Not Our World (Harry Potter Fanfic)

Beware Mirrors

"Did you know antique mirrors are portals to other worlds?"

Hermione flinched, her body still tense from constantly being on edge during the war. " That sounds like something out of one of dad 's sci-fi novels rather than something magical. " One of her free hands reached up to rub the back of her neck. " And is this how dad feels whenever something puts him on edge? " She took a deep breath, glancing at her watch as she waited for the Auror that Kingsley assigned her for looking over the Granger household before they brought her parents back. "Surely not."

"In the magical world, one should always beware of antique mirrors because you don't know which ones will lead to another world that you can't get back from, or even how they're activated," Luna said, humming as she rocked back on her heels, the black marble tile surrounding the Ministry of Magic's vast Floo Network. Hermione didn't know where Luna was off to; Hermione didn't know, though she might have been helping with something related to magical creatures.

Hermione smiled at Luna; pleased Luna hadn 't stopped being Luna. " And to think, there would have been a time I wouldn 't have given her a second chance, maybe like how others.... " Hermione took a deep breath, brushing a hand through her curly brown hair. The hair color she'd inherited from her mother, but the curl was distinctly a trait from her father. "You aren't trying to distract me?"

"From what?" Luna said, her bright eyes sparkling despite a sadness behind them.

Hermione 's mouth opened, hesitating to say it , but then it came out. It wasn 't as if, after all, Luna would tell anyone what she said. "From feeling guilty."

"Guilty for what?" Luna asked.

"For..." Hermione pushed her lips together.

"You did what you had to," the other girl bubbled out. "For your parents to live, right?"

"Yes, but—they wouldn't have to deal with any of this, having to leave their home, have their memories erased if I wasn't their daughter. It's not as if I added anything to their lives, being that we live in completely different worlds." Hermione watched the smile on Luna's face, one finger reaching up to mess with a curl of her hair. "What?"

"I don't think your parents would agree with you."

"I—you weren't there when my parents came with me to Diagon Alley with my parents the summer before my second year. It was an absolute disaster. And my father...."

Hermione let out a sigh, remembering how it was her mother who lay down some ground rules regarding magical things to protect her father from having a similar meltdown as he did the moment they returned from their shopping trip—magic was practically off-limits.

"Having a Muggle child or none at all would have been better." She rocked back on her heels, the corners of her mouth twisting together. "I'm just going to get their house fixed, their memories returned, and be out of their lives for good."

Luna let out a humming sound, her hands tucked behind her back. "Ron isn't going with you?"

"Ron and his family are still planning a funeral," Hermione said, though there had been suggestions thrown out by various Weasley family members that he should, in fact, go with her, including George. Her mind still puzzled over this, particularly the rather sad look in George's eyes when she said it was alright.

"I see." Luna pushed her lips together.

"And I'll be fine," Hermione insisted. "Why do I have the feeling you're not here on Ministry Business?"

"But I am here on business," Luna said, which wasn't quite what Hermione asked.

"Ms. Granger!" an overly chipper voice called out, making Hermione wince. She turned and smiled at the young ministry official that Kingsley assigned to help her get her parents home straightened up before they brought her parents back under the pretext of legal matters they had to handle before they could return to a happy retirement in Australia. "Ms. Granger!"

Hermione felt the corner of her mouth twist and turned her head to look at Luna. "I've got to go."

Luna nodded her head. "Beware the mirrors! Or perhaps not."

Hermione 's brown eyes blinked as Luna took off, before turning to the ministry official assigned to her, who cheerfully introduced themselves and talked way too much about how the ministry was overlooking her transgression of erasing her parent's memory, which—despite not being the young woman's intent—stung deep.

Taking a deep breath, she followed her through, and—

"You did the right thing...."

Hermione 's lips pushed together, taking in the broken glass from picture frames smashed on the floor and scorch marks marring the wallpaper she remembered her mother and father picking out when they redid the front room, saying something about looking completely normal, something she expected more from Harry's aunt than her parents.

"...looking at all of this," the young woman finished saying.

Hermione looked at the couch and the tears in the fabric from which stuffing escaped. Despite her father 's anxieties regarding anything and everything magic, she remembered how supportive they were, even letting her get Crookshanks.

Sometimes, she thought Crookshanks liked her father the best. Her father would sit there, on the couch with Crookshanks in his lap, reading out loud to the creature as if he could understand what he said just like a human could, while a colossal purr erupted from the half-Kneazle. Lazily, her father would scratch ears and chin while Crookshanks left tufts of orange hair all over the place.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Why don't you start down here, and I start upstairs?"

"Sure thing."

In reality, she wanted to get a good look at the damage, remember what had been lost, and remind her how important it was to separate herself now that she was an adult and could take care of herself, her parents having no further obligation to her. It felt cold, but so did seeing everything they 'd worked so hard for crushed.

Slowly and surely, she headed up the stairs, looking through all of the rooms, noting what would need to be repaired, worrying whether some of it couldn 't be fixed. The door to her bedroom was blasted, and she flinched upon seeing—it was the word scarred into her arm by Bellatrix Lestrange during the war. Mudblood, a reminder of her filth.

"You're not filth. Don't ever let anyone make you tell you otherwise."

Hermione grimaced, remembering what her father said. He always told her to believe in herself and not let anything hold her back from being the most fantastic person he knew she was. Her eyes blinked, looking at the ground. " Okay. Maybe that 's what Luna meant, but still. All of this—all of this is my fault. "

Taking a deep breath, she turned away, her eyes suddenly lighting upon the stairs up to the attic. Her eyes blinked, for some reason feeling drawn up the stairs by some strange force that wasn 't there before. She pushed the door open and looked around, her eyes lighting upon the mirror, the antique mirror she remembered always being covered with a white cloth.

She knew it was a mirror as she 'd peeked under a few times, pulled the cloth off only for her mother to return it, chastising her about her father not liking dust on the things in the attic. However, it was the only thing covered by a cloth in the attic; the exact details were forgotten as she stopped trying to uncover the mystery of the mirror at a very young age.

For some reason, her hand reached out, tugging the cloth.

Hermione saw her reflection felt a tug as the cloth dropped to the floor. Her eyes opened and closed, her mouth opening as she saw not her adult self, but a miniature child version of herself reflected in the mirror, but when she held up her hand, it was a child 's hand.

"Hermione! Come on downstairs, dear!"