Chapter 1
You are incredible.
Thank you for all that you’ve done.
Always, yours
X
Hermione frowned in consternation at the slip of paper, recently retrieved from page ninety-seven of her potions textbook. She didn’t recognise the handwriting, and with no signature attached she had little idea who could have slipped the note to her. It was a kind gesture all the same, however, and the knowledge that someone had been so thoughtful made the corners of her mouth twitch upwards in pleasure.
Currently in her seventh, and final, year at Hogwarts, Hermione was already feeling the strain of the looming NEWTs. Surprisingly, however, some of her previously-less-than-studious classmates had also had a change of heart where exam results were concerned. Perhaps the knowledge that time at Hogwarts was running out, combined with the realisation that any half decent job required a passing grade, had kicked-started even the slowest of them. So, in addition to her usual study schedule and revision timetable, Hermione was also tutoring a selection of her peers in their failing classes. It was a drain on her energies certainly, but Hermione regarded it both good work experience should she decide on a career in teaching, and excellent revision practice to aid her own knowledge.
Deciding that the note could have easily been from Neville, Seamus, Lavender or even Justin Finch-Fletchely, if he had access to her Potions textbook at some point during the day, Hermione gazed at it fondly for another second before tucking it into her bedside table where she kept a few other sentimental keepsakes. She wouldn’t embarrass whoever it was by asking around, as they obviously wished to remain anonymous, but it was lovely to be appreciated once in a while. After all, Merlin knows Harry and Ron had never thought to do something similar in the seven years she’d been saving them from the sticky situations within which they managed to entwine themselves.
The next morning, after completing her usual morning adulations, Hermione descended to breakfast, sliding into a seat next to Ron, and across from Harry.
“Morning!” she addressed them, brightly. Then, catching sight of the angry scowl plastered across Harry’s forehead, added, “What’s happened?” with foreboding.
“Voldemort!” Harry spat, pushing his chair back violently from the table. “When is it ever anything else?”
He stalked away from the table as Hermione turned helplessly to Ron with a questioning glance. He shrugged in a ‘what can we do’ sort of way, and pushed the morning edition of the Daily Prophet towards her. Trepidation warred in her gut, as Hermione took a quick gulp of pumpkin juice and lowered her eyes to the front page.
FAMILY OF FIVE MURDERED; WIZARDING WORLD ASKS ‘WHERE IS OUR SAVIOUR?!’
The Gilbert family are to be the latest victims in a string of horrific murders purported to be carried out by You-Who-Who and his followers. The bodies of Gregory Gilbert, 39, his wife Annie Gilbert, 37, and their three children, Maggie 6, Jack, 4, and Abigail, just 18 months, were discovered at their residence late last night. Consultation with officials of the Auror division concluded that details of their deaths were too horrific for disclosure to the general public. There is no known motive for the killings which Auror’s are referring to simply as ‘glory murders’.
In the wake of such news, this reporter asks whether all measures possible are being taken to protect wizarding citizens from such violence? Is the Minister truly concerned with our safety, or is he more anxious over the well-being of one young man with the power to stop this tragedy? Harry Potter, who showed the ability to defeat the Dark Lord at one year old, remains closeted away at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry under the careful eye of Albus Dumbledore, while the death toll in wizarding Britain rises by the day-
Hermione broke off, unable to stomach any more. Growling in disgust, she screwed up the paper into an angry ball, before throwing it onto the table in front of her.
“What a load of garbage!” she spat, enraged. “Honestly, as if anyone would ever believe such lies!”
Ron looked up at her from his scrambled eggs. “They do though. That’s half the problem, isn’t it?” Seeing Hermione furiously open her mouth to retort, he hurried on. “Not that I don’t think they’re all barmy mine “ ‘cos I do, you know that - s’just, they don’t know Harry like us, do they?”
Hermione started at him for a moment. “No, they don’t.” She sighed heavily and added, “If they did, if they knew him even slightly, then they’d think twice before putting him through this.”
Ron nodded sagely, and Hermione couldn’t help but watch her friend for a few more seconds. A blush started to creep up his neck, and self-conscious, Ron scrubbed at his cheek for a moment before asking defensively, “What? Do I have food on me, or something?”
She smiled. “No... I was just thinking. You know, Ron, sometimes time catches up with me and I realise how much we’ve all grown up recently.”
He gave a tired shrug. “It’s a war, isn’t it? We could hardly stay kids forever.”
“No, I suppose not. It’s funny, part of me wishes with my whole heart that you, Harry and I could stay exactly how we’ve always been; young, excited by life, constantly getting into too much mischief. Then again, part of me thinks that as we all grow up we might find... something more than we were before.”
Ron continued to look at her quizzically. “So, me getting older... it could be a good thing?”
She smiled softly across the table, and murmured, “It could be a very good thing.”
Quickly, she gathered up a few pieces of hot toast and turned to leave the Great Hall. Ron, on the other hand, dived across the table to fetch a large pitcher of pumpkin juice, which was completely inadequate in hiding the blooming blush spreading across his cheeks.
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The grass crunched gently under Hermione’s feet as she walked across the sloping lawns to the edge of the black lake. Sliding down the side of a large rock to land gently on her bottom, she crossed her legs neatly and passed the perfectly wrapped handful of buttered toast to the dark-haired boy sitting next to her.
“Thought you might be hungry,” she murmured gently.
Harry didn’t turn to look at her, but he did snake out a hand to snag the food bundle.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked quietly.
He sighed, and rubbed a hand against the lightening shaped scar that had caused so many problems. “No,” came the dejected response. Then, after a moment’s pause, “Yes... I don’t know, maybe. You’ve heard it all before anyway.”
“Perhaps,” she answered, staring into the lapping waters before her, “but that doesn’t mean you don’t need to tell me again.”
He sighed. “I’m just so tired of it all, Hermione. I’m tired of people looking up to me as if I’m the saviour of the Wizarding World, and I’m tired of feeling guilty for not saving all those people. I’m tired of constantly looking over my shoulder and watching what I say in case someone’s around who’s going to try and kill me, or my friends, or someone else that I love. I’m just... I’m just so bloody tired, Hermione.”
“You’re not responsible for those deaths, Harry.”
“Yeah, I am. And we both know it too, so let’s stop pretending, Hermione,” he fired up, angrily. “I’m the only one who can kill Voldemort, so until I get around to that pleasant little task those people are my responsibility!”
She turned to face him swiftly, taking both hands in hers. “Harry, if there is one thing I say this morning that gets through to you, let it be this; you are not responsible for those deaths. You didn’t point the wand-“
“But I didn’t stop the person pointing the wand either, did I?”
“You didn’t murder those people, Harry, directly or indirectly. No sane human being would expect a seventeen year old boy who hasn’t even left school yet to be able to dispatch Voldemort!”
“Oh cheers, Hermione. That makes me feel a lot better about the whole ‘kill or be killed’ problem!”
“There is no doubt in my mind that you will be strong enough to match him “ but not yet, not yet, Harry.” Seeing him about to retort, she charged ahead before he could draw breath. “And there’s absolutely no shame in that. Would you pit Neville against Voldemort now, before he’s even taken his NEWTs? Or Dean? Or Seamus?”
“No,” Harry admitted grudgingly.
“Well then-“
“But that reporter-“
“Harry, you shouldn’t give a rat’s arse about anything written in that rag they call a newspaper!”
Harry blinked at her in shock. “I think Ron’s been having a bad effect on you...”
“Be that as it may,” she waved away his comment, flippantly. “The point is that the only opinions you should consider right now are those from people who know and care about you“ me, Ron, Ginny, Dumbledore, and the rest of the Weasleys. And let me tell you, none of us believe you are being the least bit cowardly or selfish or whatever else they said about you. In fact, I think you’re being incredibly smart; staying safe, learning, and preparing for what is to come.”
She looked at him for a moment, before adding drolly, “I’d take the smart compliment while you can and run; knowing you as I do, it might not be given again.”
Harry cracked a smile, but still looked unsure.
“Sirius would agree with me, Harry, I know he would.” She squeezed his shoulder gently. “So would your parents.”
He swallowed and ducked his head. “Thanks, Hermione.”
She nodded, and looked away again to allow him a few moments of privacy, watching idly as the glassy surface of the lake was fractured violently by an errant tentacle.
Harry tapped her gently on the knee, disrupting her thoughts. “Hermione, I err... I just want to say, thanks,” he bobbed uncomfortably. “I’m lucky to have a friend like you.”
She smiled gently back at him, before clambering to her feet. “Come on, we better get back. Good friend I may be, but I’ll thump you if you make me late for class.”
Harry chuckled and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Together they strode back up towards the waiting castle.