Little did Hermione know that today would not be like all others. Yes, she woke up promptly at six in the morning like most days. She pulled on her Unspeakable robes-like most days. She even said goodbye to Crookshanks before throwing floo powder into the fire and stepping in. All in all, a perfectly normal start to a perfectly normal day. She could use normality, however. After spending her teenage years on the run and helping take down the darkest wizard of all time, Hermione thought she was quite right in deserving a normal life. She'd been enjoying one for over ten years. It was a pity that would change.

—

Hermione stepped out of the floo and brushed ash off her robes. The ministry was already crowded with witches and wizards rushing to and fro. Soon, Hermione joined them. A woman called out to her in greeting. A young man stared in awe as she passed. Hermione paid no mind as she made her way to the lift. When one was a part of the Golden Trio, staring came with the territory.

"Department of Mysteries, if you please, Charles," Hermione said to the older gentleman manning the lift.

"Of course, miss."

"Charles," Hermione replied with a laugh, "I've told you to call me Hermione."

"Yes, yes. Of course, miss." Charles gave a wizened smile, "It's a shame that I keep ignoring you."

"You're terrible," Hermione admonished as the lift rushed through the ministry before abruptly stopping.

When the gate opened, a few people made their way in, including a lanky man with a mop of ginger hair. When he saw Hermione, he beamed and moved toward her.

"Now, Hermione, isn't today your day off?"

"Now, Ronald, aren't you supposed to be with a heavily pregnant wife?" Hermione said, mimicking Ron's voice, laughing as his ears turned red.

"That was until Daphne told me to stop babying her. I apparently didn't listen and she forced me to head to work at wand point. Bloody mental that one is."

"It'll only get worse once the baby arrives, you know."

"Once little Verga arrives this will all be over. Did you know she's been making me run out to get Fortescue's every night for the past week?" Ron said incredulous, clearly expecting Hermione to be on his side.

"What a struggle," Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Have your mum come over and help Daphne."

"She's part of the problem! Nightmares, the lot of them. I don't know how Harry did it, popping out kid after kid." Just as Ron finished speaking, the lift slammed to a halt and the doors opened.

"Those are your nephews and niece you're talking about, and technically it was Ginny doing the popping. Now, if you excuse me, I have very important work," Hermione said as she delicately stepped out, wishing Charles a good day.

"You still haven't told me why you're even here in the first place!" Ron called from the lift, causing Hermione to give a small chuckle.

Hermione's shoes clicked down the hallway as she approached the door to the Department of Mysteries. Blue light glinted off her bushy hair and the ominous feeling she once felt when approaching the department had long since faded. Now, there was only excitement and curiosity.

She pushed open the door to the round entrance chamber. As an Unspeakable, the area no longer tried to confuse her. She pushed through the door leading into the thought chamber. There, a man stood with a quick quotes quill and parchment floating beside him. On a small metal table in front of the man was a basin containing a brain. He turned and jumped when Hermione's shoe made a particularly loud click.

"Oh, Ms. Granger, it's you," the man said with the slightest of accents.

"Hello, Mr. LeBlanc. Is Professor Croaker in?"

"Indeed he-No! Back!" LeBlanc prodded the brain in front of him, which had been slowly working its way off the table. "As I was saying, he's over in his office."

"Thank you, Sir," Hermione said, holding back a laugh. "I'll leave you to your rogue brain."

"Yes, and close the door on your way out!" Hermione left the room, pointedly shutting the door behind her.

With the door firmly shut, Hermione faced the entrance chamber, mentally counted the doors, and opened the door for the Hall of Prophecies, holding back a shiver. Even though the rest of the department ceased to bother her, just the sight of this room made her uncomfortable. It had been fourteen years since the battle, but she still remembered the crash of prophecies and the ghostly echoes of their contents. She shook herself to regain composure and headed to the very back of the hall where a little office stood.

Knocking on the door, she pushed it open after hearing Professor Croaker's quiet voice. Carefully stepping over various odds and ends, Hermione approached a rickety desk that bent from all the weight stacked on top. Sitting at the desk was Professor Croaker, an ancient, hunched-over man who still carried a youthful energy. It appeared he was twiddling with a time-turner.

"Professor? You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, yes. Sit down, Granger," Croaker said, never looking up from the contraption.

"Is-is this about the time turner, Sir? I only ask because it's my area of study."

"Oh, no. Wiggins just brought forth an interesting hypothesis about the composition of the device, and I'm trying to map it out." With that, Croaker turned to face Hermione. "The reason I've called you here today is due to you being one of our foremost experts on ancient runes. We recently acquired a text that needs translating. From what we've been able to understand, it involves the veil in the Death Chamber."

"The-the Death Chamber? Sir, I'm currently assigned to time, before that, love. I'm not sure I'm qualified to work there."

"Nonsense, Granger! You received an O on your N.E.W.T.S. and have already helped in the translating of several texts."

"Will anyone else be working on it?"

"Unfortunately, no. I've already distributed newer assignments to those available"

"But Smith? He's been in charge of the Death Chamber for almost thirty years now."

"He will merely monitor. I will deliver the text to you by owl tonight, and give you an opportunity to look over our current translations. Questions?"

"No, sir. Thank you!" Hermione was gob smacked. The Death Chamber was one of the least researched areas of the Department of Mysteries. Unlocking the secrets of the veil? That would answer so many questions. Not only on the nature of death itself but the secrets of what lies beyond the tattered curtain. Hermione gave a start. Sirius…

—

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. Hermione went back to the time room, but she couldn't focus on her work. Her thoughts were too occupied by what Professor Croaker had said. Eventually, her shift ended. She packed up and said good-bye to other Unspeakables she passed and made her way out of the department. By the time she left, the rest of the ministry had already cleared out. Only a few random witches and wizards here and there walked about.

The underground nature of the Ministry left her unaware of the precise time of day, but by the time she made it home, the sun was well set. Sighing with relief as she kicked off her shoes, Hermione waved her wand about her and caused her hair to pile atop her head. Continuing, she shrugged off her robes while making her way into the bedroom. Hermione pulled on a ratty vest and shorts before being greeted by an incessant tapping noise against the window.

"I'm coming. I'm coming," Hermione said, sounding tired from the day.

On the other side of the window, a beautiful barn owl flapped its wings. In its talons was a heavy package that could only contain the text Professor Croaker said he would send. Hermione let in the owl, who immediately dropped the package on her bed before flying over to the mini roost she had set up. Wrapped in yellowing parchment, the package seemed small and insignificant.

Hermione carefully pulled apart the wrappings and uncovered a beautifully bound leather book. The cover was a faded emerald green with a Runespoor embossed on the front. Below, stood three runes. Hermione carefully read them. Raidho- travel, disruption, dislocation. Algiz- defence, warding off evil, guardian. Perthro- knowledge of one's destiny, knowledge of future matters, determining the future or your path.

Hermione read the few pages of notes. The previous translator hypothesized the mysterious veil being more than just the separation between life and death. She flipped through the text until she found the illustration mentioned in the notes. The three runes from the cover were depicted as being engraved on the stone of the arch framing the veil. What could it possibly mean?

Just as Hermione was about to grab her own parchment to begin taking notes, a curious noise sounded from the sitting room. She heard the sputter of her fire and the cough of a man whose lungs accidentally filled with ash. Rolling her eyes, Hermione made her way out to the fire and scoffed at the man whose face poked out.

"Harry Potter, you are thirty years old and you still haven't learned to hold your breath with floo powder."

"Nice to see you too, Hermione," Harry said with mock annoyance. "Mind me popping in? It'll only be a mo'"

"Of course! Just let me clear the way." Hermione moved from in front of the fire and let Harry step out of the flames and into her sitting room. She watched him brush off his robes and fix his askew glasses.

"Cuppa?" Hermione asked, moving over to the kitchen.

"Ta! Make it a strong one!"

"Poor auror being overworked?"

"More like poor father being overworked! James won't stop bouncing off the walls and accidentally growing his hair back every time Gin gives him a hair cut. Well, he says it's an accident," Harry groaned, slamming down into a chair.

"And Albus?"

"He's the only one that seems to love me still. Lily is in her terrible twos and won't stop tearing up the place. She's also displaying some magic already," Harry frowned at that.

Hermione returned from the kitchen with two steaming mugs. "Are you sure?" She asked. "Two is a bit early for magic."

"Positive. She was over at the Burrow today and Molly sent me a patronus in a tizzy, saying that she couldn't find Lily anywhere," Harry said, accepting the proffered tea.

"And where was she?" Hermione inquired, sitting down.

"Floating above her poor gran's head! Nearly had a heart attack when I was told." Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Enough about me. Tell me something completely unrelated to children and quidditch."

"Ginny still abroad?" Hermione asked, sympathetic.

"Talent scouting. Just hearing quaffle makes me miss her. She'll be back tomorrow thankfully."

"Let me know if you need a helping hand, will you?" Hermione waited for Harry to nod in agreement before continuing, "and I do have some news actually. I've been assigned a new project."

"What on?"

"…The Death Chamber," Hermione saw Harry stiffen. "More specifically the veil."

"Hermione…" Harry trailed off.

"Oh, I know! It's ever so exciting but at the same time…" Hermione paused. "Harry, what if I found a way to…you know…bring him back?

Harry audibly swallowed before nervously chugging his tea.

"I would check everything to make sure! I just can't shake the feeling that there's something I could do," Hermione continued, starting to ramble.

"Hermione," Harry put down his cup and place a sympathetic hand on Hermione's knee, "I would love more than anything to have Sirius back, but what if he isn't the same? Death magic is incredibly dark stuff. What if he comes back…incomplete?"

"Like an inferius? I would double and triple check all the translations before attempting anything. That's what I've been assigned, by the way. Translating that is."

"I just…I don't know."

"Me too. I'll examine everything." Hermione looked directly into Harry's eyes, her expression fierce. "If there's anything I can do, by god I'm going to try."

"Just be careful?"

Hermione laughed, "since when haven't I been careful? I'll update you on any progress, okay?"

With that out of the way, the topic of conversation slowly slipped away from work and towards the mundane. It was never stilted. Harry and Hermione easily went from topic to topic. Discussing new potion advancements, remarking on the new shop that opened in Diagon Alley, and taking the Mickey out of each other. They spoke with the ease of a decades-long friendship. When the clock on Hermione's mantle struck seven, Harry stood, surprised at how fast time had gone.

"That's my cue," He said with an easy-going grin.

Harry grabbed some floo powder and threw it into the fire. With one foot in the emerald flames, Harry twisted his body towards Hermione. "You're coming to the Burrow tomorrow, right? Molly is trying to have the whole family 'round. I know James and Albus are dying to hang out with their Aunt."

"Of course I'm coming! Wouldn't miss it. Six tomorrow?"

"And you better not be even a minute late!" With that, Harry fully submerged himself in emerald flames, shouted "The Burrow!" and he was off to pick up the kids.

Hermione smiled at her friend's disappearing form and watched the flames turn from green to orange. She picked up the mugs and brought them into the kitchen. After a quick scourgify, they were placed back into the cupboard. A loud purring sounded behind Hermione before a big, orange puff jumped onto the countertop.

"Oh, Crookshanks, you silly cat," Hermione said, picking up the cat despite his outraged meows. "Don't be like that! Come along now. We have work to do."

—

Hermione spent much of the night examining page after page but felt like she was getting nowhere. Half of the runes seemed to be a combination of three or more, and the few runes that she did understand made no sense contextually. By the time the clock struck midnight, she was beyond frustrated. She had placed the book on its side, upside down, and tried reading it backward. All to no avail. The only reason she hadn't yet screamed in a fit of rage was the presence of Crookshanks purring atop Hermione's lap. She would figure this out even if it took months! Surely, there was some angle she wasn't seeing.

Looking at the clock, Hermione resigned herself to revisiting the book in the morning. Perhaps with a fresh outlook. She held Crookshanks to her chest as she cleared her bed and shut off the lights. Tomorrow would tell her everything. She hoped…

—

Tomorrow told her nothing. Hermione spent all of work attempting to figure out the translation. There was a realization waiting to occur, but Hermione couldn't find hide nor hair of it. It was only day two of having the book and it was driving her mad. She visited Croaker during her shift and all he did was reply to her frustrations with an enigmatic smile and a "give it time."

When Hermione returned home, she went back to it. Studying the runes, turning the pages every which way. The only message she had been able to translate on the veil page was engrave, for Christ's sake! At this rate, she'd be eighty before making any real progress. The symbol after engrave was a complicated amalgamation of at least three runes. All Hermione could find in the mess was Fehu, which indicated some sort of failure. The only failure Hermione saw was herself.

She decided to put the runes to the back of her mind. No use trying to figure out the meanings when frustrated. Besides, she had a nice, relaxing night at the Weasley's ahead of her. Hermione all but threw the old book onto her side table before standing up, joints cracking as she stretched. She quickly showered, spelled her hair into some semblance of order, and put on a muggle outfit.

"Crookshanks," Hermione called, listening for meowing. "We've a date! James would be devastated if you didn't make an appearance."

The grumpy looking cat meandered into the sitting room, appearing as though this simple gesture was a great ordeal. His expression did not change in the slightest when Hermione picked him up. In fact, Hermione thought he looked even more disgruntled. Laughing at his expression, Hermione stepped into the fire with the cat and shouted "The Burrow!"

The fireplaces of other magical dwellings flitted in and out of Hermione's vision. The process was simply nauseating at times. Better than apparating she supposed; Crookshanks really despised that method of transportation. Right now he was buried into her chest, claws clinging for dear life. In the blink of an eye, though, Hermione stepped out of the Weasley fireplace.

"Crookshanks!" James shouted, looking stretched out like a beanpole and sporting a grin full of missing teeth.

"Auntie Hermione!" Hermione sarcastically shouted in response, grinning as she handed the rattled cat to James.

"I guess you're good too," James replied sheepishly as Hermione gave the boy a kiss on his cheek.

"I'm glad I have your enthusiastic approval. Now, where's your gran at?"

"Oh, she's in the kitchen. Can I take him over to Victoire?"

"Yes, but be careful!" Hermione said, but James had run out of the room as soon as he heard "yes" leave Hermione's lips.

Oh, the energy of children. Hermione made her way into the kitchen, smiling at the now stuffed Weasley clock. What once used to contain just Mr and Mrs Weasley and all their children now contained the spouses of said children, the grandchildren, and Hermione. Needless to say, it was quite the full and busy clock.

Hermione entered the kitchen where a grey-haired Mrs Weasley stood with Ginny and a very pregnant Daphne, who sat with her swollen feet propped up and a bucket of peeled potatoes next to her. Upon hearing someone enter the kitchen, Mrs Weasley turned and gave a warm smile before enveloping Hermione in a hug.

"It's been too long dear!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed. "You're looking a bit peaky, love. I hope that fancy Unspeakable job of yours isn't being too rough on you."

"Oh, no. Not at all Molly. I've just an exciting project that's keeping me up." Hermione moved to hug Ginny and Daphne. "It's great to see you all. Looking excited to next month, Daph?"

"You have no idea," Daphne laughed. "It's not even the baby driving me nuts, it's all my dear husband. I keep having him go to Fortescue's so I can have some peace and quiet. The ice cream is a plus too."

"Ron was complaining about that to me!" Hermione chuckled, realizing that Ron had been played like a fiddle. "That man always forgets he married a Slytherin."

"And until he remembers, I see no reason to stop getting my daily helping of ice cream and quiet."

"You're terrible," Ginny admonished, setting a finished plate down at the table and setting a warming charm on it. "I never made Harry go out on pointless tasks. He just did all the baby proofing for me while I got to go out and get some quiet."

"Ice cream is not pointless!" Daphne exclaimed.

"Daphne's quite right, dear. When I was pregnant with you, your father was making multiple trips a week to Honeydukes," Mrs Weasley added.

"You're all terrible," Hermione joked.

"You'll see soon enough, dear," Mrs Weasley replied.

"Not that soon!"

"Why? What happened to that fellow you were seeing? The Scottish one. McKinnon was it?"

"John and I didn't see quite eye to eye."

"Oh, that's a shame. He seemed like such a nice young man. You know…" Mrs Weasley entered matchmaking mode. "Angelina has an older and single brother. He's nice, handsome, has a stable job…"

"I'm not really looking to date right now."

"Oh, nonsense! I'll invite him round sometime and introduce you. He was a fifth year in Hufflepuff when you started."

Realizing that resisting Mrs Weasley was futile, Hermione simply agreed and gave a vague "lovely" that caused Ginny to snigger. The women idly chatted for a while longer as they cooked. It was a nice break from Hermione's job and that bloody book. Of course, the silence couldn't last forever. The patter of feet sounded and little Albus walked in wearing a pout.

"Why didn't you say hi to me, Auntie?" Albus asked Hermione who bent down to look at him.

"Well, I had to help make your food didn't I, Al?" Albus gave a grin and flung himself at Hermione grabbing onto her sleeve and dragging her out of the kitchen.

"I guess that's my cue to leave!" Hermione laughed. "Are you taking me to the garden, love?"

"Mhmm," Albus said, solemnly shaking his head. "I have to have a chat with you."

"A chat?" Hermione questioned, thinking it was quite the formal choice of words for a four-year-old.

"That's what mum says whenever she's mad at dad."

"And are you mad at me?"

"Yes, I am." Albus mustered his voice to sound as stern as possible, not realizing the fact Hermione was holding back a smile.

Albus continued dragging Hermione out into the garden where everyone else was. Bill was tossing Dominique into the air while Fleur shouted at him in panicked French. George was laughing as he and Angelina chased Victoire, Teddy, and Roxanne. Charlie stood over by Fred, telling a story that involved roaring like a dragon. Percy was telling off an amused Ron and a snickering James while little Molly mimed Percy. It was perfect chaos.

Albus led Hermione over to Harry. "Dad, tell Auntie off like you do when I leave my toys out!"

"Why would I do that, Al?" Harry asked as he bounced a two-year-old Lily on his lap.

"Because she didn't tell me she was here!" Albus complained.

"He said we need to have a chat like Ginny and you have."

"Is that so?" Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione before straightening his face. "That was very wrong of you Hermione."

Albus began to giggle. "Now tell her you're disappointed!"

"And I'm very disappointed in you," Harry added as per Albus' request.

"Good. I forgive you now," Albus said, hugging Hermione and running off to join Victoire, Teddy, and Roxanne in running away from his Aunt and Uncle.

Hermione collapsed into the chair next to Harry. "You know, we used to be that energetic. What happened?"

"We got old?" Harry suggested.

"That's right. And how is my little Lily pad?" Hermione said, turning to baby Lily, her voice spiking up a tad.

"Hermy, Hermy, Hermy!" Lily exclaimed, repeating Hermione's butchered name.

"Her-my-oh-nee," Hermione said clearly.

"Hermy!" Lily replied, giggling like mad.

"You'll get there someday, kiddo."

"Yeah, she's really into repetition right now. And soft. She's describing everything as soft," Harry said.

As if to prove Harry's point, Lily grabbed hold of Hermione's hair and began to pet it while shouting "Soft! Hermy soft!"

"See?"

"She does have a way with words," Hermione laughed as Lily continued to play with her hair while Harry and Hermione idly chatted. One by one, the kids tired out and as if sensing they were on the verge of declaring boredom, Mrs Weasley came outside to herd everyone back in.

Dinner was delicious, as always when Mrs Weasley was the chef. Hermione practically moaned with every bite. Sure, she did just fine for herself and considered herself a decent cook, but this had nostalgia involved. One bite and she transformed into her younger, bushier haired, buck-toothed self. When pudding came around, Hermione was stuffed but sheer will alone let her eat a slice of treacle tart. Looking around, she saw the same did not hold true for Harry, who seemed incredibly focused on inhaling his slice while Ginny looked at him fondly. James, still holding Crookshanks on his lap, followed his father's lead.

After everyone finished eating, Mrs Weasley declared one of her many relatives should do the dishes in her stead. Bill and Hermione volunteered, letting everyone else go outside to put together a game of kiddie quidditch. The work went relatively easy, both Hermione and Bill were dab hands at charms. The two joked around and chatted about children and work while they watched the dishes scourgify and march themselves into their proper places.

"It's not so bad," Bill said referring to cleaning up the kitchen.

"Not at all. Could be the muggle way, scrubbing them all."

"Oh, mum only does that if she's sore with one of us. Forty years old and she still punishes me like I'm twelve," Bill joked. He moved his arms up to tie his hair back, a simple bracelet with a wood carved charm was on his right wrist.

"Same with my parents. I'm afraid it's never going to ch-"Hermione stopped in her tracks when she saw Bill's bracelet. "Bill, what's that symbol?"

Bill finished tying up his hair and looked down at his wrist. "Oh, this? Mate of mine I worked with in Egypt made it. Chap's big on runes and gave me this to help ward away evil and all that junk."

"What rune is it? I've never seen one like it before." Hermione was lying. In fact, she had seen one almost identical to it and it was written on a page in the book currently sitting on her side table.

"Actually a combination from what I remember. See here?" Bill asked tracing the outline of one rune. "This here's Fehu for good luck. This one is made within Fehu, and it's Raidho. Supposed to help with seeing the right path to take and making that decision. Then Fehu and Raidho work together to make Kenaz, which is about power and knowledge. He said when they're combined like that it makes each one stronger and is supposed to help me out. Think he must've been right seeing as I never got into a spot of trouble when I worked out there."

"Yes, of course! I-are we done with the dishes? I have to head out. Just realized something." Hermione hugged Bill. "Oh, you're just fantastic! Tell Fleur to kiss you loads for me!"

Hermione practically ran out of the kitchen, leaving a bemused and concerned Bill in her wake. She went out into the garden where she made her goodbyes, took Crookshanks from James, and apparated away. Hermione held her breath as she experienced the sensation of being pushed through a tube and only winced slightly as Crookshanks clung on for dear life.

When she landed in her flat, she made a beeline to the book and opened it up. With a parchment next to her, she separated the runes. Fehu, Raidho, Kenaz. She looked deeper and found Algiz, Wunjo, and Thurisaz. One mark remained and she found Gebo. She's solved it. Combined, though, the meanings were much different than those created by the rune Bill wore.

Fehu created a sign of hope and success, creation and destruction. Raidho created travel and choosing the right path. Kenaz created the power to create your own reality. Algiz created protection against evil, a shield. Wunjo created joy, comfort, prosperity. Thurisaz created conflict and change. Gebo created sacrifice and generosity.

Hermione looked at the rest of the text. Engrave at the base of the veil. That must be it! Another section said intent and restoration. She figured it out! My god, she could kiss Bill over and over again! Hermione threw on her Unspeakable robes and fastened a cloak over them. Grabbing a copious amount of floo powder, she hurled the powder into the fire, causing a mist of green to appear around her while her front was illuminated emerald. Running into the flames, she shouted "Department of Ministry" and disappeared.

—

The ministry was empty except for the lone night guard manning the wand station. Hermione shifted impatiently as the wizard took her wand, verified it was hers, and slowly handed the wand back. She all but ran to the lift. She attempted to pace around the confines of the small space as it whizzed throughout the ministry. When the doors opened and a calm voice said "Department of Mysteries," Hermione ran out again. Now that she was fully alone, she had no shame in sprinting down the hall, book clutched to her chest, before opening the door to her department. In the entrance chamber, she furiously counted the doors before wrenching open the door she needed.

The room was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. The veil stood in the very centre. The fabric innocently fluttered from a non-existent breeze. As Hermione stepped closer, voices began to emanate from the veil. Whispers swirled around her. A light yet beautiful singing sounded in the air. Coming from nowhere and everywhere. Hermione put the book off to the side and opened it to the symbol.

"Flagrate," she whispered, causing a fiery rope to spew out of her wand and hit the ground. Slow and with care, Hermione began to draw the line. The more she drew, the louder the voices grew. The once beautiful song grew dark and screeched in her ear. She ignored it though and focused only on one thought. She repeated Sirius's name over and over in her head.

When she finished drawing the symbol, the voices abruptly stopped. The fiery glow of the rune seemed to call to her. All sense of logic and reason escaped her mind. Her feet moved as if on their own to step atop the rune. The whispers started again. Echoing throughout the chamber.

"Join us," They hissed.

"Enter the veil."

"Reach out to us."

"Reach out to me," Sirius's voice sounded from behind the veil. "Save me. Bring me back to Harry."

"Sirius?" Hermione called, hypnotized, arms stretched out, pushing the fabric of the veil out of the way. Further and further she moved until her face was pressed against the fabric. Wind suddenly roared throughout the chamber. It pushed against Hermione. The voices screamed at her. Her body started to siphon into the veil, changing before her eyes. Hermione's screams of fear joined the voices of the veil. Little by little, she was absorbed into the veil—into what she thought was death.

Then, it stopped.