really strong, she was incredibly dramatic, and probably pathetic. She felt strangely detached, frozen from the inside, and idly wondered if her occlumency was manifesting from her mind to her body, freezing her from the inside.
The temperature of her room lowered, although she couldn't register it, and soon later, the whole residence cooled, following her magic's unconscious command.
Later in the morning, Hermione sat in the living room, her Technomancy book lying open in her lap as she watched the sun over the grand windows. It was the book she was supposed to give to Tony but never got the chance to.
According to her book, she would need some knowledge of Alchemy and Magical Theory, along with Arithmancy. So, in all Hermione fashion, she got up to purchase more books. Luckily, she had exchanged some of her money for draggots.
She dressed in a pretty blue sundress, sandals, and a large sunhat. It was only ten in the morning.
Pepper was away on business and Happy was off doing who knew what. She was all on her own.
Minutes later found her walking the streets of New York, trying to find an alley dark enough to apparate straight into Diamond District.
As she walked she thought about the things she had seen on those blasted screens. The people in there were… different. Human, but not quite so. They were… more. Muggles playing with things they shouldn't. A little voice in the back of her mind said.
Memories of Voldemort's face flashed through her eyes, making her breathing quicken and her steps stumble. Hermione stopped walking, letting the people walk around her like the river that finds a high rock on the way, not even glancing her way, minding their own business.
She looked up, holding her hat with a hand against the top of her head as she exhaled.
Hermione resumed her walk, finding a place to disapparate, she vanished with a soft pop.
Now in the district, she felt compelled to honor her promise and buy the little Thunderbird that had followed her around when she had bought Howl. The seller was nice and genuinely surprised she had kept her word.
The bird was apparently a girl, so Hermione named her Athena, who found a home amongst her riotous hair and sometimes peeked out from different sides to chirp at her ears.
Alright, next step, the bookstore.
Passing stores, she window-shopped. There was a potions kit that looked nice, a set of robes in a pretty blue that probably complimented her skin tone nicely, a bakery that smelled delicious, another dress shop that looked very in tune with Muggle fashion, a house-elf selling papers, a man doing tricks for young children, a florist shop with ever blooming flowers and other kinds she had never seen before, most definitely magical.
Diamond District was a lot like Diagon Alley, but different. More modern, in a way. She ached to explore it all, and not leave a street without walking.
As she closed in on the bookstore, Hermione thought that Harry would probably like it. Even George, who she knew was looking for a place to open another store, would find it refreshing and extremely interesting to set his next playground here.
Thinking of George made her remember Fred.
Sweet Merlin... Why do I keep doing this to myself?
Closing her eyes she inhaled, when she exhaled, a faint mist of frost disappeared before her face. She was calm now.
The bell above her head at the front door signaled her arrival.
"Hello?" She called, walking in and searching for the Magical Theory section.
"Coming!" Vanessa yelled back from somewhere upstairs and Hermione glanced up briefly, only to look down again in search of her books.
She heard footsteps behind her a minute or two later, and thinking it was Vanessa she was about to ask where the Alchemy books were when a male's voice asked.
"Is there anything I can help you with, Miss Granger?" She turned around so fast, wand in hand, that she collided with the bookshelves behind her, trying to get more distance between herself and the other man. The force made Athena shoot from her hair and fly in a circle around her, and then stop to face him.
Mr. Yorker stared at her with amusement, his eyes dancing from her to Athena, and the ghost of a smirk at the corner of his lips.
She glared at him, her face going warm in embarrassment.
"I'm terribly sorry if I scared you, Miss, old habits die hard. I was in the special forces back in the day. Can't help being silent most days."
She nodded, "Alright…" She lifted a hand, coaxing Athena to perch on her fingers, and bringing her to her shoulder. "What are you doing here, Mr. Yorker?" Hermione asked, trying to be polite and going back to her perusal of spines.
"Why, I'm here because of a book, of course." He replied cryptically. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him for a second before figuring it wasn't her business.
Thundering footfalls echoed from above as Vanessa came down the stairs.
"Hello! Is there an–oh! Mr. Yorker, I wasn't expecting you until later." Her eyes then found her and she smiled, "Miss Granger, so nice to see you again." She was a bit confused, Hermione could tell, at seeing them apparently together. "Is there anything I can help you find?" She asked, finishing her earlier question.
Hermione took the lead, "Yes, I need some Alchemy and Magical Theory texts."
"Right this way" Vanessa nodded, leading the way.
Hermione still couldn't understand the layout of the store, the sections seemed to be haphazardly placed, the shelves not following a pattern she could discern.
It was a labyrinth of knowledge she could lose herself in.
Mr. Yorker followed them, which kind of made the experience a little awkward.
"Here we are. Magical Theory. Is there an author or particular edition you would like?" Vanessa asked, eyeing the spines with a critical eye. "Are you working on something specific or is it just to freshen up?"
Hermione glanced behind her through the corner of her eye, "Working on something. I need the theory behind time turners, broomsticks, radios, and the like."
Vanessa nodded, thinking it over and, Hermione supposed, going through a mental list of names that could be useful.
"Tricky subject," she replied while walking along the shelf and pulling out a book, "The art of giving magic to a mechanism, or rather, creating a functional mechanism using inanimate objects."
"Something like that…" she answered, eyeing the cover of a book the other woman passed to her.
They went like that for a few minutes. All the while Mr. Yorker followed, like a shadow, the progress they made through the shop.
Hermione excused herself, asking if there was a bathroom somewhere, and Vanessa pointed to the employee's bathroom at the back.
She passed beside the glowing book from before, and stopped to stare at it, her body hidden from the others' view. There was something different about it this time. The book lay open, for one.
Her heart started to beat faster, her magic reacting to something she couldn't see yet. Recognizing, reaching out. She felt lured, pulled towards it like a moth to a flame, even though she resisted. Hermione remembered. She remembered Ginny, telling her with vacant eyes how she had felt she couldn't let the diary go, how difficult it was to get rid of it, and how easily she had taken it back. She remembered the awful feeling of wearing the necklace. Remembered the whispers of the diadem to put it on.
All of them had carried the feeling of death. It clung to them like a putrid disease. Even death had been corrupted by Tom Riddle.
This felt different, but dangerous still. Ominous, old.
Her feet moved.
Only when she reached the book and peered down at the page she realized why her magic was pulling her to it.
She was there.
And suddenly, like in a portkey, she was pulled inside a vortex with the book.
Underground Lab.
Several soldiers under the Asgardian Prince's mind control were running around, preparing to infiltrate wherever he had planned. Loki sat down, watching Selvig work with a CMS device before closing his eyes, meditating.
Suddenly, the scepter materialized him back into the throne room of the Other, fully armed in his horned helmet and armor. The other materialized from the steps, walking towards him at a leisure pace.
"The Chitauri grow restless." Said the Other with accusation, but somehow managing to seem bored.
The Prince waves at him away, smiling mischievously, "Let them go at themselves. I will lead them into glorious battle." He replied, his tone one of complete arrogance and confidence.
The Other sneered, leaning back with a threat in his eyes. "Battle? Against the meager might of Earth?"
"Glorious, not lengthy." Loki shrugged his shoulders with indifference. "If your force is as formidable as you claim."
The Other bristled, hissing, "You question us? You question him?" Leaning back, he narrowed his eyes at the other man, "He who put the scepter in your hand, who gave you ancient knowledge and new purpose when you were cast out, defeated?"
It was Loki's turn to bristle, his eyes glowing with sudden rage as he screamed, "I was a king! The rightful king of Asgard! Betrayed!"
The Other chuckled darkly, then turned around, not deeming the raging prince dangerous enough, "Your ambition is little, born of childish need." He mocked, Loki sneered behind his back, "We look beyond the Earth to greater worlds the Tesseract will unveil."
"You don't have the Tesseract yet." Loki reminded him, The Other turned, running over to attack him, but stopped as Loki pointed his scepter at his chest in warning, "I don't threaten, but until I open the doors, until your force is mine to command, you are but words."
The Other straightened, looking down at him with contempt, after a moment, he turned and walked away, "You will have your war, Asgardian. If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he can't find you." He chuckled then, turning slightly so only the side of his face was shown, "You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain." It was the last thing Loki heard, as he was transported back to the lab.
Somewhere.
Hermione gasped, opening her eyes and sitting upright… or bent forward? She was floating, suspended, but couldn't say if she was up, down, or sideways. All around her was dark, although strangely luminescent, with little spots that looked like stars but couldn't be.
Where am I? Gulping, she blanched, space? How am i breathing? What happened?
Then, right before her eyes, materialized seven stones of different colors, one twice as big than the others.
Her magic tingled, her skin electrified and her hair crackled with something akin to static. It was power. Not simple magic. Power. Raw and strong, all of it contained in these small, seemingly innocuous-looking stones.
She took a step back like there was actual ground under her feet. It felt wrong to be this close to this kind of power.
"You have been chosen," said a voice, or thousands of voices all rolled into one. It came from everywhere, and also from nowhere. She took another step back, "When the time is right, for you to hold them all in your hand, nothing shall befall upon you to fix the past."
The stones began to approach her, lining up in a column before her, coming then behind her, she felt panic rise with her at the sudden immobility of her body, like a bodybind had been cast on her. She felt the stones close to her skin, her flesh rising in goosebumps, the feeling of crawling insects dancing under her skin at the raw power was torture, and then, finally, the stones touched her, and she screamed.
Sorry about being so late!