The stone disintegrated under her touch, its ancient magic fighting back against her spells. She wiped sweat from her brow, leaving a smudge of dust across her forehead. The Great Hall buzzed with activity, students and staff alike working tirelessly to rebuild Hogwarts after the devastation of the final battle.
"Reparo Maxima," Hermione muttered, her wand trembling slightly as she poured her magic into the spell. The stone shimmered, cracks sealing themselves, but the effort left her dizzy. She stumbled back, catching herself on a nearby table.
"You alright there, Hermione?" Neville called out.
"Fine, just... tired." She forced a smile, not wanting to worry him.
Neville nodded. "We all are. But you've been at it non-stop. Maybe take a break?"
Hermione shook her head. "There's so much left to do. I can't just stop."
"You can take a break though," Neville offered with a small smile.
Hermione's head swam as she made her way to the bathroom, her steps unsteady. The cool water on her face helped but exhaustion still clung to her bones. She stared at her reflection, noting the dark circles under her eyes and the pallor of her skin.
"Just a bit longer," she whispered to herself, straightening her robes.
As she exited the bathroom, voices drifted from around the corner. She knew those playful lilts anywhere. Fred and George Weasley, along with Angelina Johnson and Lee Jordan.
"...new shop in Knockturn Alley," Fred was saying, his voice low and excited. "Sells the most potent magic restoration potions you've ever seen."
George chimed in, "Reckon I could use one of those, eh? I feel like a wall fell on me."
Hermione's ears perked up. Magic restoration potions? That could be exactly what they needed to speed up the repairs. Whatsheneeded.
"You can't be serious," Angelina interrupted sharply, "Knockturn Alley? That's a disaster waiting to happen."
"Aw, come on, Angelina," Lee said. "It might be worth checking out."
There was a sudden smack, followed by twin yelps of pain.
"Oi! What was that for?" the twins chorused.
"For being idiots," Angelina retorted. "Buying sketchy potions from Knockturn Alley? That's the stupidest idea I've heard all week."
"But they work!" Fred protested. "A customer told us-"
"Oh, well if a customer told you," Angelina's voice dripped with sarcasm.
Hermione leaned against the wall. She knew she shouldn't trust anything from Knockturn Alley, much less the twins, but if there was even a chance these potions could help...
"Look," George said, his voice serious for once. "We're not saying we should buy the whole stock. But if they really work, it could make a huge difference here."
Hermione bit her lip. Torn between the very logical voice of reason in her head that screamed at her how incredibly stupid this was and the desperate need to see Hogwarts restored. Maybe, just maybe, it was worth investigating.
Hours ticked by, and Hermione's patience dwindled. Each failed spell was another blow, leaving her more exhausted and annoyed than before. She watched as others around her made progress, their sections of the castle slowly coming back to life.
During a brief water break, she found herself mulling over the idea of actually going to the shop. It couldn't hurt just going to check it out right?
"It's probably just a scam," she muttered to herself.
But what if it wasn't? What if there really were potions that could help? The restoration was taking too long, draining her energy, her patience. If there was a way to speed it up, to make her more effective, wasn't it worth it?
Hermione weighed the pros and cons. The risks were obvious – unknown potions from a shady shop could be poisonous, cursed, or simply ineffective. But the potential benefits were worth the risks.
Professor McGonagall was hunched over a group of first-years, her face etched with weariness. Professor Flitwick hovered above the chaos, his magic strong but his body looking strained.
She needed to step up. Hogwartsneededher. She couldn't afford to slack off.
She stood, decision made. It was worth investigating, at least. She was clever enough to spot any obvious traps or scams.
"I'm heading out for a bit," she called to Neville as she passed.
He nodded, too focused on a particularly stubborn gargoyle to question her further.
Hermione's heart raced as she made her way to the apparition point. This was reckless, potentially dangerous and incredibly stupid. But as she looked back at the castle, a skeletal frame of shattered towers and gaping holes, its once proud spires now broken teeth, she knew she had to try.
With a deep breath and a silent prayer that she wasn't making a terrible, stupid mistake, Hermione turned on the spot and disappeared with a crack.
The crack of apparition echoed off the cobblestones as Hermione materialized in Diagon Alley. It was unrecognizable. Once a bustling, magical marketplace, it was now a desolate wasteland. Shopfronts were shattered, their interiors exposed to the elements. Debris littered the cobblestone street, and an eerie silence hung over the once vibrant alley.
Hermione's fingers tightened around her wand. This felt wrong. So very wrong. But she'd come too far to turn back now.
She dodged debris, heading towards the dark entrance of Knockturn Alley. The silence was replaced by whispers and shadows. People in cloaks moved quickly, their faces hidden.
Unlike Diagon Alley, Knockturn teemed with activity. Witches and wizards of all sorts crowded the narrow street, their eyes glinting with suspicion as she passed.
A hunchbacked wizard blocked her path, his breath reeking of firewhiskey. "Lost, pretty thing?"
Hermione's wand was in her hand before she could blink. "I know exactly where I'm going," she lied.
The wizard cackled, revealing blackened teeth. "Course you do, dearie. Course you do."
She pushed past him. This was madness, utter stupidity. How was she supposed to findoneshop in this labyrinth?
But as she rounded a corner, her eyes locked onto a faded sign, half-hidden by creeping vines. The script was nearly illegible, but she could just make out the words: "Eldritch Elixirs."
Hermione blinked. It couldn't be that easy, could it?
She approached cautiously, her wand at the ready. The shop's windows were grimy, obscuring the interior. A pungent odor wafted from beneath the door – a mixture of herbs and something putrid.
What compelled her to open the door after that smell, Hermione didn't know. Though she assumed it was desperation mixed with nights of countless nightmares. Taking a deep breath, Hermione pushed open the door. It creaked ominously, as if warning her to turn back.
The interior was dimly lit, flickering candles casting long shadows across cluttered shelves. Bottles of every shape and size lined the walls, their contents ranging from mundane powders to what looked suspiciously like eyeballs floating in murky liquid.
"Hello?" Hermione called.
A rustling sound came from behind a beaded curtain. "Who seeks my wisdom?" The voice that answered was reedy and ancient, with an unsettling sing-song quality that did little to undo the knot of nerves in Hermione's belly.
Hermione swallowed hard. "I, um, I heard you might have some restoration potions."
A wizened old woman emerged from behind a beaded curtain. Her skin was sickly green, and her eyes, a vacant pale color, bored into Hermione with chilling intensity.
The smell and the creepy eyeballs should have been enough to warn her off. But the hag – that's the only word Hermione could use to describe the woman – should have set all sorts of alarms off in her head. But her desperation was apparently louder.
"Restoration, you say?" The hag's lips curled into what might have been a smile. "Many seek to restore what was lost, child. What is it you hope to mend?"
Hermione hesitated. Revealing her true intentions to this… witch...felt foolish, reckless even. But what choice did she have?
"It's...for myself," Hermione said, hating the tremor in her own voice. "I've been working tirelessly, you see, rebuilding after...well, it doesn't matter. I need something to restore my energy, my magic."
The hag's milky eyes seemed to pierce through Hermione. "Ah, yes," the hag croaked, her voice like dry leaves crackling underfoot. "Toil and exhaustion. A common ailment."
She shuffled closer, and Hermione fought the urge to step back. "But tell me, child, what brings one so...pureto my humble shop?"
"I heard you had the most potent restoration potions," Hermione said. "Is that true?"
The hag cackled, a sound that sent shivers down Hermione's spine. "Truth is a fickle thing in these shadows, dearie. But power? Oh yes, I have power in spades."
She turned, gesturing for Hermione to follow. "Come, come."
She really should go back to Madam Pomfrey and have her head checked out. Maybe she was suffering from a delayed concussion.
Hermione trailed after her, torn between dread and as much as she hated to admit it, fascination. The hag's gnarled fingers danced over bottles and jars.
Hermione's eyes darted from one strange concoction to another, each more unsettling than the last. There were jars filled with writhing, pulsating things that resembled miniature brains, their color a sickly shade of gray-green. Others held what appeared to be glowing, iridescent crystals, suspended in a thick, viscous liquid.
The Hag stopped in front of a shelf, her pale blue eyes glinting with a strange light. She picked up a bottle filled with a liquid that shimmered with an otherworldly glow. It was a deep, rich purple, like the darkest night sky.
"This, my dear, is what you seek. It is a potion of true restoration. Not the kind you find in those stuffy potions shops, oh no. This is the real deal. It taps into the very essence of magic, replenishes it, revitalizes it. The very essence of who we really are."
The vial glowed faintly, its contents shimmering with an otherworldly light. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. It was beautiful, mesmerizing...
And potentially deadly.
Hermione shook herself, forcing her mind to focus. "What exactly is in it? And are there any side effects I should know about?"
The hag's smile widened, revealing teeth that were just a bit too sharp. "Curious little thing, aren't you? The ingredients are... complex. Ancient. Some, perhaps, best left unspoken. "The curly-haired witch leaned in, examining the shimmering liquid more closely. "It's a special brew," the hag continued. "It'll make you feel... renewed. Refreshed. Like you've just woken from the most restful sleep of your life. "Hermione's eyebrows knitted together. "That sounds... nice," she said cautiously. "But what about the side effects? "The hag waved a gnarled hand dismissively. "Oh, nothing to worry your pretty little head about. Just the usual magical precautions, you understand. "Hermione didn't understand, not at all, but she nodded anyway. The exhaustion that had been plaguing her for weeks whispered temptingly in her ear, urging her to take the risk. "However," the hag added, her milky eyes suddenly sharp, "there is one important thing to remember. When you're ready to take the potion, make sure you open it with someone you trust. Someone close to you."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "That's not very reassuring."
"Magic rarely is, child," the hag replied. Hermione frowned. "Why? What happens if I don't?" The hag's lips curled into a secretive smile. "Let's just say the effects can be... unpredictable without a grounding presence nearby. It's powerful magic, dearie. Best not to take chances. "Hermione's mind raced, weighing the potential benefits against the risks. The logical part of her brain screamed that this was a terrible idea, but the part of her that was desperate for relief from the constant exhaustion was all too eager to comply.
Yes, this was a bad idea. No reputable potions master would ever say that about their potions. Yet she wasn't in J. Pippin's Potions, she was in some dingy shop in Knockturn Alley.
Everything she knew about magical theory screamed at her to walk away.
But then she thought of Hogwarts. Of its broken towers and shattered windows. Of the exhausted faces of her friends and teachers as they worked themselves to the bone.
She thought of home.
A home she was going to fix.
"I'll take it," Hermione said, her voice firm. "How much?"
The hag's eyes glittered with triumph. "For you, my dear? A mere trifle. After all, who can put a price on restoration?"
As the hag wrapped the vial in shimmering cloth. Hermione's heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and fear, leaving her hands slightly trembling. She was taking a huge risk, but if it worked... if it truly worked...
Hogwarts might just have a chance.
Her home might have a chance.