tampered with the past

The happiest time of my life lasted less than three years.

I lost Hermione.

Yes!

lost!

Losing the Hermione I thought would always be my wife.

Hermione Granger and Hermione Potter both belong to me, and belong to Harry Potter, but Hermione Weasley is destined to have no intersection with me.

Where do I start?

From the moment Hermione passed out?

or earlier?

From the day we went into seclusion?

The seeds of the disaster have already been planted, taking root and sprouting in the corners that we ignore, blooming flowers that destroy the world.

If only I had realized sooner...

If only I had realized sooner...

too late.

The monster inside me is so strong that even I can't fight it.

Yes!

Monster!

There is a real monster living inside of me.

I always thought it was a demon in my heart, it was a private thought, but I never thought that that monster was actually myself—it was my own fear, my own darkness, the second thing condensed in the dark years. yourself.

When I first saw those emerald green eyes that were exactly like mine, I thought I was dreaming.

At that time, I was working with Hermione to improve the wolf potion.

I'm not really enthusiastic about this job.

I hate potions.

While Snape was a really nice guy, that didn't take away from the fact that he loved hitting me.In five years of potions lessons, he never gave me a fair grade.

However, the other me in me is extremely enthusiastic about the improved wolf drug, and it can almost be said that he forgets to sleep and eat, and is overly fanatical.At that time, I just felt that something was wrong, but I intuitively thought that I was infected by Hermione.Until the research on potions deviated more and more from the direction Hermione and I planned.

Not therapy.

but create.

The potion that was supposed to cure werewolves turned into a drug that turned normal people into werewolves.

It was Hermione, not me, who first discovered the problem with the potion.

Because she is pregnant, Hermione has suspended the research at hand, and only occasionally comes to inspect my research progress.

"That's not right." That morning, when she was inspecting, she frowned at the notes I just finished last night. "Are you sure you didn't make a mistake? Giant's blood? It's too outrageous."

The explanation blurted out against my thinking: "It's just a prototype, fighting fire with fire, I read it in a Muggle book."

Hermione looked suspicious.

But right now she was feeling sick and mentally weak, so she didn't ask any more questions.

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