Chapter Text
About 1000 years ago:
„I still have my doubts, that this is a wise idea, my friend. I know it was my idea in the first place, but maybe there is another way.“
Salazar sighed deeply while he looked at the dark-haired witch beside him. During their youth, Rowena had been one of the most beautiful women he ever laid eyes on. But the years hadn't been kind to her. Much like him, she had been fates victim whenever she found love and happiness. It was never for long.
Her hair, at one time sleek black and shiny, was dull and riddled with grey strands. The dark blue robes barely hid her much too thin figure and most of the time Salazar was hesitant to touch her out of fear she would break. Happiness had left her a long time ago, but it had been Helena's death that truly broke her. And now she was once again forced to bury a familiar face. He hated himself for forcing her hand, but they both knew there was no way around it.
„My dear, we both know that is only wishful thinking. We consulted every book, asked every bloody witch and wizard we thought could help and went form one end of the world to the other. I'm running out of time and I fear this is my only option.“ If there was another way he wouldn't be here, climbing into a coffin, like a man who carried a death wish. He would be on the hunt to find the bastard who cursed him.
„It's called a sarcophagus, Salazar.“
His head whipped around as he realised, that she'd used Legilimency on him and for a moment he was convinced he saw some of the old mirth in her eyes. But as soon as it appeared it vanished. Grumbling about his inability to stop her from roaming his mind, he climbed into the uncomfortable looking sarcophagus.
Well it wasn't as if he would notice any discomfort in a few minutes. At least he hoped so.
„You will be fine. When have I ever failed making a charm work? “
„Row!“ He whined.
„Stop reading my mind!“ This time she grinned; he was sure of it. „That's not funny!“
„I wasn't reading your mind, your face said it all. It's a wonder you are willing to climb into it at all, given your need for pompous luxury.“
„A man has needs!“ He mumbled while he leaned back.
„Sure,“ she snorted before she went serious again. „I'm so sorry Salazar. You don't deserve any of this and I wish...Merlin I wish I could save you. How can they call me the brightest which of our age, when I'm not even able to save the people nearest to my heart?“
„Row!“ He sighed. „You are not responsible for any of this, do you hear me? It's his fault and his alone. I know he suffered, but his sorrow has clouded his heart as well as his mind. He isn't the man we once knew.“
„I know, it just seems so bloody unfair!“
„I know.“ And with that he pushed himself back into a sitting position and hugged her gently. „Good-bye my dear friend, I'm sorry it has to end like this.“
„I hope someday someone will be able to success where I failed. Good-bye my friend.“ And with a last kiss to her cheek he leant back once more to watch the marvellous witch in front of him perform on last grand piece of magic. His last thought was that she was truly the brightest witch of her age before he slowly drifted into nothingness.
May 1993:
Hermione wasn't the brightest witch of her age for nothing. Though looking at the basilisk through her mirror wasn't one of her better ideas. However, considering she had just been petrified she felt surprisingly good.
Was it normal that she could think in her momentary state? Shouldn't she just...well...be petrified? The basilisk turned her into stone, didn't it? Stone couldn't think, so why could she? Wrinkling her forehead into an angry frown, she combed through her mind for a logical solution but couldn't come up with anything.
If there was something Hermione hated, it was a question she could not answer. How she wished she could consult the library right now.
That was the moment something odd happened. Even more odd than being turned into stone by a Basilisk as big as a train, or being told you are a witch at your eleventh birthday.
One moment she was inside the infirmary and the next she was standing between two giant bookshelves. Bookshelves she had never seen before. (She later blamed her fascination for books for the fact that she allowed her mind to get side-tracked.)
Others might not be able to tell the difference, but she had spent most of her free time inside Hogwarts' library – even the restricted area with a little help from Harry's invisible clock – and Hermione would recognise the books before her, had she seen them before.
They were dusty, leather-bound, fragile-looking and obviously old. Her fingers were downright itching to touch them and without thinking she reached out to inspect a particular interesting looking tomb. Though it wasn't her hand which grasped right though the leather-bound volume, but a golden shimmering wing.
With a silent cry, she jumped back. A silly move she realised a moment later as 1. the wing was attached to her body thus followed her movement, 2. her hasty movement made her loose her balance and 3. she was forced to realise that her wing wasn't the only thing without solid form at the moment as her body crashed right through the book-shelve behind her.
Horrified Hermione looked down at herself. At least the part that wasn't hidden by the shelf. Hurriedly she crawled back and sighed with relief as she noticed her legs were still attached to her body and seemed perfectly fine. That was if shiny, insubstantial legs could be considered fine.
Oh, Merlin, she was a ghost! The Basilik hadn't petrified her – it killed her!
But wait, before the panic she felt inside her stomach managed to overwhelm her, her rational mind interfered. She couldn't be a ghost.
She'd met ghosts and none of them possessed the sparkling golden aura she radiated at the moment, let alone wings. Uneasily she looked at her right arm, or what used to be her right arm anyway. Magnificent feathered wings could be found in its place. Hesitantly she tried to move them and was surprised how easily they obeyed her command.
After a little bit of experimenting she was standing on her feet again. Obviously, her wings weren't just there for decoration, they worked perfectly fine and could be used for flying. Something she wasn't overly eager to test out, so she tried to hold them very still at her side.
Her mind was flipping over with thoughts, but the rational and logical traits that had formed her character from a very young age on actually helped her to tune down her fear and use her brain.
Don't panic Hermione. Use your brain! What was the last things you remember?
She had used a mirror to confirm her suspicion concerning the creature, who lived in the chamber of secrets. Unfortunately, she had not only been right but knocked herself out in doing so. The Basilisk stare had turned her to stone but that was a temporary condition, right? As soon as Professor Sprout was able to harvest the Mandragora, Professor Snape would brew the Mandrake Restoriative Draught and everything would be fine. Yes well, at least that was what she had been telling herself when she came up with her plan.
Obviously, something went wrong. Very wrong.
Her eyes went back to the ancient looking books in front of her. If she wanted to fix this problem, she should probably get to the bottom of it first. And what better way was there to answer her questions than to consult the right book? Somehow, she had a feeling that this room held the answer to many questions.
Awed stuck she allowed her eyes to roam the place. She could make out five massive bookshelves with rare looking tombs and a beautiful desk of the same wood with rune-like pattern craved into it, on one side of the room. The other side was dominated by a small but well-equipped potions lap, though she wasn't sure if anyone wanted to use the ingredients which were carefully stored along the back wall. The racks contained all sorts of chests, ampullae, glasses and boxes. Who knew how much time had passed since anybody set a foot side this room? From the layers of dust, it had to be quite a while.
How did she get here? Who owned this room? And most important of all, what happened to her?
Once again she reminded herself to keep it cool, after all she was convinced that there was a solution for every problem. This time though, she wasn't exactly sure how to name her problem, which made it so much harder to solve it.
She'd just decided to step over to the desk and search it more thoroughly, when she felt something tugging on her chest. It was an odd feeling as if a hand had gripped her shirt and pulled her. Stumbling she moved forward, but the feeling didn't stop. Far from it, it seemed to get more intense and suddenly she was knocked off her feet. But she didn't fall like before, she simply hung in the air.
At least for a few precious seconds before the next pull ripped her across the room and through the wall. The last thought that went through her head before everything went black was, that she hated flying. In every form.
February 1995:
Who would have thought, that she was the one-person Victor Krum would miss the most in the world? Certainly, not her. Hermione felt flattered and frightened at the same time. For the first time in her life a boy, a man really, took notice of her as a girl. Something her heart had yearned for, for quite some time now. So of course, she didn't hesitate to play a part in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. Dumbledore had assured them that it was perfectly safe.
She did not feel safe.
That was the first thing that shot through head when she saw herself floating in the lake, tied to the ground by algae and surrounded by rather aggressive looking merpeople. She, that was the body in front of her, looked cold and helpless.
Merlin, she wished she could be somewhere safe.
As if a higher power had heard her silent plea she drifted away. For a moment, she was overwhelmed by a feeling of dejá-vu, but as quickly as it appeared it was gone and with it her surroundings.
When her vision cleared again, she was standing in an unfamiliar room. It was small, dusty and would have been quite unspectacular hadn't it been for the giant sarcophagus in the middle of the room. Not a gold encrusted, jewel engaged one like the ones Egyptian Pharaohs used as their resting place. The one in front of her was made from a dark, nearly black, stone as far as Hermione could see and the only thing that stuck out, beside the fact that there was a real freaking sarcophagus in front of her, was that it did not possess a lid.
Odd. Somehow, she was sure the stone tomb was not empty. How she knew it she couldn't say, she just did. Hesitantly she stepped nearer, floated until she was hovering over the sarcophagus. Had it not been for the man inside, she sure as hell would have freaked out over the fact that she was floating in mid-air, due to a pair of impressive looking gold shimmering wings she suddenly possessed.
But as is was, she was too occupied with starring at the stranger to really pay attention to her own person. Hands down, he was the most handsome man Hermione had ever laid eyes on. Had she been corporal she was sure she would be drooling.
Even laying completely silent he appeared tall and striking. The sort of person who captured the attention of everyone as soon as he stepped into a room. His elegant and form-fitting green wizard robs looked outdated but did little to hide his well-trained body.
His hair was sleek, dark and neatly bound behind his neck which gave her a perfect view of his face. He had olive coloured skin and a well-trimmed goatee, which bestowed him with a rakish look that made her think of the wizards that decorated the covers of the corny romance novels Lavender was so fond of.
But what really captured her attention, were the ancient runes that were tattooed onto his forehead from one temple to the other. The few she could identify were powerful runes of protection but most of them she had never seen before.
For a while she just hung there and starred at him before she noticed that the sarcophagus indeed had a lid, it just wasn't what she'd expected. Maybe that was the reason it had slipped her attention at first.
Right the hunk of a man inside had nothing to do with her lack of vigilance.
Instead of a stone made lid, like she expected, she could make out a magical barrier. Once again it was something she had never seen before. The magic seemed downright alive, floating in calm waves over the resting body. There were runes too, which were somehow inter-weaved in the stream of magic and Hermione was overcome by the intense urge to touch it.
Tentatively she reached for the barrier, but just inches before her fingers made contact with the shimmering magic beneath her something powerful pulled backwards.
And with a silent cry she was jerked away from the sarcophagus, away from the room and finally away from every conscious thought as everything went black.
June 2001:
She should not have touched the object so carelessly, but who would have thought a simple touch could have that effect? Considering her history and her current job, she probably should expect the worst and hope for the best. Well, she would keep it in mind for the next occasion, as she doubted it would be her last magical accident. Since she had been told that she was a witch at the gentle age of eleven there had not been a year without odd, phenomenal, terrifying and shell-shocking events.
Tough the well protected chest, whose protective spells sent her flying through the room, was pretty impressive, it was not the artefact that had her eyes wide with shock and fascination. It was what happened when her head hit the wall and knocked her out for a moment.
For a second, just a fleeting moment really, a part of her left her mortal body. She had no idea how to describe the short experience. The best term she could come up with was that her spirit left her body for a moment. She was able to see her corporal-self lying on the ground, her winged spiritual form hovering protectively above. But what really shocked her was the sense of deja-vu before she was overwhelmed by memories.
At first, she couldn't decide what to make of the confusing pictures. She remembered wings, a stone sarcophagus, books and a man who was much too attractive to forget him that easily. And then all of the sudden everything was clear and she was back in her body.
“Holy Merlin, are you okay Granger?” Blaise Zabini her partner in the Department of Mysteries worriedly searched her head for possible injuries and Hermione winced, when his fingers made contact with the big bump on its backside. Ignoring the dizziness as well as the pain she looked him in the eye.
“What do you know about spiritual journeys?”
“You hit your head pretty hard, hu?”
TBC