Rewritten Destiny

The warm, inviting glow of candlelight flickered in the Headmaster’s office. Shelves lined with ancient tomes, magical artifacts, and various curious items surrounded the room. Albus Dumbledore sat behind his grand oak desk, his half-moon glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, peering over an old manuscript. Fawkes, his phoenix, preened silently on his perch, the only sound in the tranquil room.

 

A knock on the door echoed softly. "Enter," Dumbledore called, his voice calm and steady.

 

The door creaked open, and Severus Snape entered, his robes billowing behind him. He approached the desk with his usual air of controlled precision, his face as inscrutable as ever.

 

"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore greeted, setting aside his manuscript. "Please, have a seat."

 

Snape sat, his dark eyes observing Dumbledore intently. "You wished to see me, Headmaster?"

 

Dumbledore nodded, steepling his fingers as he leaned forward. "Indeed. I wanted to discuss a student of yours, Miss Hermione Granger."

 

Snape’s expression remained unreadable, but a flicker of interest sparked in his eyes. "What about her?"

 

Dumbledore sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I've noticed a change in Miss Granger since the incident with the troll. Her behaviour has become... concerning."

 

Snape's brow furrowed slightly, a sign of his growing interest. "She has been more reclusive, yes. But given the trauma she experienced; it is not unexpected."

 

"True," Dumbledore acknowledged. "However, it's more than just reclusiveness. She has become intensely focused on her studies and has shown signs of a rather unhealthy obsession with certain types of spells, you saw what remained of the Troll."

 

Snape’s eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting she is a danger, Headmaster?"

 

Dumbledore hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Not necessarily a danger, but she reminds me of another student from many years ago. A student who was also exceptionally gifted, ambitious, and isolated."

 

Snape’s jaw tightened. He knew exactly who Dumbledore was referring to, but he wouldn’t say the name. "Hermione is not Tom, Albus. She is strong-willed, definitely a little power hungry as her studies show, but she has a good heart, you heard the other students accounts, she threw herself in front of the Troll."

 

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled with a mix of concern and hope. "I am not saying she is a bad person, but you know better than anyone, how tempting dark magic is, I trust your judgment, Severus. But I fear that if she continues down this path without guidance, she may find herself lost."

 

Snape straightened. "She is not who you think she is Albus. She is driven, probably one of the most driven I’ve ever seen, she despises her cousin, and we both know what he dabbles in. Even if she were tempted, the sheer disgust she showed for Love Potions is enough for me to not distrust her."

 

Dumbledore nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "Why Severus, I think this is the most animated I’ve ever seen you in defence of a student.”

 

Snape grunted “She has potential, if nurtured and she isn’t here to play the same games the other children in her year are, it’s refreshing to teach someone who actually wants to learn.”

 

As Snape rose to leave, Dumbledore’s gaze lingered on him. "Remember, Severus, even the brightest stars can be led astray without the proper guidance.”

 

Snape nodded, his expression serious. "I understand, Headmaster."

 

Over the next few days, Snape discreetly observed Hermione. He watched as she isolated herself in the library, buried in books far beyond the standard curriculum. He noted her late-night ventures into the more obscure sections of the castle, practicing spells with a fervour that bordered on obsession.

 

Hermione had always been an exemplary student, but now she was pushing herself beyond what was reasonable. She was studying ancient texts, experimenting with advanced spells, and neglecting her interactions with her peers. It was as if she was driven by an insatiable need to prove something to herself.

 

One evening, he found her in a disused classroom. Concealed by shadows, he observed her intricate spellwork and the intensity in her eyes. She was working on a particularly complex incantation, her brow furrowed in concentration. The runes on the floor glowed brightly as she chanted, the power of the spell palpable even from a distance.

 

“Perfect,” she whispered to herself, a smile of satisfaction playing on her lips. But the triumph was fleeting, replaced quickly by a look of frustration.

 

Snape watched her for a moment longer, his concern growing. He knew he needed to intervene before she pushed herself too far.

 

Deciding it was time to act, Snape chose a moment when he knew Hermione would be alone. He found her in the same disused classroom, surrounded by scattered parchments and glowing runes. She didn’t notice his presence until he spoke.

 

"Miss Granger," he said, his voice cutting through the silence.

 

Hermione spun around, her wand at the ready. When she saw who it was, she relaxed slightly but didn’t lower her wand completely. "Professor Snape. I didn’t hear you come in."

 

Snape stepped forward, his eyes scanning the room. "It appears you’ve been quite busy."

 

Hermione’s eyes flickered around the floor, while she put her wand away “Yes, just working on a couple of projects.”

 

Snape nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It appears to me, Miss Granger, that you are running from the truth.”

 

Hermione’s shoulders tensed. "And what truth would that be, Sir."

 

Snape took another step closer, his tone softening slightly. "I thought you smarter than this, you have clearly been upset since the Troll Incident, have you talked to anyone about it?” Hermione was about to answer “That was rhetorical, Miss Granger. I know you have not, as you have rebuked every attempt by your dormmates, they are concerned, I am concerned.”

 

Hermione, defiant in her stance “You concern is duly noted, however it is unwarranted, I am fine.”

 

Snape sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "True strength comes from within, Miss Granger. It’s not just about magic or knowledge. I understand why you’re upset, that 2^nd year Hufflepuff who was injured, you blame yourself for it.”

 

Hermione caught herself before she let her temper lose “I did not let the Troll into the castle sir, why would I feel guilty for it.”

 

Professor Snape sighed “Strength isn’t just about magic, it’s about understanding yourself and trusting those who care about you."

 

Hermione scoffed, pulling away. "Trust? I can’t trust anyone to protect me. I have to do it myself."

 

Snape’s expression darkened, her reaction was eerily similar to when Hector was mentioned, had he gotten this wrong? “Miss Granger, your desire for independence is commendable, but isolating yourself will only lead to more harm. You need allies.”

 

Hermione’s eyes hardened. "I don’t need anyone.”

 

Snape sighed, seeing the stubborn resolve in her eyes. "Very well, but remember, my door is always open should you need guidance."

 

Hermione nodded curtly. "I appreciate the offer, Professor, but I have it under control."

 

As Snape left the classroom, he felt a glimmer of concern. Hermione was strong and determined, but her refusal to accept help could be her downfall. He needed to find another way to guide her.

 

Hermione's rigorous schedule continued unabated. She spent long hours in the library, poring over advanced magical texts and practicing complex spells late into the night. The pressure she put on herself was immense, driven by her fear of being unprepared for the unknown threats she perceived.

 

One evening, after a particularly gruelling day of classes and self-imposed study sessions, Hermione felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. She shook her head, trying to clear the fog that seemed to settle in her mind, but it only grew worse.

 

Determined to push through, she continued reading, her eyes straining against the dim light of the library. The words on the page blurred, and her head began to throb. She tried to stand, intending to fetch a potion for a headache, but her legs gave out beneath her. The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was the worried face of Madam Pince rushing towards her.

 

When Hermione awoke, she found herself lying in a bed in the hospital wing. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled her nostrils, and the soft rustling of bed curtains indicated she wasn’t alone. She turned her head slowly, wincing at the stiffness in her neck.

 

Madam Pomfrey bustled over, her expression a mix of concern and reproach. "Miss Granger, you've overworked yourself to the point of collapse. You must take better care of yourself."

 

Hermione blinked, her mind struggling to catch up. "What happened?"

 

"You collapsed in the library," Madam Pomfrey said, her tone firm. "You're suffering from severe exhaustion. You need rest, not more studying."

 

Hermione’s eyes widened in alarm. "But I have so much to do. I can’t afford to rest."

 

Madam Pomfrey crossed her arms, her expression brooking no argument. "You will rest, Miss Granger. Or I will make sure you do. Understood?"

 

Hermione nodded reluctantly, knowing there was no arguing with the matron. She sank back into the pillows, her mind racing despite her body's exhaustion.

 

Later that evening, Hermione lay back in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. Madam Pomfrey had given her a potion to help with her exhaustion, but her mind refused to quiet down. Memories and emotions swirled within her, refusing to be subdued by mere physical rest.

 

As the room grew darker with the encroaching night, a familiar presence slithered into the room. Her snake familiar emerged from the shadows, her emerald eyes glinting in the low light. She had been with Hermione for as long as she could remember—a constant companion and confidant.

 

"Hermione," the snake hissed softly, "I've searched the castle for you. Your absence worried me."

 

Hermione sighed, her eyes softening as she looked at her loyal familiar. "I'm sorry, my friend. I didn't mean to worry you."

 

The snake coiled herself on the bed beside Hermione, her scales shimmering. "You are troubled. Tell me what burdens you."

 

Hermione hesitated, then nodded. She had never shared the full extent of her past life with anyone, not even her parents. But tonight, the weight of her memories felt too heavy to bear alone—not like her snake could tell anyone apart from maybe Harry anyway. "I remember my past life," Hermione began. "Before I was Hermione Granger, I was someone else."

 

The snake's eyes narrowed slightly but didn’t say anything, just tasting the air with her tongue.

 

Hermione took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "In my past life, I was a physicist. My name was... Elena. The memories are hazy, but I remember the lab, the research. I was on the verge of a breakthrough, something that could change the world." She chuckled. "Although, I guess every scientist thought the same. It wouldn’t have made any impact immediately, but it would have eventually."

 

She paused, the memory of that betrayal still sharp and painful. "But I trusted the wrong people. Colleagues, people I thought were my friends. They saw the potential in my work and decided they wanted it for themselves. One night, they... they killed me, took my research, and made it their own."

 

The snake listened intently, her tongue flicking out as she absorbed Hermione's words. "That is why you are driven now," she said. "To avoid the mistakes of the past."

 

"Yes," Hermione whispered. "I push myself because I'm afraid. Afraid of being unprepared, of being weak. I can't let that happen again." She drew a short breath. "And yet," she said, fighting back the tears, "even here, with another chance at life, I’ve failed." She choked out, "Had I not been trying to hide my gifts, had I acted immediately, that poor girl wouldn’t have been hurt."

 

The snake moved closer, her cool body pressing against Hermione's arm in a comforting gesture. "It is wise to be cautious, Hermione. Trust is precious and must be given sparingly. But remember, I am here for you. You are not a god; you cannot foresee everything. You acted when everyone else stood still, paralysed by their fear like prey, yes?"

 

Hermione nodded, still trying to fight back the tears. "But I know, I know more than just my past life. I’ve seen all of this world, all of the dangers. Even knowing what could happen, I was pathetic!" Unable to hold back the tears any longer, she wept.

 

The snake watched her friend for a few moments while she calmed herself. "Fear is an important instinct. You feel this more than any because you know death, you know what will happen if you hesitate, and you condemn yourself for being just as mortal as the rest of us." The snake hissed, "That is arrogant."

 

Hermione, shocked, said, "What?! I’m not arrogant!" indignantly.

 

The snake gave her an appraising look. "So, you think just because you know what might happen, that means you can stop everything? Make everything okay? That hubris will be your downfall. I do not wish to see you fall, my friend. You cannot do everything; you are but one person!" she hissed.

 

Hermione nodded, tears welling in her eyes. She hated that her friend was right. "I know. It's just... hard to let go of that fear."

 

The snake's voice was gentle but firm. "Fear is a part of you, but it does not have to control you. Remember, true strength comes from within, from understanding your limits and embracing the support of those who care for you."

 

Hermione wiped away a tear, a small smile forming on her lips. "Thank you. You've been here for me, even when I didn't know I needed you."

 

The snake lifted her head slightly. "We are bonded, Hermione. More than just a snake and witch."

 

Hermione's eyes widened. "A familiar bond... that's why I feel so connected to you."

 

"I do not know what it is called," the snake answered. "But that bond has grown since you took me into your nest, especially since we came to this place. The magic of this place has fed me, allowed me to grow. When we first met, I was much weaker, but now I am stronger, just like you."

 

Hermione marvelled at this revelation. "I have noticed you're much better at speaking now. It's incredible how we've both changed."

 

They sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of the conversation having taken its toll on Hermione, dragging up the past—a past she still couldn’t fully recall. Looking to her snake, Hermione felt a warmth spread through her. "I promise to trust more, but I will still be careful with whom I share my secrets. And I'll start by giving you a proper name."

 

The snake looked at her curiously. "A name?"

 

"Yes," Hermione said, her mind racing through possibilities. "How about... Angitia? I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. Did you know she’s supposed to be the goddess of thaumaturgy and healing, especially snake bites?"

 

The snake tilted her head, considering. "Angitia. It is a good name. I accept."

 

"Angitia it is," Hermione said, smiling. "Thank you for being with me, for being my friend."