The room was so dark she couldn’t see more than a foot in front of her face. Five of them waited in silence, their eyes penetrating nothing through the darkness. They had been waiting there for over an hour, though it seemed far longer. The whole time they had sat in silence, fearing the words that might be said. Nobody wanted to voice the fears, the deafening horrors in their minds. She couldn’t see them, but knew that they were still in the same place that they’d been before the sun set.

A man in his early forties leaned on the wall, his tired face worried and his robes as tattered as ever. His arms were folded, his right hand clenched tightly around a wand. She knew he wanted vengeance for the untimely deaths of his closest friends.

Close to her a young female with flaming red hair twirled her wand between her fingers. She looked calm, though no one could really see it in the dark. Her mind was set; she was ready for battle at a moment’s notice.

Crouched in the corner making lines in the dust was another redhead. He was tall and gangly, looking quite pale. She knew he didn’t fancy himself a great wizard and his fear was getting the best of him as he sat there distracting himself with the lines in the dust.

The last of the five in the dark and silent room sat perched atop the table in the center of the room. The boy with jet-black hair rubbed his scar that was burning like fire. He didn’t want his friends here; he knew he was sending them to their deaths. They would be coming any second, an army of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord to battle the famous “Boy Who Lived” and the four people who wouldn’t give up on him.

As for Hermione, though she knew what they all were thinking, they probably couldn’t guess what ran through her head. In all her years at Hogwarts she had been top of her class, and was one of the best students that had ever attended. Those were facts that wouldn’t overcome the reality that all she had learned probably couldn’t save her friends tonight. The somber realization that she couldn’t do anything weighed heavily upon her; she had thought she could do anything. It all lay on Harry now--as much as she wanted to help, she couldn’t. She thought she could make out his frame in the dark, sitting on the table, but knew it was just her mind. He sat alone in the darkness just like the rest of them, knowing the time was near.

Here they were, five martyrs waiting to die, waiting to live, waiting for some sort of absolution. They sat on James and Lily’s rebuilt lot in Godric’s Hollow, perhaps waiting the meet the same sad fate that they had. Or maybe the strong spirits that died trying to save Harry that night would protect them, no one could know. Hermione didn’t know, and she knew a lot of things.

The front door on the main level opened, they had finally come.

Harry jumped down off of the table, Ron stood up, and Remus Lupin straightened up to hear. Hermione and Ginny stayed silently where they were in the back of the room. Lupin lit his wand quietly and looked around at the four young adults in the room. He knew, just like Hermione, that it shouldn’t end this way. They were all scared and at the same time they were all so brave. The stairs creaked under the weight of the strangers on the stairs. They were coming to meet them.

“Let’s go,” said Harry quietly. Hermione could now see his face by the light of Lupin’s wand. He didn’t want them to come, he knew he was going to lose them all too. Hermione wanted to tell him how brave he was and how grateful she was, but there was no time and no words for it. They filed silently out behind him to meet the battle that lay ahead.

The battle began instantly as they made their way out of the dark room, the Death Eaters meeting them at the top of the stairs. The Dark Lord was nowhere that Hermione could see. Since no Death Eater attacked her directly she provided back up for her friends. Spells flew and curses were cast unceasingly. There were no deaths as of yet, though many killing curses had come and gone. As she battled with a tall Death Eater that was backing her down the hallway she saw Harry bound down the stairs determinedly. She realized he had found the prize; the Dark Lord was waiting for him. In the time it had taken her to deal with the Death Eater who had cornered her in the hallway, she was too late to prevent the first death.

Remus Lupin’s eyes were wide and bright after the red strand of magic hit his chest. The Death Eater that had killed him was hunched over like a rat and scurried down the stairs to where Harry and Voldemort were. Hermione forgot about Remus, about Wormtail, about the battle around them, and ran to see Harry. She leaned over the guardrail in breathless anticipation and then sank to her knees, peering at the scene through the gaps in the poles. What she saw made her want to throw up. The Dark Lord had incapacitated Harry, and his limp body lay against the wall, his lip bleeding, his head limp to one side. She saw Voldemort raise his wand and thought of a million things she could do, a hundred spells that could stop him, but she sat still as stone, crying out only in her mind.

It hadn’t taken long for the battle to end. The Dark Lord stood over Harry Potter’s dead body laughing feverishly. The spirit of battle withdrew from the room; everyone stared at Voldemort and Harry on the main level of the house. Voldemort just laughed carelessly, then regained composure and laughed again, as if in disbelief. He looked like a wild madman on the floor, laughing in front of Harry’s limp body. Hermione wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she wanted to kill him so that he would never laugh again, but she couldn’t, she was too stunned to move, to breath, to feel all the pain that was surely building up inside. Everyone shared the stunned silence, and then Ginny broke it, casting a blaze charm on the ceiling above Voldemort. Hermione couldn’t imagine what she was thinking; he had plenty of time to kill them all and escape.

Her spell seemed to awaken everyone; even the Dark Lord turned and seemed to remember them. The Death Eaters returned to him, leaving their battles behind them. Hermione didn’t understand, why were they leaving? Weren’t they going to murder the remaining survivors? No, that would be merciful. Voldemort wanted to let them live, forever knowing he just killed their savior.

“You bloody bastards! You bloody cowards, come back here and fight!” yelled Ron angrily, who had found some sort of courage and vengeance in Harry’s death.

Hermione closed her eyes and buried her head in her arms, wishing it would all go away. Maybe she would die in the fire, then she wouldn’t have to deal with this, and she might see Harry again. She never got the chance to find out though, as a pair of arms heaved her up and carried her out of the burning house. She clutched her arms around Ron’s neck trying to become smaller, trying the impossible -- to see if she could become invisible. She could hear the crackling flame and smell the smoldering wood. Please, just leave me here to die; it’s not worth it to save me. Her thoughts went unheard and unheeded by Ron, who laid her against the lamppost on the street. Ginny and Ron stood staring at the burning house while Hermione curled up in a ball, leaning against the lamppost. Her body was tensed and her heart kept wishing all this pain would go away, all this misery. Their savior was dead, lying in the burning building…

“Ron!” she screamed and he turned around quickly, wide-eyed. “You have to save Harry!”

“Hermione, he’s…” he started helplessly, as she jumped up.

“Save him, Ron!” she shrieked. Ron studied her for a precious moment and then turned and bravely ran into the inferno. Hermione sank to her knees again many feet away from the house. She waited patiently for Ron to return but it seemed like forever. She wondered if she had just sent her closest living friend to his death, but he eventually returned carrying Harry’s limp body in his arms. He collapsed just short of where Hermione knelt. Harry’s body slid out of his arms as he coughed fitfully into the ground. Ginny stood above him, placing a soothing hand on his back.

Hermione crawled to where Harry’s body lay; it was blackened from the smoke. She tried wiping the ash from his face, and held his hand as tears poured down her cheeks, leaving clean streaks in the ash as they rolled off his face. He was so cold; she swallowed back more tears painfully.

“How can this be, Harry?” she whispered to him. “You were going to save us. You were going to save me. How can you leave us alone like this? Please Harry, don’t leave me. The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. You of all people knew that, how could you leave us to battle life without you. ”

She looked at him sadly, tears running down her cheeks. She closed her eyes, and rested her head on his chest, still holding his cold hand, and that was the last thing she remembered for a long time.