The Mentor

Hello fellow fan fiction fans!
Thanks for checking out my very first story. I just wanted to share a couple of things with you.
First, I am not a canon addict – if you are I respect that but this will not be the story for you.
Second, I do not have a beta. I am fairly confident that I can handle the grammar and editing elements but will apologize now if I screw up with the Potter content. Feel free to correct me if I am completely off base!
Finally, I do not have a title for this story yet and am completely open to ideas. If you have one, please let me know.
Thanks for reading and I hope that you enjoy!
wishyouwere (bonus points if you know where the penname comes from!)


Prologue


Hermione gathered her gently curing hair into a simple ponytail that fell to the middle of her back in a soft cascade of honey brown ringlets. With a quick twist, her hair was contained in a professional looking bun. A glance at the charmed clock showed that she only had twenty minutes until the start of classes that morning. As it was, she had already missed breakfast. Missing the meal did not matter to Hermione. She was too excited to eat anyway.

Gathering up her black robes, she tossed them over her arm, grabbing her worn leather satchel as she headed out the door. She paused outside long enough to check that her wards were in place and then hurried off to her first class of the day.

As Hermione walked down the worn stone hallway of Hogwart’s greeting several of the portraits that called to her by name, she was flooded with memories of her earlier years at the school. Rushing to the common room before curfew, rushing to the library to grab that last book before it closed for the day, rushing to Potions class to get their before Snape arrived with his black robes flying behind him. Hermione was so lost in her musings that she almost walked right past the door to the classroom. She had time to indulge herself, and gently caressed the aged oak door, admiring the swirled brown, gold and tan tones that seemed to glow with the patina of the wood.

‘How many students have walked through this door?’ she wondered to herself. ‘How many students have stood here and known that their future was waiting on the other side of this door?’

She was one of those students. The first time she had walked through this particular door and into the Transfiguration classroom, Hermione had felt a deep tug in her belly, followed by a feeling of coming home. It was as though she had been there before, and the feeling of rightness about it made everything else click in to place. This was where she was meant to be, and she knew with absolute certainty that this was where she would end up.

There were detours, of course. Nothing was simple in her life as she worked tirelessly to be the best, the brightest, the most academically accomplished witch of her age. Her best friend was the-boy-who-lived, and that provided it’s own set of challenges. With time to consider the past, Hermione remembered that fateful day.

Hermione stood beside Harry when he had finally and forever sent the Dark Lord to his death. As Harry raised his wand to cast the final curse, Hermione realized something vital to the process. Harry’s magical power, the power that he needed to defeat Voldemort was based on all of the things that the Dark Lord did not understand; friendship, respect, compassion and love. In that moment, Hermione grabbed the hand that Harry was not using to cast the spell and willed all of her feelings of love and affection for him to give power to the spell. Severus Snape, after proving his loyalty to the Order of the Pheonix by informing them of the Dark Lord’s plans for the battle that they were currently fighting, saw what Hermione was doing and understood instantly. He firmly grabbed Harry by the shoulder and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

‘Potter,’ Snape ground out. ‘Everything rides on this moment. Your life; my life; the lives of your friends; and the very future of the magical world. You need to use your feelings for all the people you love in order to power the spell. Think of your parents, think of Sirius, think of all the people that you care about and make those feelings flow through you and in to your wand. You can do this!’

Harry has started when he felt the hand grab his shoulder, but as Severus whispered those words of encouragement, Harry felt strength flow through him. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Even casting the Patronus Charm did not come close. It was as though his heart was swelling and the warmth was pouring out through his wand arm.

The moment that Harry jumped when Severus grabbed his shoulder, Hermione had turned to look at the exchange between the two. She saw Snape lean in to whisper something to Harry. With the chaos of the fighting around them, she could not hear what was said but she saw the difference. Harry stood up straighter, pointing his wand toward Voldemort with a conviction that Hermione would never forget. In that perfect moment, she made eye contact with Severus, and smiling slightly, added her power to that of Severus and Harry.

“So little Potter,” the Dark Lord hissed. “After all of this time I am finally going to send you to join your pathetic parents in the afterlife. I have waited a long time for this moment, and I will relish it forever!”

With a quick, forceful movement of his arm, Voldemort began to cast the curse, not realizing that reminding Harry of his parents was possibly the worst thing that he could have done. Harry raised his want to meet Voldemort. At the exact same moment that both shouted the spell.

“Avada Kedavra!”

As the pulse from each curse hit, all of them were thrown back. They all fought the darkness that was threatening to overwhelm them, and they were all sure that this was the end. And it was the end for one of them.

The silence on the battlefield was deafening. Anyone not directly effected by the green blast was stunned to silence; almost as though frozen in that moment. Faintly, someone coughed and suddenly the tableau was brought back to life. Death Eaters staggered to their knees, clutching their dark marks, which had begun burning with an intensity that made the pain of receiving it pale by comparison. Several pops could be heard as Aurors began to apparate, quickly arresting the Death Eaters who were immobile with the pain burning through their bodies.

Ron rushed toward the area where the green blast had started, determined to find his friends alive. As he approached the edges of the scorched grass, he was almost afraid to look. He had gotten separated from Harry and Hermione as he followed Neville as he chased Bellatrix away from the Dark Lord. Not even aware that he was saying it out loud, Ron muttered the same thing over and over again.
“Please, please, please, please.” Ron stated hoarsely. “Please let them be OK.”

The first thing that Hermione saw as she opened her eyes was the concerned gaze of the Potions Master staring down at her. As she floated between awareness and unconsciousness, she was not sure if he gathered her close or if it was just her imagination.

As Hermione stood at the door of the classroom, lost in the past, she was not aware of the lone figure in black hiding in the shadows, watching her solemnly. Severus too was thinking of that day. In fact, he was thinking of that exact same moment when he had grabbed Hermione in a moment of panic, thinking that she was dead until he felt the soft flutter of her breath against his cheek. He held her to his heart, rocking her gently and thanking all of the gods and goddesses that this brilliant, vital and courageous woman had been saved. With a gentle kiss to her forehead, he laid her on the ground and turned to see if Potter had survived the killing curse.

Suddenly, Severus was struck with the same searing pain that had rendered the other Death Eaters useless as the Aurors had arrived. He fell to the ground, clutching his arm and moaning in agony.

That was a memory that Severus would just as soon forget, and as he mentally shook his head to bring himself back to the present, Hermione did the same. Still watching her, he noticed the single tear slip from her eye and slide down her face, skimming her cheek to fall on the collar of her robe.

That day had not been without its losses for the Order. While Harry, Hermione and Ron had survived, several other Griffyndors had not. Most of Slytherin house had either been killed or arrested, while half of the Hogwart’s staff had died defending the school and it’s students. Severus felt a deep pang of sadness thinking of the colleagues and friends that he had lost. Fighting the melancholy that frequently threatened to overtake him, he continued to watch Hermione.

Although Harry and Ron had both survived the battle with her, things between the three had not remained the same. Although she had lost several friends and housemates in the final battle, the tear that Hermione shed now was for the lost friendship with her two best friends.

It was five years since that day. Harry had lived under constant scrutiny as the-boy-who-lived only to face even more scrutiny as the-boy-who-lived-again. The constant attention and invasions of privacy finally seemed to break him, and Harry had retreated to a small island off the coast of Ireland. Although Hermione still saw Harry at least a few times a year, it was not the same as having him near all the time. He was thriving in the obscurity, and Hermione was sure that he would not want to leave it any time soon.

Ron, on the other hand, had embraced his role and the notoriety of being Harry’s best friend. What Hermione first considered to be a phase that he would quickly get over soon developed in to some alarming behaviours. As much as everyone just assumed that Hermione and Ron would end up together, it was not to be. The first time that Hermione saw Ron with a buxom blonde on each arm, staggering half dressed through the door of their apartment was the last time that she considered the possibility of any kind of future between them. Ron had hurt her, but Hermione was always surprised at how quickly she had gotten over him. Clearly, he was not the man for her.

Severus continued to watch her the entire time that she stood at the door. What he felt for the girl, no young woman, confused him. Ever since that day on the battlefield, the day that he was finally free, he no longer saw her as his student, or as the best friend of Harry Potter. To him, she had become something more.

Hermione suddenly drew her hand a way from the door, where she had absently been rubbing the soft finish while lost in her memories. Drawing back her shoulders and taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open.

This was it! Her very first day at Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not as a student this time. This time, she was at Hogwart’s as a teacher and she felt the pieces of her life start to fall in to place.