A/N: Hey guys. Thank you so much for your reviews and patience. I have been quite busy these past few months and had a slight case of "writer's block"….but now it's all good. Thank you to my Beta and my cousin, Chris, who kindly put up with my questions and rants about this story.
Warning: this chapter contains graphic torture scenes. You have been warned.
Chapter Nine
The smile that graced Hermione's lips seemed to bounce off walls as she slept soundly after that moment she'd spent with Harry, and continued to annoy her roommates throughout the week. The slight glow of his eyes as he looked at her was enough to send her thoughts into overdrive.
Even the sounds of her roommates' daily squabbles weren't enough to squelch her smile as she awoke on the day of Harry's quidditch match against Hufflepuff. Picking up her small blue bag of toiletries she headed over to the shared bathroom and was pleased to find she had it all to herself. It was a small room with a row of three silver bowl basins to her left and a vertical row of six showers alcoves to her right.
She placed her set of blue pyjamas and her most treasured item---the pendant that Dumbledore had given to her last week----outside the shower cubicle so they wouldn't get wet, before stepping in.
Allowing herself ten minuets she washed her body and hair (careful to not get it too tangled) before switching off the shower and losing herself in her fluffy red bathrobe. It was then, as she stepped out of the shower she noticed something she had never seen before.
It was a door.
Not just any ordinary door. No, this door's panel was a dark mahogany with a long golden handle shaped like a bird's wing.
It was strange, Hermione pondered as she walked towards it; during her three years at Hogwarts she never noticed this door before, and in her bathroom of all things. She approached the door with caution.
The golden doorhandle, shaped like a bird's wing was cold to touch. She hesitated before opening the door to find a damp corridor. The walls were made of stone and thick with green grime that was slimy to touch. Candles lit the way above her, like tiny fireflies circling above it lit the sandstone pavement with thick tree roots poking through, casing large and narrow cracks in its wake, like thick spider webs. Wondering whether or not she should walk inside, a slight glimpse of forestry at the end caught her eye.
It may be a hidden entrance to the forbidden forest--- or Hagrid's hut? Hermione thought.
Cursing her friends Ron and Harry for their rebellious influence on her, she headed down the walk way, the touch of the sandy pavement against her feet scratched slightly as she headed further inside.
The cold crisp winter snow burned the soles of her feet. She almost gasped as she stepped outside the entrance. Instead of the autumn colours and rich smell of greenery she found herself alone in a snow field outside a forest she had never seen. With the added gust of wind, sweeping through her robes and wet tangled hair, she could smell the pungent aroma of a fresh kill nearby.
Hugging her robe to her stomach Hermione walked through, knee deep in snow and tried to ignore the numbness of her small body, and the loud chattering of her teeth.
Except…………..
The expected numbness and chattering one would get naked in snow she felt nothing. She could hear the loud roar of the wind gusting through the billowing forest, arching the branches back in its wake. She could see the wind sift through her red robes and thick damp hair, causing it to stick to her forehead it matted clumps. Droplets of snow beaded off her cheeks, forehead and button nose and yet she felt nothing, no burning sensation as the crisp snowflakes melted and trickled down her skin. No race of heartbeat as her body slowly succumbed to the cold. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.
"What is this place?" Hermione whispered to herself, she could see the puffs of frozen air dissipate before her eyes.
As she turned her body around she discovered that the small cave entrance she entered from was no where to be seen. Just endless rolls of white, cold and menacing, with speckles of dark grass.
Then she saw a small body lying up ahead, she gasped.
Someone is here!
Forgetting herself Hermione ran through the thick wad of snow, kicking up white waves in her wake, she hobbled towards the small body a few feet from her and outside an entrance to a forest of giant pine trees. As she headed closer to the body in question she saw the outlines of a young female, probably seventeen or eighteen, judging by the obvious swell of breasts and hips.
The girl was clad in a pink zip up jumper and dark blue jeans. Her long thick curls covered her face that titled to one side.
It was then Hermione realised that the body wasn't moving.
Was she like me? Hermione felt the first traces of panic. Did she stumble into this room and couldn't find the way out?
She could feel hot bile settling in her throat at the scene of a dead woman by a forest, all alone and smelling of mould and dried blood.
Pulling her robe closer to her body, Hermione hovered over the girl and saw that her wand was still grasped in her hand. Hermione also noticed that the woman's clothes were speckled with dried blood, her blood, Hermione gulped. The wand seemed familiar, the colour of oak tugged at her senses before she realised that the wand belonged to her friend, Ronald Weasley.
How could this girl be in possession of Ron's wand? Hermione asked herself. Did he lose it or did this woman take it by mistake?
The wind picked up, causing the woman's preternatural hair to shift from her face and reveal her pale and blood splattered face.
It was her.
Hermione's mouth remained open as she stared at herself. There was no mistaking it. She saw her own face caked in blood and earth. She had the same high cheek bones and her eyes, now blood shot and cloudy white, stared frozen at the sky.
Suddenly, the eyes moved and Hermione had no time to think before she felt the hard shove and sharp hiss as Ron's wand was shoved into her heart by older herself.
Pain. There was no way to describe it. An Infamous amount of pain swept through her like waves, as her older self pushed the wand further in before pushing her onto the cold earth with a hard thud. She could feel everything. The coldness swept through as her robe soaked up her blood and ice. Her robe fell open but Hermione couldn't move as the image of a wand protruding from her chest nailed her to the ground.
The slight movement of her chest caused it to move and send splinters into her broken flesh. Biting her lower lip she screamed and looked up as the older woman towered over her. Not saying anything but her unfazed blood shot eyes looked through her. Hermione watched in horror as her older self very slowly and deliberately raised her fisted right hand above her chest before punching through. The loud crack of her rib cage shattering was too much for her to scream but she could hear herself screaming as she felt her older self wrap her cold hand around her heart and squeeze.
Nothing in the entire universe could come close to describe the pain Hermione felt. It felt like someone was sucking her insides out as she breathed. She begged for it to stop. She couldn't handle the sound of her bones breaking, the harsh sound of her blood gurgling around her ears and filling every orifice before entering her lungs and choking her.
Somehow, Hermione managed to open her eyes and found herself gently wrapped up in Harry's trembling embrace, gazing through his horn-rimmed glasses with tears in his eyes. He looked different than the normal, slightly unhealthy pinched, bispeckled boy she went to school with. This one seemed much older, with longer untidy dark hair and blazing green eyes brimmed with tears. He was crying, tears dribbling down his trembling cheeks. Two strong arms encased her cold and withering body and yet the sight of him was enough for Hermione to feel safe.
"I'm here Mione," He whispered, his warm hand touched her feverish skin and Hermione felt his love spread through her breaking body. Except it felt like it wasn't her feelings but rather her older self's.
I love him!
No, Hermione thought. She loved him or …they did Hermione realised as she and her older self became one. They could feel the words in their mouth but the blood that kept gurgling through their body, causing their body to fit, to jerk and quiver right and left --they tried in vain to show their love through their eyes.
Hermione was feeling what her older self was feeling and she could feel the walls closing in. Somehow, she knew what the other was experiencing. This is how she died, Hermione suddenly knew. This is how my older self died. How I would've died?
"Harry," The words sounded harsh as one, long, blood curdling scream escaped their lips Harry heard every spine-splitting overtone. He sobbed and nodded. Their eyes never leaving him as their body continued to thrust and wither as they coughed up more blood.
I love you!! They tried saying but they were swept up by death before they could utter a single syllable.
Darkness….
A small trickle of silver wrapped around her neck and Hermione felt lighter. She could feel her older self leaving her body, the cold hand, unwilling, wrenched from her soul. …..
Hermione gasped. Eyes half open she hunched over and retched. Not caring on how she ended up in bed, clothed, or who placed a small basin in front of her, or how a warm rag was rubbing her forehead. She was just grateful. The soothing hand movements on her back helped as she continued to vomit into the basin. The vomiting never stopped as her head continued spinning. She wished it would stop.
"Stop," she spluttered out, shaking her head in vain but the warm rag on her forehead was pressed harder. She sighed in thanks as the hand on her back continued to soothe her.
It was a small kiss on her forehead that caused her to look behind her to find Harry. His right hand holding a rag on her forehead while the other made slow circles around her shoulder blades.
She felt uneasy but the warm presence of his body calmed her.
Madame Pomfrey, who was the person holding the basin, took it away and started to speak with Professor Dumbledore but she couldn't hear them. They were too far away.
"Wha….happened…."She breathed. She found herself in a loose hospital gown and the silver pendant draped around her neck, nestled in between her small breasts. Hermione grimaced at herself. Nothing compared to the obvious swell her older self had.
Had. Past tense. Hermione reassured herself. Her past self died and somehow Hermione experienced only half of the gruesome death she had, or would've had, as Harry held her in his arms.
Did this happen? Hermione peaked at his worried expression…Was that why he came back? Did I---she really die like that?
What just happened? Hermione looked around. Dumbledore was still speaking with
Madame Pomfrey but she caught his occasional glance in her direction as he spoke.
Did something happen? Her hand groped across her chest and was thankful to find no scar from Ron's wand.
Ron's wand. Hermione's eyes widened. That's a good question. Why did her older self, Mione, Hermione corrected. Her older self preferred that name. Why did Mione carry Ron's wand and why did she use it to…
To kill me
She shook her head. Why did my older self…or Mione… want to…kill me? Did Mione realise this? How did I end up in that forest one moment and here in hospital the next
Nothing made sense and yet she was afraid to voice it. She didn't want to see the look in Harry's eyes when she mentioned her older self's death. Or Mione, Hermione thought. She felt, or rather, they thought that name was special as that was the name Harry coined and he spoke it was such reverence that they had hoped to express their feelings.
Mione was in love with him.
Love wasn't the word to describe it. The feeling burned inside of her, it oozed out of every pore and made her feel sick. Such a strong force could cause one to cry and sigh out of relief at the same time. It was that kind of feeling that you experience rarely and when you do you have no words, no experiences or no pop culture reference, to coin a muggle phrase, to compare it to. Mione's feelings was more than that word her classmate bandied about describing their latest infatuations, more than she had read about in any poem or romantic novel. What Mione felt transcended love
Hermione was unsure about her feelings. She didn't want to dwell on them but she couldn't deny the butterflies she felt when Harry gazed at her. Especially the way his green eyes flicker like tiny green flames when he looked at her.
Mione was in love with him and never got the chance to say those words. Hermione felt sorry for her.
Maybe Mione somehow… came across time and wanted to warn me? No, Hermione reasoned. Too far fetched and impossible and let's not forget that Mione tried to kill me.
"Hermione," Harry whispered. He dropped the rag on the bed and his right hand slid down and wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. She stopped thinking and instead, focused on the heat of his hand seeping into her hips.
His head rest against her shoulder and shuddered. He whispered, his voice breaking mid sentence, "Please, don't sc--are me like that…"
Stung by his words, Hermione was at a lost for words. Tuned out by his breathing above her ear she pondered for a moment." What---------…."she paused as buzzing pain fluttered across her brow, she cringed."------happened?"
"You," he gulped, she could feel his arms quiver, "... slipped in the shower or something." Harry began. "Lavender found you sprawled in the shower, twitching and shivering. Madame Pomfrey brought you inside. You…"
"Who placed this necklace around my neck?" Hermione interrupted, she picked up the pendant and looked at it closely; the silver exoskeleton slightly nerved her, giving her a sickening sense of déjà vu.
"Oh…um…"Harry blushed, she could feel his warm breath tickle her neck. "I did…it looked nice…I thought that…who gave it to you…" he breathed out.
She smiled, blushing, she sunk into his embrace.
"Dumbledore told me that a batch of potions from Snape's lab leaked into the central ventilation system, leading to the girls' bathroom. It's called Mist's vapour and causes violent hallucinations."
She opened her mouth to reply when the door opened.
"BLIMEY!" It sounded more like a burp than a yell but the sight of Ron with fuzzy red hair and a shocked expression, for some reason, didn't sit well with her. Mione doesn't like Ron and at this moment Hermione didn't either. Harry pulled away from her, stood up and went to greet Ron.
"Close your mouth Ron," Harry snapped, blowing his messy fringe from his eyes "she's just woken up and I don't think she wants to smell your lunch,"
Hermione seemed taken aback by the roughness of his voice but then she realised what he said.
"Half a day?" she squeaked. Oh no, she had a test on ancient runes---- and let's not forget Miss Hopkins essay on the truth behind old wives' tales. Hermione felt her pale hands touch her face. A deep and swooning dizzy spell swept through her body. She felt heavy and her skin seemed to vibrate all over.
Her eyes closed. Eventually, the sea-sick feeling in her stomach became placid and calm.
Some time later, an hour, or maybe three hours, Hermione woke up to see the sun had set and thick white candles decorated the walls. Floating an inch from the stone-wash décor she saw its light project an image of a large scruffy-looking dog.
Rubbing her eyes, Hermione used all her strength to lean over the hospital bed, the white blankets bunched over in thick rolls, she saw the medium-sized black dog look at her with beady eyes and for a second she thought she saw a flicker of copper in them.
Then, the image of a dog moved, shifted. She could hear bones creaking as they expanded and morphed into different shapes. She looked away but couldn't block out the body-snapping sounds of bones breaking, sinew forming and skin ripping like crimpled cellophane.
"You can look now, Hermione," a hoarse voice beckoned and she found herself removing her arm to see a tall man with straggling dark curls and soil-ridden shirt and pants. Tattoos peaked underneath the many holes and gaps in his shirt. She didn't have to read the daily prophet to know who this man was.
"Sirius Black," she breathed.
Sirius smirked; he walked to the edge of her bed. Immediately, Hermione pulled her bed sheets, using them as a shield "You and I need to talk,"
"--- 'bout what?" she peaked from the hem of blanket.
"Oh…I dunno?" He titled his chin; "How a nineteen year old Harry Potter is stuck inside his thirteen year old self?" he chuckled, shaking his head, "Nothing really important," he crossed his arms. His eyes sparkling with mirth.
She dropped the shield. "How do you----"
"He paid me a visit," he informed her, '"very slytherin of him..." he added distastefully.
She slid back into her pile of hospital pillows. "What did he say..."
He shrugged his shoulders, toeing the floor with his dirt-ridden boot. "Told me the truth…like you and believe me," he huffed, "----after hearing him speak----.I knew he would have told you what happened..." he smiled at her again, like he knew something she didn't. That unnerved her.
She sighed, looking down at her hands, "Well…I kinda figured it out…"
He snorted; she looked up and found him staring out at the ghostlike arch windows, bathed in candle-heated glow. "Figures," he smiled briefly, "Lily always did that…."
She felt herself sighing with him. He seemed lost for a moment and felt compelled to help him in some way. "What are you doing here?"
"Have you lost your short-term memory?" he teased, smirking at her, "We need to talk.."
"Bout what?" She found herself asking for the second time.
Leaning on the window, peering out in the darkness, "There you go again, "Shaking his head," …repeating yourself…"he clicked his tongue, "kids today," he turned and faced her, "I've come to warn you.."
"About what?"
Sirius seemed reluctant to reply before whispering his name "Harry."
"Harry?" she arched her eyebrows in confusion. Why would Harry be a threat?
"He's changed…"
"Changed?" She titled her head to one side.
"He's dangerous Hermione…" he seemed to become agitated with every word, "worse off than some," he was pacing back and forth, "Stay away from him."
She bit her lip to prevent herself screaming as anger flared. "How dare you…"
"Allow me to demonstrate…" He gestured to two beakers on the floor next to her bed; she peered over and figured he swiped them from the medical cabinet.
"Okay, this yellow beaker," he pointed to the half-full yellow glowing beaker, "is …say…the soul of younger Harry," he then added, "the thirteen year old Harry----the one on the right," he pointed at the beaker half full with blue liquid "---- is the soul," he shrugged, "-----or essence of nineteen year old Harry. When Harry went back in time his soul went into his younger self and----,"
Sirius picked up the beaker on the right and poured it into the beaker with yellow liquid. She watched as the water duelled with the other and sloshed onto the floor in large splats. Yellow and blue water gelled, meshed and fused before turning green and making a tiny pool on the floor, "------you see this Hermione?"
She watched until both blue and yellow dissipated and only the rich colour of green remained, like Harry's eyes.
What does this mean?
"No more than one object or essence can exist in the universe, Hermione. When Harry crossed through time there were two Harry's in the year 1993. So, the potion Harry used fixes this problem before time collapses on itself. The younger Harry dies and moulds with the older self to create a new Harry, "he pointed at the beaker filled to the brim with green liquid, "…one with both the old and new parts that we know of," he sighed, "…Harry virtually killed himself to get back through time and for what?" shrugging his shoulders.
"To save us…" Hermione reasoned, eyes still trained on the floor and at the beaker filled to the brim with green water.
"Again…very slytherin of him…" Sirius said.
She snapped, eyes darted upwards "How dare you compare Harry's actions to the house that spawned he-who-must-not-be-named…"
Sirius shook his head at her. "Kids today…don't see the big picture," he turned his attention to the ceiling before looking down at her, "….yes he came back to change things….I understand that but I don't know what he wants to change," He crossed his arms, "…How do you and I know what he wants to change won't cause further damage…" he then added, "Some people are meant to die.."
She watched his face as it slipped back into an emotionless mask, the one she saw Harry wear day to day.
She felt her anger at him subside and realised his intentions. He wasn't angry at him, not really, no…he was afraid for him. "You care about him, don't you?"
He sobered. "Course I do," un-crossing his arms and taking a seat at the edge of her bed. "….despite being locked up I promised James," he stopped, his hands clasped loosely in his lap, "…I promised him and Lily that I'd be a good guardian in the event" he stopped again, looking away as a lone tears slipped down his dirty cheek.
"So big-bookworm in the hospital," he laughed and Hermione knew that despite being abrupt he wanted to change the subject. He looked at her, smiling ruefully like a big brother "How is the recovery going?"
"How did?" She began but he interrupted.
"Please," rolling his eyes, "….James and I know every hall way in this place," he chuckled. "Plus," he added, "…considering you didn't scream when I changed form…you understand that I'm an animagus.."
Hermione didn't want to mention that she wasn't afraid - she was becoming aware that she suddenly knew things subconsciously, like Sirius being an animagus. It was as if a part of her older self that rubbed off on her…
However...
Didn't Harry say that it was Snape's potions that caused this?
And yet…when Harry told her she knew in her heart that it wasn't true. Dumbledore was…."Tell me what happened…" Sirius said.
Hermione clutched the hem of her blanket to distract herself as she spoke. "There was this field….It was covered in snow and there were tall billowing trees. It was so empty"
Sirius patted her shoulder sympathetically, she whispered. "I found someone there…"
"Who?" he asked.
"Me," Hermione felt the weight lift from her shoulders, "it was me and-I--she looked older….she tried to…."she could see it in her eyes. The raised wand of her best friend slamming down into her skin, punching through like cellophane, pain echoed in her soul and she felt tiny fragments of herself burn as her older self continued to pound into her, blood dribbled from the tip of the wand with each bone crunching thwack.
"What?" he asked, shaking her from her reverie, she answered.
"…Kill me," she grimaced. "Dumbledore said that I inhaled some Mist vapour and that causes violent hallucinations." she shook her head and asked out loud, "Why would I hallucinate about my,"tears started to brim her eyes, she could feel the trickle down her flushed cheeks. "….future self killing me and relive her.." Her voice cracked.
"Dumbledore was lying to you…"he interrupted, his hand reached for and grabbed hold of the necklace, its oval pendant resting mid-stomach.
She looked down at the necklace as she wiped her tear-streaked face. He was staring at it in his grasped hand. He seemed frightened.
"What?"
"Cheeky," he responded, he then smiled to himself. "…and very slytherin of him too…didn't think he had it in him,"
'Who?"she asked. Sirius dropped the necklace and watches it swing back and forth, and then slide back in its resting place. Hermione picked it up and hid it underneath her hospital gown.
"That necklace…and…now," he stood up and continued to mutter to himself, "it makes sense…but it asks a lot of questions…"he stopped mid pace, turned his head and looked at her.
"Questions?" she said, looking at him, "What about my necklace..?"
"That necklace," he pointed to the one covered by her gown, "….it's called "altération de l'âme". It was created during the dark ages by a soul-alchemist called Elric Dumbledore."
"Change of soul?" Hermione arched her eyebrows. How can one change one's soul?
"Roughly it translates to a change," He began, " or to alter one's soul." Sirius gestured to the beaker on the floor. "When two of the same thing exists they cancel each other out, or in this case with souls" pointing to the beaker again "…they mould into one…like Harry's. Dumbledore is not that stupid. He knows something is going on and gave you that necklace for your protection."
"What for?"
"Haven't you figured it out yet?" he chuckled. "You've just described one of the many symptoms wizards experience when they encounter their other self…or should I say future self."
"So you're saying that when---" a ghostly image of her older self flashed in her mind. Blood dripping form her open cracked lips, Hermione shuddered. "... that girl…was me?"
"Your older self, the one from nineteen year old Harry's future..." he paused for affect. "yes," Sirius nodded, "and I believe that necklace is masking your essence to prevent your older self from invading your body and killing you…"
**
Questions? Comments? Let me know what you think
Rachel