The next few days were a blur to me. Harry was slightly colder when he spoke to me, but no one else seemed to notice. I didn’t read any more in the diary for nearly a week, for a couple reasons.
First, I just didn’t have time. The past summer we had managed to get the house into a livable condition, but there was still more to do. We now had to make it a bit more welcoming, we had to cheer it up a bit. And we also had to go thru Sirius’s few possessions, a chore none of us enjoyed.
But there was another reason I didn’t read the diary. I was afraid. The story was basically completed in my mind, except for the end. I still didn’t know what Sirius and Lupin did to fix the world. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know. My life was normal and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be burdened with the knowledge of whatever sacrifice or horrific experience the two of them had to go thru to free that trapped, alternate existence.
Finally, though, a week before we had to go to Hogwarts, I knew I had to finish the diary. But I wanted to do it by myself, with no one else around to pry into my affairs. The only truly private place I knew of was the room where Buckbeak was being kept. And so, one night, after Ginny had fallen asleep, I slipped out of our room and climbed the stairs to Buckbeak’s little room.
I cautiously opened the door, trying not to make too much noise. I was shocked, shocked, to find that I was not the only one seeking sanctuary up there, away from the rest of the Order.
“Professor Lupin!” I said, surprised. I barely ever saw Lupin around the house, and finding him in Buckbeak’s room in the middle of the night seemed very odd. “What are you doing here?”
He, however, didn’t seem fazed to see me. “Just thinking, Hermione,” he said, closing his eyes as he sat leaning against the wall. Suddenly, he perked up. “Hermione,” he began intently, turning to look into my eyes, “Do you remember that night about a month ago? Do you know what I’m talking about?”
I walked across the room and slid down next to him before I answered him. “Of course I know what you’re talking about,” I sighed and continued, “I’ve been remembering that night every moment of every day.”
He didn’t seem surprised, he just continued, “Do you understand it at all, Hermione? It seems silly that I don’t have any clue. James and Sirius”- here he allowed himself a momentary shudder-“may have been the smartest kids in the year, but, I mean, I was no slouch. And, I was a professor for goodness sakes! But I just don’t understand it, not at all.” He looked like he so forlorn at that moment, I almost started crying again.
But I managed to control myself, and decided to tell Lupin everything I had discovered. After my brief account of my search that night, and what I had discovered, I took out the diary and handed it to him.
“I remember this,” he said, running his hand over it, “I remember the day he got it. James said it was stupid gift, but Sirius argued that James was just jealous because Lily had never given him as much as a smile,” Lupin sighed here, remembering his friends for a moment. Then he continued, “As far as I knew, he stopped writing in it when we discovered that Lily and James were in danger,” he began to flip through the book, “but there are entries in here from after he was sent to Azkaban……oh my goodness,” he said, as he read through one of the later entries. “I remember now, I remember.”
“Do you remember what you did, you and Sirius,” I began shakily, horribly aware that I was about to find out, like it or not, what exactly had been done to bridge the gap between worlds, “Do you remember what you did that night?”
Lupin looked at me very seriously. “No, I’m afraid I don’t,” he said, and my heart dropped. I had to know, I realized at that moment, I had to know had happened or I would never be fully complete.
“But maybe Sirius wrote something,” he said, opening the diary to the last entry. I looked up hopefully, watching as his eyes searched the page. “Yes, there’s definitely something here,” he continued to read as he spoke, and when he had finished, he looked up and said, “I’m not sure if you want to hear this, Hermione.”
“Sir,” I implored him, in much the same way I had Harry, “I need to hear it. Read it, please.” He sighed once more, and began to read.