Chapter Text
Hermione keeps close to Harry as they follow the Unspeakables into the Death Chamber. Her fingers thread through his as the dais comes into view and he squeezes her hand in gratitude. They stop at the bottom of the platform and wait for the head unspeakable. An ancient wisp of a man soon enters. He says nothing at first, merely surveys them with impossibly intense eyes for someone who seems like a strong wind could blow him away.
“Thank you for coming,” he says at last. “I am called Nyx.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Sir.” Hermione breaks the silence first, offering her hand. He feels like aged papyrus. “I’m Hermione Granger.”
Ron makes a noise behind her, and she feels her cheeks heat. Of course, he knows who they are. He had summoned them here after all. If Nyx found her silly, however, he did not show it. He offered his hand to Harry then Ron before motioning for them to follow him closer to the platform.
“What, uh, what exactly are we doing here,” Ron asks, eyeing the floating tapestry with suspicion.
“As the three to see him off, you must be the three to welcome him back.”
“You’ve figured out how to bring him back then,” Harry says hopefully.
“Not exactly. We know that the three of you must be present. The way to draw him back through the veil is yet unclear.”
“Surely you must have some idea,” Hermione says, her voice betraying her nerves. Harry squeezes her hand again.
“Old things have strange hungers.”
The three of them exchange a look, the idea of the veil—of death, really—being hungry not sitting well with any of them. While she wasn’t sure what the others had expected, she had certainly thought that the involvement of the unspeakables might have given more certainty to the plan. Still, they’re not Gryffindors for nothing.
“What do we have to do,” Ron asks.
“Step up to the curtain.”
Hermione takes a half-step forward, but Harry’s grip tightens on her hand, and he throws out an arm to stop Ron.
“I don’t want to go near it.”
“It’s okay to change your mind,” Hermione murmurs soothingly. “We are here voluntarily after all.”
She glances surreptitiously at the unspeakables gathered around them, needing to confirm her own words. No wands are drawn. Their faces are open, curious. When she makes eye contact with Nyx, he speaks.
“Your willingness is essential.”
Harry’s eyes close. Their former professor’s final sacrifice had left an indelible mark on him, she knew, and when presented the opportunity to give him a second chance at a happier life, he had jumped on it. Naturally this meant that she and Ron would be jumping, too.
“We’re with you, whatever you decide mate.”
“What if it kills us,” Harry asks, opening his eyes. “I can lose everything but you, not you. Not either of you.”
“It is… unlikely that it will be so straightforward a price as equal exchange,” Nyx says.
“Can we change our minds once it reveals the cost?”
“The contract will not bind until you make contact with the curtain.”
They draw a collective breath and step forward as one. Once they are within a meter of the curtain, a powerful wind seems to flow through the room. The center of the curtain pushes back as its edges pull forward. There’s a tremor under the floor. Then from the top of the curtain, blue flame trickles down like petrol burning over water. The flames undulate with the movement of the curtain.
One of the Unspeakables moves forward slightly. “There’s no heat.”
“I feel it,” says another, taking a step back.
Nyx moves into their line of sight. “Do any of you feel it?”
The three of them nod.
“Describe it. One at a time.”
“Blazing,” Harry says.
“What would you compare it to?”
“Er, a bonfire, I guess.”
Nyx nods as if this makes sense. “Mr. Weasley.”
Ron’s brow draws together. “Stifling. Like, my mum’s kitchen during the hols.”
“Miss Granger?”
“Warm.”
“What would you compare it to,” Nyx prompts. “Not just the temperature but any feeling it evokes.”
“Sitting by a lit hearth after coming in from the cold.”
The Unspeakables step back into a loose circle to converse. Their whispers create an eerie hum in the echoing chamber. The fire continues to burn in front of them. Hermione resists the urge to fidget in place.
“We have a theory,” Nyx says, returning to his place beside them. “It is not a guarantee.”
They wait expectantly.
“We believe if Mr. Potter touches the veil, it will overcome him. He has ventured into its realm before. It remembers.” Nyx lets the pronouncement sit for a moment then faces Ron. “Is there someone beyond the veil whose death you have not yet accepted, Mr. Weasley.”
Hermione takes his hand instinctively. Ron doesn’t react to her touch but nods stiffly at the question.
“We suspected as much. While the veil will not seek you, you may find yourself tempted to remain.”
Ron’s fingers tremble in hers.
“How do you feel about death, Miss Granger?”
“I find it sad,” she says, tilting her head as she considers it.
“Do you?” He sounds skeptical.
“I don’t… I don’t linger over it, but I do feel sad about the people I’ve lost.”
“You’ve not yet lost someone with whom you were particularly close, have you? “
“I suppose not.”
“Then in many ways death is yet unknown to you, Miss Granger,” Nyx says. “You neither fear it nor crave it. You are not its enemy nor its friend. You simply exist together. We believe that you have the best chance to retrieve Severus Snape.”
Both boys grip her hand tightly and she almost laughs. “What do I need to do?”
“We have prepared an elixir that will bring him to you, or you to him, once you’ve gone beyond the veil.”
“And then what,” Harry demands.
At this point, Hermione is unsurprised by Nyx’ lack of an answer. “That is for Miss Granger to discover.”
“It won’t kill me,” she clarifies.
“Not outright, no. Though the choice to remain behind the veil is yours, of course,” Nyx says far too conversationally in her opinion. “No, you will survive but you will become someone else.”
“Someone else,” Ron repeats.
“Do you really think that one can simply go beyond the veil and bring forth a lost soul without significant change?”
“Hermione,” Harry starts but she shushes him.
“It will not kill me,” she repeats. “I will not choose to stay.”
“But the changes…”
“You two are always telling me I’m too predictable,” she teases, her tone just a little off. “Perhaps the change will be good.”
“That’s not—”
“Does Professor Snape deserve this second chance?”
“I think so,” Harry says, “But the cost, Hermione.”
“Is mine to pay,” she reminds him. She takes a breath. “I agree that he deserves a second chance. Whatever changes I undergo, I am sure that I will weigh them less valuable than the life of another. I can handle this. Trust me.”
With great reluctance, they let her go. Nyx produces a vial from his cloak that contains a deep violet potion. It feels like ice when she takes it in her hand.
“What’s in it?”
“His blood, some of his memory fluid, fr—”
“Blood,” Ron says incredulously at the same time Harry says, “memory fluid.”
She sighs. “You know what? I don’t need to know.”
Then she swallows the contents of the vial in one go. The strangest sensation overcomes her.
“How, uh, how does he taste?”
Harry thumps Ron on the back of the head but Hermione answers.
“He tastes like every dark thought I’ve ever had.” Her voice is soft, oddly wistful.
She shakes off the feeling as she steps forward. Hermione touches the flames tentatively. To her surprise, she meets resistance. A warmed blanket draped over a rock in late sun. She frowns.
“You must commit, Miss Granger. Fire only answers to those who are willing to burn.”
Hermione turns back to Harry and Ron. She smiles. “Thanks for being my best friends. I love you both so much.”
Then she spreads out her arms and falls backwards towards the veil. The unspeakables take hold of Harry and Ron when they instinctively lunge forward to grab her. She slides through the veil easily this time, there one moment gone the next. The curtain falls utterly still.
An unspeakable flips over an hourglass.
A quarter of an hour passes.
The curtain ripples.
Once.
Twice.
It twists violently in on itself and then releases to reveal Severus Snape.
There is no trace of Hermione Granger.