You and I? Impossible

Answers

" Everyone is the creator of their destiny"

Sallustius.

Five o'clock. Hermione unlocked the door, allowing her Transfiguration teacher to sneak inside.

She was in disarray, and scruffy: under different circumstances, she would never have shown herself like this in the presence of a professor, much less her favourite teacher.

-Good afternoon Miss Granger, here is the weekly program, in the hope that you can recover as soon as possible-

Given the parchment to the young Gryffindor, she scrutinized it, considering whether to tell her what happened or not.

Reluctantly she kept her mouth shut.

- Good day- she concluded austerely.

Clack.

She reread the program several times, then calmly stood in front of her small library to choose the suitable volumes.

She grabbed the tome of Charms and put it back on the desk.

She was about to take another book: she felt something tremble.

She brought the image into focus.

They were her hands.

She began to sob, terrified with dismay.

She fell into a swoon.

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-Does he breathe!?-

- Yes Mr. Weasley, ease your anxiety-

replied Dumbledore quietly.

- Has he come back at least once? Did he mumble something?-

- No, at least not in our presence-

- Well, apply him a restorative ointment; Minerva, find Severus. There is no time to lose.

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She threw books on the burnished wooden table here and there, almost suffering from schizophrenia.

She glided from side to side at lightning speed.

Making sure no one was looking at her, she crouched on the checkerboard floor, then moved a tile with no little effort.

She took another look at the door. No movement.

She did not delay any longer.

She threw herself into the trapdoor.

She closed her eyes, concentrating only on the friction of her clothing against the cold stone.

As soon as she reached the end of the tunnel, she leapt onto some wooden planks.

Sigh.

As soon as she composed herself, she hurried to take all the vials of potions she secretly prepared there.

Wavering, she collected most of the vials: she could not take everything with her, she could not let them bring to light the skills she had acquired in that period, those preparations were the clear proof.

She did not linger any longer: she moved away a few meters, to reach the ladders she built to bring her back to the surface, with a slight spiral movement with her wand she whispered: - Bombarda -

The shelter began to collapse on it - she calculated everything.

Squeezing out of the trapdoor, she made sure to seal it properly.