ONE
Christmas Eve In Hogsmeade
The cold air nipped at her bare fingers. Hermione quickly gathered all of her books, parchments, quills, and other study materials and slipped them into her bag. She glanced around her office one last time, making sure she had everything she needed for the long holiday. Satisfied, she gave a flick of her wand towards the fireplace in the room, snuffing out its light and warmth. She flung the strap of the messenger bag over her neck and headed out the door, locking the office behind her.
She never got over that feeling—that feeling of stepping into a large but empty castle. This place used to be brimming with life, students running up and down the corridors, house ghosts playing pranks and screaming bloody murder for no apparent reason, and professors trying to calm it all. There was precious little of that these days.
Things changed after the Battle of Hogwarts. Many students did not return, either dropping out of school all together or continuing their education at home. Some, especially those Muggle-born or those who had enough experience with the Muggles, gave up their magical ways and blended back into Muggle World. Others headed abroad to foreign schools, like Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. When it came time for the first years to arrive for the fall term, only about a third of those invited showed up.
Still though, as ever, Hogwarts was an outstanding place for a young witch or wizard to learn magic. Many dedicated professors still worked diligently to provide the best education possible to all those who would come seeking knowledge. Professor Flitwick was still there, standing on boxes to see his students better, teaching his students how to use charms. Professor Slughorn was there too, bubbling up potions, while Professor Sprout provided many of the ingredients from her Herbology greenhouse. Others like Madame Pomfrey, Rubeus Hagrid, Madame Hooch, and Sybil Trewlawney were there too. Included among their ranks these days, was the young Hermione Granger—one of the brightest witches of the age.
She taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. She had tried to get Harry to do it instead, but he'd have none of that. So here she was, aged 21, as a Professor at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry teaching her worst subject in school—well, almost her worst subject. She smirked as she passed Sybil Trelawney, the divination professor, while walking down the hallway.
"Going home, my dear?"
Hermione shrugged the shoulder that bore the weight of the heavy bag at her side and only nodded her head.
"Better take an umbrella. Dark clouds are coming this way."
"I'll make sure I do." Hermione nodded and continued on her way. After she rounded the previous hallway, she shook her head. It was clearly a bright and sunny winter day.
A few corridors, hallways, and moving staircases later, Hermione found herself at the Entrance Hall. Quickly, she shuffled her feet down the stairs, watching her feet go up and down. Just before reaching the end, she looked up to see the Headmistress waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.
The tall and proud Headmistress stood with her hand poised upon the railing of the stairs. Today, she dressed in emerald-green robes, a dark hat, and a large gold ring upon her finger. Her stern face relaxed at the sight of her young teacher approaching. "Heading home for the holidays, then?"
Hermione looked down at her bulging bag again. "Yes, I think I've got everything I'll need."
"Good. Good." Professor McGonagall turned away from the stairs, escorting Hermione towards the door.
"And you, Professor?" Hermione returned the courtesy of asking.
"I'll be heading off tomorrow."
"Staying with your brother and his family for Christmas, I presume."
McGonagall nodded. "And how about you, Hermione? What will you be doing this evening?"
Hermione retracted her hand from the doorknob that she was ready to pull. She blinked for a few moments, just staring at the older witch. It was still strange sometimes for McGonagall to call her by her first name instead of Miss. Granger. "I, well, I was thinking…"
McGonagall glanced down at the heavy messenger bag strapped over Hermione's shoulder. "The other Professors decided that since we don't have any students staying with us for the holidays that we should hold a Christmas Eve party down at the Three Broomsticks."
"Oh, but, Professor…"
"It's not a formal event—just a get together between friends. It's your choice."
Hermione blinked again. "Well, I…"
"We'll meet after 7. Potter will still get his dinner."
Hermione smirked along with McGonagall. "Alright, I'll see if I can make it." She grasped the large handle of the door one more time and began to push it open.
McGonagall helped with her the door and stepped out into the chilly winter air along with Hermione. The two women paused at the top of the outside stairs, overlooking the snow-covered courtyard. "I have a favor to ask of you before you go."
"Yes, of course."
"I've received some more complaints from the shop keepers in Hogsmeade."
"More?" Hermione asked.
McGonagall nodded. "Yes, more items have come up missing in the last few weeks."
"Such as?"
McGonagall waved her hand two and fro as she rattled of the items missing, "The usual things: food, potion ingredients, tools…"
"Nothing valuable?"
McGonagall shook her head. "Not particularly. And this time, whoever it was left a block of cheese behind at the apothecary—payment, I suppose."
Hermione shrugged her shoulders. It sounded like a giant rat for all she knew.
"Continue looking into it for me?"
Hermione nodded with a sigh. "Immediately after the holidays, I'll inquire some of the shop keepers about what happened. "
McGonagall nodded. "Well, off you go then. Hopefully, we'll see you tonight at the Three Broomsticks."
Hermione nodded back. "Right." She turned away from the Headmistress and continued on her way. The Headmistress quickly headed back inside for the warmth of the castle, and Hermione was left alone outside. The snow crinkled and crumbled under her feet as she headed home.
She could have apparated home, but this way was much more scenic. (Plus, apparating everywhere was the fastest way to gain weight, she reasoned.) Pillowy blankets of smooth snow twinkled in the afternoon sun like precious opals. The air was cold and crisp but not comfortable.
She walked a long ways in silence, admiring the beauty of the Scottish highlands, until she noticed something unusual in the snow. She bent down and examined the area. Tracks. They couldn't be any more than two days old since that was the last time it snowed or the winds picked up. There were two different kinds: one with what looked like a small heel and five toes and one with a larger heel and five toes.
"Bear, I reckon."
Hermione looked up at the sound of the familiar voice. "Hagrid! What are you doing out here?" She stood up straight.
Hagrid raised the sack he was carrying. "Doxycide. Ran outta it up at the castle. Got a Doxy infestation at the greenhouse."
"Pesky things." Hermione frowned.
"Aye, that they are." Hagrid nodded his head a bit then looked down at Hermione. "I best be off. Professor Sprout needs me." He raised the bag again.
"Alright, Hagrid. Take care."
"You too, 'ermione. You too." They parted ways and each continued walking, but Hagrid turned back after a few steps. "You goin' to the party tonight?"
Hermione turned back. "I don't know. Maybe."
"Well, if ya do, save me a seat, will ya?"
"Will do."
After walking a bit longer, and passing through the bustling little down of Hogmeade, Hermione finally arrived at her destination. About a stone's throw or two from the tiny hamlet, Hermione gave a flick of her wand towards the door of a small, but charming, little cottage. She waved her wand towards the fireplace, and immediately, flames kindled. She pulled the strap of her bag off her shoulder and let it drop to the floor. Next, her winter wear came off along with her boots. She twirled her wand towards the tea kettle over in the kitchen area, and then she slumped onto a wooden chair in at the desk near the doorway.
She was home. Well, it wasn't exactly her house. It actually belonged to Professor McGonagall, but for many years, the Professor had been living up at the castle. Hermione, on the other hand, couldn't bear the thought of staying in the castle any longer than she had too. She did stay in the dormitories of the castle while finishing up her NEWTs, but after that, when she was given a teaching position at Hogwarts, she just couldn't do it anymore—too many horrific memories.
Hermione looked up at the beautifully carved cuckoo clock on the wall. It was almost five. Hermione sighed and slowly got up from her chair. She had better get on to starting dinner. She poured herself a cup of tea and then began her work in the kitchen.
Within a half an hour or so, Hermione turned around at the sound of a small popping noise. Just in time, she thought. She had two plates in her hands, with steaming hot ham, bright orange carrots, and fresh bread rolls. She set the plates down on the wooden kitchen table and took a seat.
Harry sat down across from her and immediately grabbed a fork. Without a word, the two started eating their dinner. It wasn't until Hermione was through a few carrots that she started to talk.
"What are you dressed up for?" Hermione asked, noting the suit jacket Harry had on over his sweater.
Harry didn't look up from his focused concentration on cutting his ham. "Going to the Weasleys tonight. Aren't you?"
Hermione's eyes instinctively glanced over to the living room where she kept the mail. The invitation to the Weasleys Christmas Eve dinner lay somewhere in there. "No, I don't think I'll be going."
Harry put his silverware down. "Why not?" He looked straight at her with those piercing green eyes of his.
Hermione pushed a half-eaten carrot around on her plate. "I've got a number of things to do around here."
"Like what?" He asked. "Dust under the furniture, brush the cat, read the same book for the twelfth time?"
"My life isn't that pathetic," Hermione wrinkled her nose at him. "At least I can cook for myself."
What might normally turn into a fight between most people became something to laugh at with them. Harry looked at his food, the food that Hermione made, and then picked up his fork to take a long and exaggerated bite.
Hermione faintly smiled.
"So what are you doing tonight then?" Harry tried again, in a friendlier tone.
"There's a Christmas party at the Three Broomsticks tonight. Lots of the Professors will be attending."
Harry nodded. "Sounds fun, I suppose, but I'd really wish you'd come with me tonight."
The mood fell again. "Harry," Hermione turned away. "…I can't."
"They don't blame you," Harry said. "They miss you."
Hermione closed her eyes as she sighed. "I just can't."
Harry knew this would go nowhere so he continued eating for a while before he spoke up again. "Would you at least send them a holiday card or something? They're always asking about you, if you're okay or not."
Hermione nodded. "Yes, I'll get something written up."
The two friends continued to eat quietly for a while longer. Hermione served leftover pie as dessert, and it wasn't much longer until Harry was giving her a side hug and telling her to have fun at the party. He apparated out of the cottage, leaving Hermione alone again. Hermione looked over at the clock. She was pretty much stuck going to the party now since she told Harry about it. Looking at the clock again, she realized that she'd have to hurry up and get ready.
The whole town of Hogmeade bustled with cheer and joy. Carolers stood on every corner belting out holiday songs and trying to out-do one another with louder and longer notes. Shop keepers decorated their windows with colored floating lights and paper snowflakes. Lights from the local shops and houses flooded the streets with a warm glow. Anyone who didn't know any better might think he or she entered the North Pole.
Hermione tromped through the snow a few minutes after 7:15. She was met with a loud cheer and sloshing butterbeer from raised glasses as she entered the Three Broomsticks. A small blush washed over her cheeks as all eyes fell on her.
"You made it, Hermione!" Professor Flitwick cheered happily.
"Happy Christmas, Professor," She said to him. She looked around for a quiet place with people she knew. Over in the second room, Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, and Madame Pomfrey sat at a table with their drinks.
"The usual?" The barman called out to Hermione as she walked past.
"Yes, please."
"One butterbeer with cinnamon!" The bartender yelled towards the staff in the back.
The three women acknowledged Hermione's presence and motioned for her to sit down.
"Happy Christmas!" Professor Sprout began, followed by McGonagall and Madame Poomfrey.
"Happy Christmas." Hermione acknowledged them all with nods and took a seat. "I'm sorry to hear about your Doxy problem, Professor Sprout."
The Professor waved her hand. "It's a bit of a set-back, but Hagrid's got me all sorted out."
"Glad you could make it, Hermione." Madame Pomfrey smiled.
"I thought you might have brought Potter with you," McGonagall said before taking a sip of her gillywater.
"Oh, he'll be at the Weasleys tonight."
"Maybe you should have went with him," McGonagall said, matter of factly.
Hermione shrugged.
"Yes," Madame Pomfrey seemed to giggle. "I'm wondering when you and Mr. Potter are going to couple up."
Professor Sprout faintly snorted. "They're already practically coupled up."
Hermione sat with a furious shade of red washing over her face. "It's not like that…it's not like that at all…"
The two women across the table chucked as they watched how embarrassed the girl became. If only they knew. Hermione couldn't help but think of the incredibly awkward time she and Harry kissed and about how much they both stammered afterwards about how they should just be friends. Well, she wasn't going to be sharing that particular piece of information with anyone anytime soon.
"Harry…he's like a brother to me," Hermione said, finally.
"Oh, then perhaps you've got your eye on someone else then?" The school nurse smiled.
"I better go check on my butterbeer. They usually forget to put the cinnamon in." Hermione got up out of her seat and headed back into the front room of the inn.
The door burst open, letting in a blast of cold air. Standing in the doorway was a giant of a man with thick black hair. He stomped the snow off his big boots and looked up at the crowd before him. "Hermione!" Hagrid called out. "Happy Christmas to ya!"
She genuinely smiled at her longtime friend and greeted him with a big hug. "Happy Christmas!"
"Where's Harry? Did he not drop by yer house today? I thought you'd be draggin' him along with ya tonight. I got Christmas presents for the both of ya."
"He's with the Wesleys tonight. He left after dinner."
Hagrid shook his head with a smirk. "That boy needs to learn to cook for himself one of these days."
"You and I both know that he'd be eating at Wizard Cheng's or the Leaky Cauldron every night if he had to cook for himself."
Hagrid let out a hearty laugh. "Aye, that'd be true." He threw his giant around Hermione's shoulder. "Let's get some butterbeers and nab a seat by the fire."
The night became much more comfortable as everyone sang songs, told stories and jokes, talked and laughed, and had their fill of butterbeer while sitting inside the warmth of the inn. She surprised herself, having such a good time, that night. All night, people had moved in and out, but as the fires started to die, the crowd started to dwindle. Soon, there was only a small crowd left: some of the teachers were circled up at one of the main tables discussing school matters, a few unfamiliar stragglers at the bar were drinking alone, and a couple was in the corner sharing a Christmas kiss. Hermione tilted her head to the side for a moment and sighed.
"I'll be fine!" A loud voice boomed with a slur. Half the contents of his large mug sloshed onto the floor.
"Hagrid, it's best we get back to the castle now," Professor Flitwick encouraged the half-giant to abandon his drink.
"Oh, he's in no condition to be apparating anywhere!" Madame Pomfrey shook her finger vigorously. "He'll have to walk!"
"Come on, Hagrid, let's get you home." Flitwick led the large man out of the inn, but not before Hagrid bellowed his teary goodbyes to all those left.
"I don't know how Filius is going to manage to get him back to the castle if he passes out," Professor Sinistra said.
"Well, Flitwick better have one hell of a levitation charm," Grubbly-Plank said.
Hermione nearly choked on her butterbeer. But as everyone continued laughing, it was then that the memories started to flood back into Hermione's mind.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
"You're saying it wrong. It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."
Why did this have to happen now? Any little thing could trigger the memories that burned in her mind's eye just as sharp and as clear as if they were from yesterday. Sometimes once they started, she wasn't able stop it: there was the first day of lessons they had together, cheering for Harry in the Quidditch stands, studying in the library, fighting at the Yule Ball—there were lots of fights—practicing in forbidden magic in the Room of Requirement, spending Christmas at 12 Grimmauld Place, watching Lavender Brown hold his hand up and down the corridors, spending weeks together with Harry looking for Horcruxes, their first kiss on the night of the battle. Memory after memory started rolling in until a flash of green light came.
"Hermione."
Hermione jerked her head. "Huh?" The images were gone.
"We're heading back up to the castle." Professor Slughorn said with a slight hiccup. "Will you be remaining here or retiring home?"
Hermione looked up at the clock. It was already an hour and a half into Christmas Day. She stood up from her chair and joined in the merriment of saying goodbye to everyone. Her mood lightened again.
The crowd of teachers stepped outside into the cold all bundled up in their winter gear. McGonagall and Hermione exited last.
McGonagall tied the strings to her tartan hat under her chin. "It was good to see you tonight, Hermione."
"Yes, I had a pleasant time."
"Good. Well, take care of yourself over the holidays."
"You too, Professor."
One by one, the Professors quickly apparated out of sight, leaving Hermione alone on the doorstep of the Three Broomsticks. By that time, the streets were deserted and most of the houses and shops were dark. Only an occasional street lamp lit the way home. Sticking to her rule of not apparating anywhere within walking distance, Hermione started to make her way back to the cottage on the outskirts of town.
It was a peaceful night. Light snowflakes spiraled downwards from the heavens. Besides the crunching of her boots in the snow, an occasional voice or the sound of laughter could be heard in the distance. Hermione tucked her hands into her coat pockets and continued home. As she approached a darker section of the village, faint voices grew louder.
"Oh, look, it's that Mudblood again!" A voice slurred.
Hermione stopped. She wasn't sure if she heard correctly. "Excuse me?"
"He called you just what you are—a Mudblood!"
Hermione peered into the darkness. There were three men huddled together against a storage building with a collection of firewhiskey bottles littered at their feet. She didn't recognize any of them. The one who was leaning against the building stood up and started walking towards her. He seemed to be the ringleader.
Hermione took a step back. "It's late, gentlemen. I'll leave you to your business. Have a Happy Christmas." She turned to head back towards the Three Broomsticks.
The man gave a sharp flick of his wand. As Hermione tried to walk away, it felt like the snap of a whip hit her in the back of the leg. She dropped to one knee. Small speckles of red blood splattered against the white snow.
"Stupify!" She hollered after quickly whipping her wand out and spinning around while on her knee. She barely missed.
Lights started flashing wildly in the darkness. There were more of them than she thought. Another wizard stepped out from the darkness and started casting spells in her direction. She had better even out the odds, she thought. She aimed first for the most inebriated one and quickly took him out with a stunning spell. He flew back into the building and crumpled to the ground. That offensive move almost left her off guard though, as the ringleader sent another ferocious spell in her direction, giving her barely enough time to block. She gritted her teeth as the last spell nearly knocked her to her feet.
She spun around and fired off another spell, this time knocking the wand out of one of their hands. She couldn't follow up with a spell to take him out because more spells came her way. She blocked them non-verbally and fired off more spells clumsily in an attempt to catch one of them off guard. It didn't work. There was a small moment of ceasefire as all involved tried to catch their breaths.
"What do you want from me?" Hermione called out to them.
"It's your fault guys like us are barely scrapping by these days!" One of them hissed.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Look, it's late, and we've all had a lot to drink…" She didn't, but it was obvious that they did. "…why don't we all just go home and…"
"If it wasn't for you and your filth, the Dark Lord would still be here!"
Her eyes narrowed. "Death Eaters."
"No, not so privileged, but they had the right idea—wiping your kind off the face of the Earth."
Hermione gripped her wand tightly. Thrashing a bunch of rude mouthy drunks wasn't exactly how she imagined her evening but so be it. Spells started up again. Despite the fact that she was outnumbered, she fared well against the three. She had one of them right where she wanted him, and she was posed to strike.
"Crucio!" The leader called out.
Goodness, not that. Not that spell again.
"Silencio!" Another called out.
Pain that still seemed fresh in her memory from a couple of years ago resurfaced. The feeling of scalding knives pierced through every point of her skin. Her bones ached and throbbed as her body twisted and contorted. It felt as though raging fire pumped through her veins, but as she withered and writhed on the ground, no sound came from her lips.
The men circled around her, with sinister grins plastered on their faces. The ringleader continued to hold his Cruciatus curse on Hermione, his smile growing larger.
"How do you like this?" One of them flicked his wand downwards. Again, Hermione felt magical whips tear through her clothing and slash her skin. "Or this?" He did it again.
The leader released his spell.
Though she was lying in the snow on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, images of Malfoy Manor came into her mind's eye. For brief moments, as the pain would climax, she wasn't sure which place she really was.
"Why don't we just kill her. I'm sure we'll be doing a few favors if we do it." One of them said.
"Nah, not just yet." The ringleader said. "I wanna make her suffer like the filthy little Mudblood that she is!"
Just as Hermione's vision was starting some back into focus, waves of horrendous pain washed over her again. Tears, no matter how badly she wanted to keep them in, came. Images of the men and the green flashing light of their spells blurred with her tears.
Flashes of red lit up the night. Furious movement zoomed back and forth in front of Hermione's blurred vision. Legs danced around in the snow as some sort of fight broke out. There were now four people before her. She raised her head off the cold ground as best as she could. One of the drunk men went down quickly with a spell. Another of the drunks came rushing towards her, but there was a newcomer standing in front of her. As the drunk rushed towards her, the newcomer raised his leg and kicked him in the chest. The drunk fell to his knees. Then then newcomer bashed his fist against the drunk's shoulder, knocking the drunk to the ground. The ringleader fired of a spell, but it was blocked up the newcomer and quickly countered with another.
From there, Hermione could keep her head up no longer. She fell back, her eyes staring straight up into the starry night. A few moments later, a shadow appeared over her, and that was the last thing she remembered.
