Hermione darted across the narrow alleyway, struggling for breath as the cold air irritated her throat and nose. She walked briskly past the various shops she passed, all of them boarded up and darkened. A light snow came down from the dull gray sky. As the first snowflake fell, a tear rolled down her cheek, feeling warm in the bitter cold. So much had happened in the past few years . . . it seemed as if darkness would be here to stay forever. The chosen one was gone.

Another hot tear fell from her eye; another memory passed through her troubled mind as she walked past a largish store that was boarded up. She paused, not being able to resist the urge to look back at days so long gone. A cold, gray marker stood in front of the door. Bending down to take a closer look, Hermione fished in her pocket for something she had been saving for quite a while, something she had smuggled from the shop standing behind the grave she was now visiting. Successfully retrieving the small object, she placed it on the ground in front of the grave.

The bright-looking candy flower dissolved the thin layer of snow around the grave, then illuminating the engraving on the cold stone:


GEORGE WEASLEY
DIED JUNE 13TH, 2008
FOR A VALIANT CAUSE
REST IN PEACE

Hermione breathed in a whisper to the strange-looking flower, “Tell him that Ron misses him. Tell him that Fred misses him. Tell him that Ginny misses him. Tell him that I miss him,� she paused here, breathing deeply. “And tell him to inform Harry that we all miss him, too.�

The flower dived deep into the ground, planting its roots past some unseen magical boundary – the boundary into one-way communication with those no longer with us. It would deliver a deceased George the message; rather ironically as George had invented the flower in the first place. He wouldn’t be pleased to find out that Ron had let Hermione take one outside on the house.

Hermione then hurried away, not looking back at Fred and George’s old shop or the dismal grave that rested in front of it, passing through Diagon Alley, not even paying attention to the closed shops, grasping a heavy object in her left hand and her worn handbag in the other.

She exited the row of out-of-business shops and went into the Leaky Cauldron, now closed for good with out even as much as a front door – Hermione walked out of the old pub and flagged down a taxi – apparation would cause her to be noticed, now with the new and much more immense dark networking system.

“Where to, ma’am?� asked a scruffy-looking man in the front seat of the taxi. “It’s Christmas Eve, you should be getting home to your family now, yes?� he half-suggested, half-questioned.

“To Downtown Cambridge, please, if you’d be so kind,� Hermione requested in a soft voice.

“Aww, you know, I got a family to go home to tonight too, but I guess I could make the trip – you have to pay extra.�

“That’s fine,� said Hermione in a calm voice, pulling out a 50-pound note. “Here, take it, just take me to Cambridge.�

“Hey, thanks, lady,� said the driver, mumbling under his breath, “Some Christmas bonus, this is the only one who tipped at all.�

He sped off into the street, the sky darkening. As they passed through brightly lit cities, Hermione felt her spirits rise. The ride was quiet apart from the occasional question from the driver about Hermione’s family, her job, etc. until the very end of the ride.

“So, what do you have in that package there? Looks like a present,� said the driver, smiling and noticing the parcel under Hermione’s arm.

Hermione said briskly, “It’s a present for my friend.� She seemed to not want to talk about it much more then that.

The driver, noticing the change in the atmosphere, said to her, “What is it? I promise I won’t open it and spoil the surprise.�

“Nothing really, just a little gift –“

“Aww, come on, you can tell me,� he pressed, interrupting.

Hermione searched her mind for an alibi. She hadn’t planned to make up a story – she doubted the driver would notice it. Regretting this and internally cursing, she made up the first thing that came to mind about Christmas: “It’s a fruitcake from my mother. She wants me to give it to the rest of my family.� Leaning forward for effect, quickly adding on to the story to make it believable, she added, “It tastes like dirt and is as hard as a rock. We just tell her we love it so she won’t cook for us over Easter.�

“Aah,� exclaimed the driver, clearly satisfied with this. “It does look like it is pretty hard!� And it was true – the parcel was very hard and shaped almost like a loaf of fruitcake that had gotten messed up somewhere in the cooking process, with small lumps bulging out here and there. Hermione sighed with relief, unnoticed by the driver.

The driver coasted to a stop outside a downtown shop, and leaned towards Hermione. “Stephan Manning. Pleased to meet you, Miss –“

“Granger,� Hermione completed his sentence for him in a gentle voice.

“Aah, right, Miss Granger. If you ever need a ride somewhere in London, look me up. Have a very happy Christmas Eve.�

As she stepped out from the car in the middle of town, the driver asked, “’you sure this is where you want me to drop you off?�

“Yes, this is fine, thank you,� she replied briskly, striding off into the night, away from the driver, from the outside world.

A moment later, she arrived upon a smallish but comfortable-looking brick house with a fire burning brightly inside and an appetizing smell wafting outside.

Hermione rung the doorbell, and heard a familiar voice inside say, “It’s Hermione! Hey, everyone, it’s Hermione!� Hermione smiled outside the door as the person who possessed the voice flung the door open and held her in a warm embrace.

She was finally home.

“So, Hermione, how have you been?� asked Mr. Weasley, looking worn and tired from the last few chaotic years at the Ministry, which was now held under strict regulations and in secret because of the recent takeover of the magic world by dark forces.

“I’ve been alright, thank you,� said Hermione politely.

“You know, I told Molly to let me buy this house, so near to the muggles – it’s not suspicious with the dark wizards, it’s comfortable to live in, and you know how I’m fascinated with muggle objects –“

“Hermione, where were you so late? We were getting worried about you,� spoke a woman with bright pink spiky hair. As she carried a platter of chocolate frogs into the room, a man with grayish hair followed her.

“Hi Tonks, hi Lupin, how’ve you been lately?� asked Hermione as she took a chocolate frog and pocketed it.

“We’ve been fine, thank you, Hermione,� spoke Lupin. “I trust that you’ve been doing well, correct?�

“Pretty well, thank you,� replied Hermione politely.

A tall, red-haired man entered the room with a mixed expression on his face somewhere between happiness and awkwardness.

“Hi, Hermione,� he said as he sat down in a chair across the room from the comfortable-looking armchair that she was relaxing in. From here he proceeded to look down at his fingers, frowning occasionally and occupying himself in this way, avoiding the gaze of Hermione.

A few minutes later, after the conversation had died down a bit, Hermione spoke to the man who was so busy picking at his cuticles. “So, Ronald, how have you been lately?�

He looked up, clearly uncomfortable with the situation that he was in. Although he didn’t show it, he was internally regretful that he had been called “Ronald� instead of “Ron.� He replied quietly, “I’ve been okay.�

Since the last time Hermione had seen him, he had lost more weight and was unbelievably thin, clearly still depressed about his brothers’ death. Bill had died a year ago from unexpected side effects from the werewolf bites he had received six years ago. Percy had disappeared two years ago, and although it was possible that he could still be living, it was so unlikely that no one bothered to think otherwise. And the death of his other brother, George, had impacted him the most, as it was the first close family member of his that had ever died. To make matters worse, his father was in constant danger of being killed by one of the dark wizards because his affiliation with the Ministry of Magic.

And on top of it all, his best friend had died six months ago.

“What do you mean you’re alright, Ronald?� scorned a short woman with flaming red hair who walked into the room just as he had completed his sentence. She had been the one who greeted Hermione at the door. “You’re as thin as a piece of paper!�

“Mom, I’m fine,� said Ron, embarrassed. He looked back down at his fingers, away from the gaze of Hermione, which he was sure was full of pity for him. He didn’t want pity.

He wanted understanding.

He dreamed of a day when happiness abounded and everything was all right . . .

* * *

Walking down the street, Harry by my side, I had to bring up an issue of concern:

“Harry, what if – You-Know-Who – kills you, like in the prophecy? What will happen then?�

Harry clenched his teeth. “I’ll kill him. Nothing can stop me. I can kill him. I will kill him. Trust me.�

“I have my confidence in you Harry, but, hypothetically, what if he defeats you instead? Some of my brothers have died, Harry,� I paused here, holding back tears, and continued: “Some of them are dead. I thought they’d always be there. What will happen if he kills you, Harry? Will he take over for good?�

“He won’t kill me. If he does, I’ll take him with me.�

“But the prophecy –“

“I don’t care about the prophecy!� said Harry, clearly angered. Then realizing that he had hurt Ron, he was filled with remorse. “I’m sorry, Ron, I – I just need to face him. He killed so many that were so close to me, and, I don’t want to think of death right now.�

“I hope that everything’s alright,� I said, only realizing how ironic that was now.

* * *

“ . . . and he eats less than a fly!� ranted Mrs. Weasley to Lupin, jerking Ron out of his reverie.

“Mum, it’s fine, I’m fine –“ Ron attempted to stop his mother from embarrassing him in front of his former professor, and Hermione.

“No, it is not fine, Ronald! You need to be strong in these times,� said Mrs. Weasley darkly. “You never know if you would be put in a position where a few extra pounds could save your life!�

“Like what, Mom?� challenged Ron.

As Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to speak, a red-haired young woman walked into the room. She had also become very thin, not unlike Ron, because she had become very attached to someone who had recently died, someone who was supposed to save the whole wizarding community.

“Hi, Mum,� she said quietly as she sat down in a chair near Hermione. “Hi, Hermione. Long time no see,� she spoke to Hermione as a faint smile crossed her face.

“Hi, Ginny. How are you?� Hermione asked considerately.

“I could be better,� said Ginny, with the faint smile lingering on her face just long enough to accidentally let Hermione know that she was trying to be stronger than she really was.

Hermione sympathized with her. She inquired softly, so that no one else could hear other than Ginny, “You’re still upset about Harry, aren’t you?�

The smile dropped immediately from her face as Ginny looked down and folded her feeble hands in her lap. “Of course. But we all have to be strong,� she said in a depressed voice. “You know, I just never thought it would happen.�

“I never did either, you know,� said Hermione in a distant voice, regretting most everything that had happened with her life since that terrible day, that cold, dismal Friday night . . .

“All right, everyone, come into the dining room and we’ll all have something to eat!� suggested Mrs. Weasley. Everyone stood up and walked into the dining room, except for Ron.

Hermione was just about to go into the dining room when she turned around. “Are you all right Ron?� she asked him politely.

Ron looked up, happy that she was using his preferred name again. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m coming.� A hint of a smile crossed his face as he stood up and walked with Hermione into the dining room.