Rewritten Destiny

Hermione Granger sat in a plush armchair in the Slytherin common room, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she absorbed the atmosphere around her. The green and silver decor, combined with the dim lighting, gave the room an almost sinister elegance. The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows that danced on the walls. Angitia, her snake familiar, coiled comfortably around her wrist beneath her robes, her scales glinting in the firelight, she had taken to following Hermione everywhere since the night of her collapse.

 

Hermione's mind was focused on her latest objective—the Mirror of Erised. She had read about it in one of the many obscure texts she had acquired, a mirror that showed the deepest desires of one's heart. For Hermione, the mirror represented an opportunity to gain insight into her own ambitions and perhaps uncover secrets that could be used to her advantage.

 

Her reputation had already served her well in Slytherin. She had quickly understood that knowledge was power and wielding it with precision was the key to survival and success. Normally, a first year wouldn’t be able to claim a seat next to the fire, but since her exploits with the Troll, the upper years hadn’t batted an eyelid.

 

Hermione had chosen to stay behind at Hogwarts during the Christmas holidays, a decision that was met with curiosity and scepticism by her peers, especially Draco who had invited her to attend his families Yule celebrations.

 

 It was a cold, silent night when Hermione decided to begin her search for the mirror. She donned her cloak and ensured Angitia was securely hidden beneath her sleeve. The castle was eerily quiet as she navigated the labyrinthine corridors, her steps echoing softly against the stone floors.

 

After what felt like an eternity of searching, Hermione finally located the hidden room where the Mirror of Erised was kept. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, she stepped inside, and her breath caught at the sight of the mirror. The ornate frame glittered in the low light, and Hermione approached it with a mixture of excitement and calculated curiosity. This was her chance to understand her deepest desires and confront whatever truths lay within her heart.

 

Standing before the mirror, Hermione took a deep breath and looked into its depths. The image that formed was both surprising and deeply satisfying. She saw herself, not as a mere student, but as a powerful witch with influence and control over those around her. She wore elegant robes, and her eyes shone with intelligence and authority. The vision was a testament to her ambitions and the lengths she was willing to go to achieve them.

 

Hermione's lips curled into a sly smile. "So, this is what I desire most," she murmured to herself, feeling a sense of affirmation. This vision aligned perfectly with the goals she had set for herself since arriving at Hogwarts.

 

But then the image began to change. The admiration and respect in the eyes of those around her twisted into expressions of fear and pain. She saw herself inflicting punishment on a wizard, her face cold and sneering. The powerful witch she had admired just moments before now appeared cruel and ruthless. The transformation in the mirror was jarring, and Hermione felt her heartbeat loudly in her chest. Angitia, sensing her distress, tightened around her wrist.

 

“What is wrong, Mistress? You are distressed,” Angitia said, slithering her way out of Hermione's sleeve and onto her shoulder, her tongue flicking out in concern.

 

Hermione tore her gaze away from the mirror, her hands trembling slightly. "I saw my heart’s desire. It showed me being respected and powerful, as I expected. But then it turned, showing me acting with cruelty. Is that what I desire? To be feared?" Her voice wavered with a mix of confusion and fear.

 

Angitia regarded her with understanding, her serpentine eyes reflecting the flickering light of the room. "Perhaps it is not so far from the truth, Mistress. Remember how you felt when you were betrayed? Perhaps you believe if they feared you, they wouldn’t have betrayed you."

 

Hermione felt a lump form in her throat. The betrayal Angitia referred to was not from this life but from the one she remembered so vividly. The pain and isolation she had felt when those she trusted turned against her had left deep scars. The desire for power and respect, she realized, was intertwined with a need to protect herself from ever feeling that vulnerable again.

 

"Maybe you're right," Hermione whispered, her eyes returning to the mirror. The reflection of the cruel, powerful witch stared back at her, a reminder of what she could become if she let her fears dictate her actions. "But I don't want to be like that. I don't want to be feared."

 

Angitia coiled around her arm, providing a comforting presence. "Then you must remember this vision, Mistress. Use it as a guide to shape your path. Seek power and respect, but do so with wisdom and compassion. Fear can protect you, but it can also isolate you. Balance is key."

 

Hermione nodded slowly, the weight of Angitia's words settling in her mind. The mirror had shown her a possible future, one where her quest for power led to darkness. But it also offered a chance to change, to steer herself towards a different path.

 

Taking a deep breath, she turned away from the mirror. "Thank you, Angitia. I won't forget this."

 

The snake flicked her tongue in response, and Hermione felt she needed to think on this and decide what she really wanted.

 

When she returned to the mirror, she felt a sense of familiarity, as if it were an old friend waiting to share its secrets, she wondered if the mirror had some form of compulsion charm on it. She stood before it once more, allowing her reflection to morph into another vision of her desires.

 

This time, the image was different. She saw herself in a classroom, much like the one she was standing in. She was older, her hair tied back in a neat bun, and she was surrounded by young students, their faces lit with curiosity and admiration. She was a teacher, a guide, someone who used her knowledge to inspire and nurture young minds.

 

A smile spread across Hermione's face. This was a desire she had not fully acknowledged before, but it didn’t feel quite right, but certainly eased her heart after the previous nights visit. She loved learning, and the idea of sharing that love with others filled her with warmth.

 

"Interesting," Hermione mused. "A different form of power, but power nonetheless."

 

Angitia slithered down her arm and rested her head against Hermione's hand. "Knowledge and influence... valuable tools," the snake seemed to whisper through their connection.

 

As Hermione was making her way back from another visit to the mirror, she encountered Professor Snape in the corridor. His dark eyes bore into hers, and she felt a momentary pang of apprehension.

 

"Miss Granger, what brings you out at this hour?" Snape's voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it.

 

Hermione quickly composed herself. "I couldn't sleep, Professor. I thought a walk might help clear my mind."

 

Snape raised an eyebrow, clearly not entirely convinced but choosing not to press the matter further. "Be sure you're not wandering into places you shouldn't be," he warned before sweeping away in a billow of black robes.

 

Hermione exhaled slowly, grateful for Angitia's calming presence. "That was close," she whispered, knowing that she would need to be even more careful in the future.

 

---

Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his mind preoccupied with recent events. His office, filled with ancient artifacts and tomes, seemed unusually silent, save for the occasional rustle from Fawkes, his phoenix. He had been observing Hermione Granger closely since the incident with the troll. Her behaviour had become increasingly worrisome, reminding him of another exceptionally gifted student from the past.

 

He had caught Hermione staring into the Mirror of Erised, and the intensity of her gaze troubled him. What did she see? What did she desire so deeply? He couldn't help but think back to Tom Riddle, whose ambitions had led him down a dark path. The parallels were unsettling.

 

Dumbledore cleared his throat, drawing Hermione's attention away from the mirror. "Miss Granger," he spoke softly so as not to alarm her “I see you too, have found the delights that is The Mirror of Erised”

 

Miss Granger didn’t turn to face him, her lack of reaction suggested she knew he was there, but how? Most Aurors wouldn’t detect someone using a disillusionment spell, interesting. “Delights or Torture, I guess that is for the individual to decide, as it shows your heart’s desire, not the future like some may mistake it”

 

Dumbledore again surprised at the perceptiveness of a first year student, his eyes twinkling with a mix of curiosity and concern. "What do you see?"

 

Hermione turned slowly, her expression guarded. "It's personal, Professor," she replied, her voice steady but with an undercurrent of defiance.

 

Dumbledore nodded, understanding the reluctance to share. "As you’ve already surmised, the Mirror of Erised shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts," he explained. "But it does not bring happiness or truth. Remember that."

 

Hermione's eyes flickered with a hint of frustration. "Obviously, Humans are never happy with what they have, even when they obtain what they desire, greed allows new desires to rise from them, meaning that the mirror will constantly be changing, showing you something constantly out of your reach. It is a cruel trick to play on people.”

 

Dumbledore observed her for a moment longer, sensing there was much she wasn't saying. "Hermione," he began, choosing his words carefully, "you remind me of another student who once stood where you are now. He, too, was exceptionally talented, driven, and fiercely intelligent."

 

Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly, and Dumbledore could see the wheels turning in her mind. "Voldemort? Really Sir?” she stated, her voice filled with disbelief “Oh, by the look on your face you’re surprised I worked it out? It isn’t really very hard Sir, this conversation can only be about someone who went Dark, and we both know Voldemort would never have allowed someone else to upstage him in brilliance, so with that deduction it was ‘elementary’.”

 

Dumbledore sighed inwardly, impressed by her perceptiveness. "Yes. He was a brilliant student, much like yourself. But his ambitions led him down a dangerous path."

 

Hermione's expression hardened, a mix of determination and disdain crossing her features. "If you are concerned, I will become the next Dark Lady, then you are barking mad, Sir." Hermione said firmly. "I have no intention of following his footsteps or yours for that matter."

 

Dumbledore's eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. "Mine, Miss Granger?"

 

"Yes, Professor," Hermione replied, her voice steady but cold. "You wield an immense amount of power, influence, and secrecy. You shape events and control information, much like he did. The difference lies in your intentions, but the methods are not so dissimilar."

 

Dumbledore pulled back as if struck, processing her words. The comparison stung, not because it was entirely inaccurate, but because it revealed a sharpness and depth to Hermione's understanding that he hadn't fully appreciated. "I see," he said slowly. "And what path do you intend to take, Hermione?"

 

"I intend to forge my own path, however, what that path may be sir, is mine alone, I do not understand why it is any of your business." she responded, her tone unwavering.

 

Dumbledore felt a pang of both admiration and concern. Miss Granger’s resolve was clear, her path not so much, but she was certainly not meek. "The world is full of complexities and difficult choices. Sometimes, decisions made in the shadows are meant to protect the light."

 

"Perhaps," Hermione conceded, her eyes still fierce. "But that doesn't mean I have to follow the same methods."

 

Dumbledore nodded, a mixture of hope and worry swirling within him. "Very well, Miss Granger. Just remember, even those with the best intentions can be led astray. Stay vigilant and true to your values."

 

Hermione gave a curt nod and left the office, her mind already spinning with plans and strategies. Dumbledore watched her go, a heavy feeling settling in his chest. He hoped she would find her way without succumbing to the same temptations that had ensnared Tom Riddle.

 

As the door closed behind her, Dumbledore turned to Fawkes, his faithful companion. "We must keep a close watch on her," he murmured. "She has great potential, but so did Tom. We cannot afford to make the same mistakes."

 

Fawkes trilled softly, as if in agreement, and Dumbledore's thoughts turned to the future. He would do everything in his power to guide Hermione, to prevent her from becoming lost in the pursuit of power. The stakes were too high to allow history to repeat itself.

 

 

Hermione felt a whirlwind of emotions after her conversation with Dumbledore. She walked briskly, her mind churning with thoughts and images. The last image that had flashed before her eyes was haunting: a battlefield littered with the bodies of loved ones, herself a scarred and injured mage mourning their loss.

 

Dumbledore's words echoed in her mind, mixing with her own growing disdain. He had compared her to Tom Riddle, but she saw more disturbing parallels between Dumbledore and Voldemort. Both wielded immense power, manipulating events and people like pieces on a chessboard, often endangering children's lives in the process.

 

She had seen through his grandfatherly facade, recognizing the calculated manipulations beneath. His attempts to mould her, to steer her path with his veiled threats and comparisons, only solidified her resolve.

 

Hermione thought about the numerous times Dumbledore had allowed danger to befall students, often justifying it as a part of some greater plan. The troll incident, the Philosopher's Stone, and the Triwizard Tournament were just a few examples. How many times had he gambled with their lives, deeming the risks necessary for the greater good?

 

As she replayed the conversation in her mind, her anger grew. Dumbledore's condescending tone and the twinkle in his eye when he mentioned her potential were infuriating. He saw her not as a person but as a tool, a means to an end.

 

"Just like Voldemort," she thought bitterly. The difference between the two was becoming increasingly blurred in her eyes. Both were willing to sacrifice others for their own ends, hiding behind justifications of necessity and destiny.

 

She was determined not to follow either of their paths. Hermione would forge her own way, driven by her own values and principles, not by the manipulations of others. The image of the battlefield returned a stark reminder of what could be if she allowed herself to be used by those with more power.

 

Hermione took a deep breath, steeling herself. She would not become a pawn in Dumbledore's game. She would protect her friends, even if it meant standing against those she once respected. Her path was her own, and she would walk it with eyes wide open, fully aware of the darkness that even the light could cast.

 

This new resolve gave her strength. She would not be led astray by power or manipulation. Hermione Granger would remain true to herself, no matter the cost