Through the Looking Glass ~ COMPLETED

Chapter 2 ~ Weirdness Abounds

Hermione walked out into the corridor and decided to head for the library. It was the weekend, so she had no classes. She took the shifting staircase down to the fourth floor and walked up the corridor. The castle seemed eerily empty. It was the weekend, however, and from what she could see out the windows, it was nice outside. Maybe the students were in the courtyard or walking around the grounds.

She entered the library, breathing in the scent of leather bound books and parchment, her brown eyes washing over the tens of thousands of books that lined the walls and filled the shelves. Madame Pince was behind the counter, looking for all the world like an underfed vulture waiting for carrion. She looked at Hermione irritably but said nothing as she entered.

"Hello, Madame Pince," Hermione called out to the librarian, who continued to glare at her as if she were invading her territory.

Hermione was a bit taken aback. She was one of the few students Madame Pince was relatively nice to, because she always brought her books back on time.

Figuring Madame Pince must be having a bad day, Hermione idly walked to the back of the library, then stopped . . . stunned.

"What?" she said to herself as she looked for the rope that blocked off the Restricted Section. It wasn't there. Hermione couldn't believe it. Well, maybe they came up with a new protection. She walked back up to the desk, and looked into Madame Pince's shriveled face.

"Madame Pince, is there a new protection on the Restricted Section?" she asked the librarian.

Madame Pince scowled at the chestnut-haired witch before her. It didn't do a thing for her looks.

"What are you talking about? We don't have a Restricted Section! Now get out of here, I'm busy," the old buzzard snapped, clutching several books to her thin bosom and turning away from Hermione purposely.

Hermione blinked at the librarian. Madame Pince was always rather unpleasant, but now . . . she was plain nasty. Hermione decided not to press the issue and walked back to where the Restricted Section should be. She gingerly walked past where the rope would have been, half expecting something to happen, bells to sound, a trap door to open . . . something.

But, nothing did.

And there they were, books on the Dark Arts for anyone to read without supervision. That was . . . irresponsible. Some of these books were dangerous to even touch. Hermione looked at them closer and saw there were bits of colored paper or tape attached to them. Then she saw the sign:

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Dear gods. What was going on here? Some of these books could suck a person into another dimension. Others held evil spirits and demons that tricked people into making wishes, then took their souls. Had the Headmaster gone mad?

This had to be a recent development. Just yesterday there was a Restricted Section. She'd ask Dumbledore what was going on when she saw him next. Maybe he didn't know about this. Hermione couldn't believe he'd condone allowing students access to these books unsupervised. No, he couldn't know. Maybe Madame Pince had finally snapped and opened up the Restricted Section in hopes that a few students would disappear and she'd have less to deal with.

Hermione looked at the librarian, who glared back at her. She decided to leave. The library felt wrong and unwelcoming. Dangerous, actually, with all those books in the open.

Hermione left the library, and caught the shifting stairs back up to the seventh floor, heading for Gryffindor Tower. Maybe Harry and Ron were there playing Wizard's Chess. As she walked up the corridor, she saw a black cat with a white face and white paws walking toward her. It was cute.

Hermione held out her hand.

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," she said to it.

The cat arched its back and hissed at her angrily.

"Well, you're not very nice, are you?" Hermione said, straightening and putting her hands on her hips.

Suddenly, the cat was gone and in its place stood someone very familiar, but . . . not familiar at all.

"I beg to differ, Miss Granger," the silken voice purred at her. "Past experience has shown me it is you who is not very nice. Last time I came to you in my animagus form, you tried to shove me in a burlap sack . . . I imagine to try and drown me."

Hermione blinked up at the wizard.

"Professor Snape?" she said, staring at him.

His hair was soft and shining, his face, unlined. He looked extremely relaxed and there was no harshness to his expression at all. He still had all the Snape features, big nose, black eyes and an angular face, but there was none of the built-in malice for all living apparent. In fact, he looked rather pleasant. His eyes weren't the least bit narrowed and he was slightly smiling.

The wizard cocked his head at her.

"Why are you in Gryffindor colors, Miss Granger? Trying to lure my Gryffindors in close enough to get a bead on them? You look . . . quite different. They wouldn't recognize you until they were right on top of you," Snape said.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked him, touching her bushy hair. "I don't look any different than I usually look. And I'm supposed to be in Gryffindor colors. And what do you mean, 'your' Gryffindors? What's going on here?"

Snape looked at her a bit strangely.

"Are you all right, Miss Granger? You seem . . . confused," he said to her softly. "I don't want to take you to Poppy. She'd have your head in a vise for sure. I'd better take you to Minerva, your Head of House. I believe she's in her lab."

"Her lab? Professor McGonagall doesn't have a lab!" she said to the tall wizard, who gently took her arm and started walking toward the shifting stairwell with her.

"Of course she has a lab," he responded, still looking at Hermione oddly.

"Where else would she brew her potions?"

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Snape threw Hermione into a chair, still bound and gagged as Albus put the tea set down on his desk, then walked behind it, searching for a particular book on the shelves that lined the walls.

Fawkes, who was sitting on his perch, whistled with surprise at seeing Hermione bound and gagged. Snape loomed over her, his pale fists clenched and looking as if he'd like to physically work her over. Hermione's eyes were narrowed with hatred as she glared back at him.

"Ah, here it is," Albus said, drawing a book out and sitting down at his desk with it.

He adjusted his glasses and leafed through the book, stopping at a page, his long finger tracing the sentences as he silently read them. He looked up at Snape.

"Remove the . . . er . . .tape from her mouth, Severus," he said to the wizard.

"With pleasure, Headmaster," Snape purred, using his fingernail to scrape up the tape on the right side, then ripping it off quickly.

"Ow, you bastard!" Hermione yelled at him as Albus winced.

"You know, it's too bad I can't take a thousand points from Gryffindor," he hissed at her. "Your behavior warrants at least that much."

"I don't care if you take two thousand points from your own house," she spat at him. "Why should I, you idiot?"

Snape blinked at her.

"What? Gryffindor isn't my house you batty wench! What's wrong with you? Has someone hit you with a Confundus hex?" Snape asked her in disbelief.

"Ah, Severus . . . Miss Granger . . . I believe a few simple questions will solve at least part of this dilemma. Now, Miss Granger . . . believe me when I say we have no wish to hurt you---"

"Speak for yourself, Headmaster," Snape growled as Hermione looked up at him with a bit of surprise. Snape being threatening? Completely out of character.

"Sure you don't. I'm a Muggle-Born. I know what you do to Muggle-Borns you sick, old coot!" Hermione said to Dumbledore.

Albus shook his head.

"Miss Granger, I'm hoping you have the same mental facilities as your counterpart and are able to understand what I am going to explain to you after you answer a couple of questions," the Headmaster said gently.

"Counterpart?" Snape and Hermione said together.

"Yes. Now tell me, when you were looking into the mirror, what did you see? Describe it for me," Albus said to her.

"Fine. I'll play your little game, Bedaubs Mules, but you're not going to learn anything," Hermione replied. "I saw myself. My hair was frizzy, I didn't have any style whatsoever, and I was wearing . . . ugh . . . Gryffindor colors. It was disgusting."

Snape blinked at the witch's venom when she said this. Gryffindor colors disgusting? Now that he looked at her, he noticed her hair was rather soft and curling, and her face was nicely made up. She actually looked rather pretty, quite unlike the Hermione he knew. Then he realized that this wasn't that Hermione at all.

"What was that mirror supposed to show you, Miss Granger?" Albus asked her.

"What do you mean? It's the Mirror of Noisreva. It shows what I have the most aversion to, and believe me, I didn't want to be what I saw in that mirror. It was me at my worst," Hermione said. "I'd never be a bloody Gryffindor. I'd slit my own throat first."

That settled it. This was NOT Hermione Granger, at least not the Hermione they knew.

Snape stared down at her.

"Are you . . . a Slytherin?" he asked her with deceptive softness.

"From birth," Hermione replied proudly, "I am of the noble house of Salazar Slytherin."

Snape looked as if he were going to throw up.

"Dear gods," he breathed, then looked at Albus.

"Headmaster, how is this possible?" he asked the wizard.

"Well, Severus. There is another reason the Mirror of Erised is kept in seclusion. It does show what we most desire, but it is also a kind of window to parallel worlds. Worlds that mirror our own, but are slightly different in makeup. There are an endless amount of these worlds, each exploring the different possibilities of a single existence and adding to the 'Collective Mind' as it were. Universal omniscience comes at a price, and we serve a higher purpose in the larger scheme of things. Normally, these parallel worlds are kept separated . . . but in this case---"

Albus looked at Hermione now, who was staring back at him, a bit of fear on her face.

" ---in this case, two versions of the same person looked into magical mirrors at the same time, thus connecting and causing what is called the 'Ripple Effect.' The two alternate universes coincided at that moment, and the two reflections must have come into contact with each other. Did you touch the mirror, Miss Granger?"

"Yes," Hermione said in a whisper, "and I felt powerful magic wash over me."

Albus nodded.

"You exchanged places with your counterpart. You are in her world, and she . . . is in yours," Albus said gently. "In this world, Hermione Granger is a Gryffindor. And in this world, I am no Dark Lord. I fight on the side of Good. The Dark Lord is a wizard named 'Voldemort.' He was once known as 'Tom Riddle.'"

"Tom Riddle?" Hermione gasped. "That just can't be!"

"And why not?" Snape asked her.

Hermione looked up at him with pride.

"Because Tom Riddle is the greatest Headmaster that Hogwarts has ever seen," she declared. "And the greatest wizard ever born!"

Albus stared at the witch in disbelief, as Snape pinched his nose.

Yes, this was just what they needed at Hogwarts. A Muggle-Born, pom-pom waving cheerleader for Voldemort.

Snape shook his head as he looked down at the defiant witch . . . a Slytherin no less.

This was going to get worse long before it got better.

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A/N: Just had to write a little more for this. Thanks for reading.