Author's Note: Hi! Please read and review, I would love to get feedback! I'm not great at English, but I tried my best and I hope you like it. Any type of feedback is welcome. Criticisms with good grounds will help make it better. I technically have nine chapters on this page, but I decided to combine them all into one since my chapters tend to be very short in the beginning. They will get longer, I promise.
*******Story Key –
::: . . . ::: = A/N
" . . . " = Spoken
/ . . . / = Thought
Chapter 1: The Hospital RoomShe's gone.
Harry continued to stare at the bed where she once lay. It was shining a brilliant white from the light spilling in through the open window, as if an angel had blessed it. But there was no light in Harry's mind. Instead it was cloaked with a shadow of darkness that haunted him and refused to disappear.
A cold blow of wind flowed in from outside. The icy breeze whipped around him, causing tiny bumps to form on his bare arms. He shivered.
It had been a week since Hermione died, but he still was in shock. One day she was there, flipping her hair, smiling, scolding him about not doing his homework, and the next day . . .
It's my fault, Harry told himself. I was there. I could have stopped it. I could have saved her.
He had been engulfed into a sea of guilt from the moment he laid eyes on her cold, lifeless body. To Harry, there was no denying who was responsible for Hermione's death.
She died for me. She died to save me.
He was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn't hear someone enter the hospital room.
"Harry?"
He jumped, startled, upon hearing his name. Spinning around in confusion, he realized it was only Ron who was standing across the room with a face full of concern.
"Harry, are you all right?" Ron sounded panicky.
How can I be all right? Harry thought to himself. She's gone, and it's my fault . . .
"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered, trying to keep his voice as calm and steady as he could. He masked his grief, even managing to give a weak smile.
Ron didn't buy that answer, and Harry didn't exactly expect him to. "Harry, I know it's been hard for you since . . . since it happened, and it's hard on me too . . . "
Not as much, Harry thought bitterly.
" . . . I know," Ron continued, "I miss her too. I've cried about it too. But, Harry, don't you think it's time to get over it?"
Harry's eyes widened. How dare he say that!
His mask dissolving into the true emotion within him: anger. Gritting his teeth, he felt his blood starting to boil.
"Get over it? Get over it?!" He screamed as a fit of rage exploded and overflowed from within. "You want me just to forget about it, like that?! Isn't it a big deal to you?! Are you heartless, Ron?!"
Harry glanced at Ron and instantly bit his tongue. The anger dissolved as soon as he saw how hurt Ron looked.
"Ron . . . " He said weakly, "Ron, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that . . . It's just . . . "
He paused, not knowing what to say. "I'm sorry," he said again, feeling it was the only thing to say.
"I know you didn't mean that, Harry," Ron said. "I understand. It hurts. It hurts like hell." His eyes were focused on Harry's own. "But you know you can't go on like this. No one can. She – "
He paused for a moment to allow the words to flow from his mouth with meaning.
"Hermione wouldn't have wanted you to," he finished.
Small tears filled Harry's eyes at the mention of her name, but he blinked them away before Ron could notice. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
Ron smiled weakly. "Come on, Harry. It's time for Transfiguration, and we both know first hand how much Professor McGonagall hates tardiness."
Harry smiled in return. "OK, I'm coming," he said. He rose and joined Ron. They both left the room, but before leaving Harry took a moment to take one last glance at the hospital bed. Why her, not me? She never deserved to die.
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Chapter 2: The Tortured Soul
Hermione awoke with a start. She was sitting on the stone floor of a dark room, completely black except for a little candle in one corner. Not recognizing a think, she hadn't the slightest clue where she was.
She was suddenly engulfed in pain. It was pain like nothing she had ever experienced in her life. Her head throbbed, her chest pounded, and it felt as if every part of her body was being torn apart.
Hermione opened her mouth to scream, but not a sound came out. She tried again, and again, but it she was robbed of her voice. The pain tore at her until her body and mind could not bear it. She slumped against the cold wall behind her and passed out.
The small, dancing flame was the only witness.
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She woke up again a while later. The pain had numbed a bit, but did not disappear. She was still in the dark room, with the little candle and the stone floor.
Alone.
Helpless.
Then Hermione realized that she wasn't breathing. She tried to inhale, but instead was punched by another round of sharp pain. She doubled over, clutching her stomach. After what seemed like many long, torturing hours, it eased.
She was completely miserable, and couldn't even cry. She didn't feel human, but instead some form of a monster or beast.
She looked down and jumped at what she saw.
Her legs were white. The school uniform she was wearing was white. Every part of her was shining a transparent glow of white. Hermione stared at her hands. They were white and glowing. The white flooded her eyes. She closed them.
She tried to cry again. She couldn't. The tears wouldn't come, not matter how hard she pushed or how tormented she felt.
I want to die. This must be hell. I want to die. I want to get out of this room, far away, away from this loneliness and pain.
Hermione's weariness gradually overcame her. An uneasy sleep slowly ensnared her.
The flame looked on.
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She woke up for the third time. The pain had almost gone, with the ripping reduced to a throbbing. It was still the same room, with the candle and the darkness.
But something new had appeared in the room. There was a tall mirror next to the candle. It shined from the light of the candle, slightly illuminating the room.
Hermione, being curious, got on her feet and walked to the mirror, daring to look into it.
She saw herself. She looked just like she had before being transported into this room, except for the eerie light glow. She still had bushy hair, the uniform, the pale eyes, and everything else. She looked human, but she didn't feel the least bit like one.
After a long while, finally satisfied, she tried to walk away. Her legs moved, but she didn't. She was still in the same spot. Upon looking down, Hermione discovered why. Her feet were no longer on the ground. She was floating.
Hermione felt a great joy spread through her body. It felt so wonderful to fly. She moved tried to walk on the air, hoping to get to the other side of the room. She couldn't. Breaking into a run and flailing her arms as if swimming, she tried to move. It didn't work. She finally gave up, miserably rooted to exactly the same spot.
I wish that I could travel over there . . .
No later than when the thought crossed her mind, she suddenly whipped across the room, speeding toward the opposite wall.
Stop! She came to an abrupt halt with her nose two inches away from the wall.
Hermione smiled. She was pleased with herself to have figured it out. She had to think to move.
For a long period of time she floated around the little room. Flying gave her an exhilarating feeling. She guessed this was what Quidditch players must feel on their broomsticks.
She laughed, and then grinned. Her voice was back!
"I can talk! I can fly!" Hermione was overjoyed.
Long afterward she felt very tired. Flying had taken up most of her energy. She floated back to her usual spot on the ground, sat down, and fell fast asleep.
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Chapter 3: The Staff Meeting
Professor Dumbledore fidgeted with his pen at his desk. It was dark outside, and the only light was coming from his lamp standing nearby. The gloomy scenery felt comforting to him, since he had needed time alone to sort out his thoughts.
He had summoned all the teachers to a meeting, which he told them was urgent but nothing threatening. He needed to tell them about what he was planning to do.
While he continued to play with his pen, all the professors suddenly burst into the room. It looked like they had been running, since some of them were out of breath.
Dumbledore rose to greet them. "You all look fatigued," he told them, "please sit and rest. I believe I recall saying there was no rush? But never mind that, please sit down. I need to tell you all what is going on."
He waited until they all were sitting in the chairs in front of him before continuing.
"You all know of the tragedy that occurred a week ago. The death of Ms. Hermione Granger was indeed a great loss to our school and the students. Turning into a ghost is such a painful and confusing process." He gave a very small sigh and continued. "I have talked to Mr. and Mrs. Granger recently, and we came to a conclusion."
The professors were nervous. Snape was staring at the ground. McGonogall was sitting straight up and her undivided attention was on Dumbledore. Lupin toyed with his fingers. Binns was unable to look at Dumbledore. The others were all acting similarly. No matter how they were acting, one fact was clear. They knew Hermione very well, and all had been delighted to have such a bright and hard working student, though some may have been more reluctant to admit it than others. Dumbledore silently studied each one of them before continuing.
"We have agreed that it would be best to have a school funeral here."
Each the professors looked up at the same moment. "A funeral . . . here? While she is still in the Nesskrad Room?" Snape asked.
"Yes, Severus. Many students knew Ms. Granger very well, and it is important to give them a chance to mourn and let out their feelings. They do believe that she is dead, and we don't want good to announce her transformation to the students. It would lead to chaos. Mr. and Mrs. Granger also need some time to figure out a way to explain her death to the rest of her family."
"But, sir, where would we have it?" Inquired McGonogall. "Surely not in one of the classrooms, they are too small to fit fifty students, let alone the entire school and a coffin."
"I have a suggestion for that," Lupin said, "the Great Hall would fit all the students. All we would need are a few finishing touches and take away the tables.
Dumbledore considered that for a moment. "An excellent suggestion. Does anyone have any objections to that?"
All the teachers were still silent and shocked. McGonogall spoke up, saying, "But, sir, never in the history of Hogwarts has there ever been any sort of funeral!"
"Ah, yes Minerva, but there is a first for everything."
Professor Binns seemed puzzled. "But when would we have it?"
"The day after tomorrow, in the morning after breakfast. That will give us enough time to announce the event to all the students." Dumbledore studied each of them again. "Are there any more questions or concerns?" No one spoke. "Wonderful, then we shall go ahead. I'm sure that you all have something to attend to, and I won't keep you any longer. I bid a good night to each of you."
There was a chorus of "Good nights" as all the professors except McGonogall left the room. She waited until everyone had departed before she spoke.
"Albus, I need to address a problem with you." She looked straight into his eyes. "I'm concerned about the health of the students. In particular as Ron Weasely and Harry Potter – "
Dumbledore spoke softly. "Yes, Mr. Weasely and Mr. Potter – very close ties to Ms. Granger. I was afraid they would not be faring well. How are they doing?"
"Poorly," McGonogall said without hesitation. "Their grades are at an all time low. I am especially concerned about Harry – he has completely stopped participating in class, and he is failing many of the tests and quizzes, not to mention incomplete homework. They both, and Harry especially, seem to be what Muggles would call "in a state of grieving". I'm very worried about them."
Dumbledore gave her a warm smile meant to cheer her up. "Don't worry. I believe that a little time to grieve is completely necessary in the healing process. They both will benefit from the funeral, as long as they are able to let their emotions out. They are not quite ready to face Ms. Granger themselves. It would be too much of a shock for them. Meanwhile, I don't know what to say. It wouldn't be fair on the other students to go easy on them. The only advice I can give is to have patience. They'll come around sooner or later." Dumbledore sighed, his smile fading. "It is so saddening. They cared for her so much. I would not hesitate to call it love. It must be so hard for them to mourn her death while not knowing she is still around."
McGonogall squinted her eyes. She thought she saw a teardrop rolling down his face.
Again, Dumbledore smiled warmly at her. With the feeling that everything would turn out all right, she left. "Good night, Albus."
"Good night, Minerva."
After she left, Dumbledore was uneasy. What is happening to Ms. Granger much be painful . . . and so complicated to explain. I hope that when the time comes to let her out of the Nesskrad Room, she and all the students will be ready.
Darkness settled in, finally matching on the outside what he was feeling on the inside.
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Chapter 4: A Flee From Reality
It seemed like a normal morning in the Great Hall. Everyone was chatting excitedly, finishing up last minute homework, and eating breakfast.
Harry, of course, was his usual dull self. He was sitting next to Ron and Neville, who was once again trying to turn his pumpkin juice into root beer. His efforts only resulted in a series of small explosions and the inevitable loss of his eyebrows.
Harry poked his toast with his fork. He didn't feel very hungry. He never really did since the night Hermione died. Eating seemed to be a chore.
Halfway through breakfast, Professor Dumbledore unexpectedly stood up and tapped his glass with a knife. All the chattering and noise turned into silence. It was very unusual for Professor Dumbledore to make any sort of announcement. Harry's heart fell. That was not a good sign.
"Thank you," he said, "that was very quick. We the staff have something very important to announce. Now, please give Professor McGonogall your attention."
Professor McGonogall stood and started to speak. "In light of the recent tragedy…"
Oh, bloody hell. Harry knew exactly what was going to happen.
"I have to go to the library," he whispered to Ron. Without another word he rose and left the Great Hall.
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Harry walked down the empty corridors, his feet making quiet, tapping noises that echoed off the walls. He didn't need to go to the library. He just had to leave there before they started talking about Hermione. He just couldn't stand hearing her name anymore. It hurt too much.
Harry stopped abruptly.
Wait a minute, the library was one of Hermione's favorite places. I can't go there!
He turned around and started the other way, to the Gryffindor commonroom. At least he would get some privacy there.
On his way he saw Cho Chang coming down the hallway. Normally he would have blushed and tried to hide, but Harry had changed. He didn't care about her anymore. His mind was fixed on another girl.
They got closer and Cho stopped. She seemed to really want to talk to him.
"Hi, Harry," she said softly.
"Hello," he answered plainly as he stopped.
Cho looked a bit nervous. "Listen…I just wanted to say how sorry I am about…you know…"
Harry took a deep breath. "Hermione." He finished her sentence.
"Yes." She blushed. "It must be really hard for you…"
She looked straight into his eyes. "…and I wanted to let you know you have my support."
Harry shrugged. "Thanks," he said. He really didn't feel like socializing.
Cho looked down. "Bye." She walked off very hurriedly. It took Harry a few seconds to realize what she was feeling.
She just gave me her support, and I completely ignored it . . .
Feeling very guilty, he ran after her. "Cho! Wait!"
She stopped but didn't turn around.
"Cho, I'm sorry. I acted like a jackass. I mean, here you are offering your support, and I just shrug it off."
She turned around and faced him. "You don't need to feel sorry. I understand."
She started going again without another word.
"Wait," Harry said. "Why weren't you at breakfast?"
"I wasn't hungry," she replied.
You and me both.
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Chapter 5: Controlled ChaosRon watched Harry get up from the table. It took him a while to process what was happening, and by the time Ron realized what was really going on, Harry was already halfway out of the room.
He's running away from reality again.
Ron had no time to think anymore. The announcement Professor McGonogall was about to say must have been important. And about Hermione.
She cleared her throat, and started. "I'm sure all of you are familiar with the tragic death of one of our students, Ms. Hermione Granger. It has affected many of you, some more than others . . . "
Ron glanced at Professor Dumbledore. He was watching the door through which Harry had disappeared.
" . . . And therefore, the staff of this school along with the parents of Ms. Granger have decided to have a funeral here."
She didn't have a chance to continue. The Great Hall burst into a pandemonium. Everyone was talking. Neville and Seamus were bent over, chattering and not trying to hide how insane they thought the idea was. The Gryffindor table turned into a volcano of shock and chaos.
Ron's jaw dropped as soon as the professor had said "funeral". What the bloody hell are they thinking? That's the craziest, stupidest, most unbelievable thing I've ever heard in my entire life! Having Hermione's funeral here, were everyone can openly joke about her while staring at her dead body! It's insane!
He looked around the Great Hall. A girl at the Hufflepuff table was crying. A plate was splattered next to the Ravenclaw table. Everything was crazy. There wasn't a silent student in the whole room besides Ron.
Ron took a moment to listen to what other people were saying. He heard bits and pieces of intense conversations.
" . . . a dead body, here? . . . "
" . . . Dumbledore's gone nuts . . . "
" . . . Isn't this against the law or something . . . "
" . . . I've never been to a funeral before . . . "
Ron closed his eyes. No one cared that it was Hermione's funeral. They just didn't want a funeral.
He wanted to stand up on a chair and scream at each and every one of them. They were being so selfish! This wasn't about what they felt about going to a funeral! This was about Hermione!
But he didn't. He couldn't. If you live with six siblings, five of them brothers that tease and haunt you for crying or being emotional at all, you learn how to keep a wall around yourself. How to trap and confine your feelings, and never let them out. The only problem was the feelings could eat through the bars of any cage. Even if they can't get out, they eat away at your heart, mind, strength, anything it can get a hold of.
His thoughts finally shifted back to the present situation. He glanced around, and something caught his eye. Malfoy was sitting at the Slytherin table, giggling with Crabbe and Goyle. A fire crept through his body, starting in his hands and spreading everywhere. He curled his hands into fists, clenching them to tightly that he noticed a drop of blood on his palm.
He stared at Malfoy, like a jaguar would watch its prey. Malfoy had a huge grin on his face. As Ron stared, he figured out what he was saying by watching his mouth. He figured out one part of it.
"This is gonna be fun."
Then he lost it. He got up and started storming across the room like a fire doused in gasoline. He had only one thing set in his mind. To kill Malfoy.
But he never got farther than his table. Fred and George, who had been watching him for a while when he was glaring at Malfoy, grabbed him by both arms and held him back. Ron struggled to get free and get to the Slytherin table, but their strength was too much for him to shake off.
"Ron! Ron, that slime ball isn't worth fighting!" Fred kept both his hands wrapped around Ron's wrist.
"Yeah, chill out bro. Who cares what that bastard has to say?" George said in a calm voice.
After a few seconds Ron stopped struggling. They're right, who cares what he has to say? He isn't worth even listening to. His brothers, sensing his adjustment, released him. They returned and sat down at the table. Ron stood for about five moments before going back to his seat.
Seamus looked him over, looking particularly at his palm where the drop of blood still lay. "Are you okay, Ron? You look terrible! What's with the blood?"
Ron ignored the last question and muttered, "Yeah, I'm fine."
At that moment there was a loud, high screech. Many people clapped their hands over their ears. There was a sudden silence. The screech had come from an owl sitting at the edge of Dumbledore's table. The teachers were obviously annoyed and maybe even angry about the amount of talking done during that time.
Dumbledore finally stood. "I'm very disappointed in you. Basic manners say that when someone else is speaking, especially an elder, your mouths are shut." Guilty faces spread. "I hope this does not become a habit for you. I have already told many people that the students at Hogwarts are delightful and very respectful. Please do not prove me wrong."
The last sentence seemed more of a statement than a plead.
His voice softened. "Now, about the funeral. It will take place an hour after breakfast tomorrow. Morning classes will be canceled and you will resume your regular schedule after lunch. Your instructions for that time are to finish your breakfast and immediately go to your House Commonroom. You will have an hour to get ready and come back down to this room. Please dress respectfully. You don't need to be totally black, but a dark outfit would be appropriate. You will receive further instructions from there. Thank you."
Dumbledore finished his speech and took a seat.
This time the room was not very loud and noisy, but there still were many whispers among them. Ron stayed silent. He stared at his plate. He didn't feel remotely hungry anymore.
Neville leaned over from the other side of the table. "Are you sure you're okay? Your face is as pale as chalk."
"Yeah, I'm fine. I've just lost my appetite, that's all."
Neville gave him a quiet concerned look before turning back to Seamus.
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::: A/N: This part has no real significance, but it reflects how Hermione feels. Parts of this chapter were taken from JK Rowling's books, which I do not take any credit for. Just for fun you can guess which parts are from which book! ::: Chapter 6: Pure Human ExperiencesHermione awoke with a start. She thought she had heard something. But there was nothing around. It was the same room as always. Her pain had increased slightly, due to the excess movement in her sleep.
She was bored out of her mind. She had done everything she could to keep herself busy. She had played games, like how fast she could speed around or how long she could float in one spot without moving at all. She even counted the number of stone bricks layered to form the walls. There were 124.
Having nothing to do, Hermione leaned against the wall behind her. She was hit with sudden memories of her human life. Flashbacks flew before her eyes.
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'I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley,' said Malfoy, smugly. 'Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team.'
Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.
'Good, aren't they?' said Malfoy smoothly. 'But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them.'
The Slytherin team howled with laughter.
'At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in,' said Hermione sharply. 'They got in on pure talent.'
The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered.
'No one asked your opinion, you filthy Mudblood,' he spat.
Harry knew at once that Malfoy had said something really bad because there was an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, 'How dare you!', and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, 'You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!' and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoy's face.
A loud bang echoed through the stadium and a jet of green light shot out the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.
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Harry checked his face in the mirror. He was back to normal. He put his glasses on as Ron hammered on the door of Hermione's stall.
'Hermione, come out, we've got loads to tell you – '
'Go away!' Hermione squeaked.
Harry and Ron looked at each other.
'What's the matter?' said Ron. 'You must be back to normal by now, we are – '
But Moaning Myrtle glided suddenly through the stall door. Harry had never seen her so happy.
'Ooooooh, wait till you see,' she said. 'It's awful – '
They heard the lock slide back and Hermione emerged, sobbing, her robes pulled up over her head.
'What's up?' said Ron uncertainly. 'Have you still got Millicent's nose or something?'
Hermione let her robes fall and Ron backed into the sink.
Her face was covered in black fur. Her eyes had turned yellow and there were long, pointed ears poking through her hair.
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'Seen anything yet?' Harry asked them after a quarter of an hour's quiet crystal gazing.
'Yeah, there's a burn on this table,' said Ron, pointing. 'Someone's spilled their candle.'
'This is such a waster of time,' Hermione hissed. 'I could be practicing something useful. I could be catching up on Cheering Charms – '
Professor Trelawney rustled past.
'Would anyone like me to help them interpret the shadowy portents within their Orb?' she murmured over the clinking of her bangles.
'I don't need help,' Ron whispered. 'It's obvious what this means. There's gonna be loads of fog tonight.'
Both Harry and Hermione burst out laughing.
'Now, really!' said Professor Trelawney as everyone's heads turned in their direction. Paravati and Lavender were looking scandalized. 'You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!' She approached their table and peered into their crystal ball. Harry felt his heart sinking. He was sure he knew what was coming – '
'There is something here!' Professor Trelawney whispered, lowering her face to the ball, so that is reflected twice in her huge glasses. 'Something moving . . . but what is it?'
Harry was prepared to bet everything he owned, including his Firebolt, that wasn't good news, whatever it was. And sure enough –
'My dear . . . ,' Professor Trelawney breathed gazing up at Harry. 'It is here, plainer than ever before . . . my dear, stalking toward you, growing ever closer . . . the Gr – '
'Oh for goodness' sake!' said Hermione loudly. 'Not that ridiculous Grim again!'
Professor Trelawney raised her enormous eyes to Hermione's face. Parvati whispered something to Lavender, and they both glared at Hermione too. Professor Trelawney stood up, surveying Hermione with unmistakable anger.
'I am sorry to say that from the moment you have arrived in this class, my dear, it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane.'
There was a moment's silence. Then –
'Fine!' said Hermione suddenly, getting up and cramming "Unfogging the Future" back in her bag. 'Fine!' she repeated, swinging the bag over her shoulder and almost knocking Ron off his chair. 'I give up! I'm leaving!'
And to the whole class' amazement, Hermione strode over to the trapdoor, kicked it open, and climbed down the ladder out of sight.
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'Only a week away!' said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. 'I wonder if Cedric knows? I think I'll go and tell him . . . '
'Cedric?' said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off.
'Diggory,' said Harry. 'He must be entering the tournament.'
'That idiot, Hogwarts champion?' Ron said as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase.
'He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch,' said Hermione. 'I've heard he's a really good student – and he's a prefect.'
She spoke as though this settled the matter.
'You only like him because he's handsome,' said Ron scathingly.
'Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!' said Hermione indignantly.
Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like 'Lockhart!'
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Hermione sighed as she slid further down the wall. She never knew how much the little things meant when she was human. She took them all for granted.
Especially the friendship she, Harry and Ron shared. She missed them more than anything else, even her own parents. She wanted more than anything for them to appear and cheer her up, giving her hope, even if it was for just a fleeting minute. She wanted a little bit of cheer in her gloomy world. She wanted them.
But all Hermione had was a bitter darkness, a mirror and a tiny candle.
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NOTICE: For those of you who are religious, toward the end of the chapter Ron and Harry discuss God and things like that. I personally don't think it really matters, but I don't want any reviews criticizing their views. So don't say I didn't tell you!
Chapter 7: A Revealing Conversation
Harry sat at the edge of his bed in his pajamas, staring at the history textbook he was supposed to be reading. His eyes were screening the page as if he was, but the information was not reaching his mind. He was already thinking about the same topic.
It really is my fault, and no one else's. If only I had done something, I could have stopped him . . .
A rustle of movement from the bed next to him interrupted his thoughts. Harry closed the book and put it down next to his bed. He then used his wand to turn off the lamp floating beside him. He then retired under the covers and closed his eyes. He tried to go to sleep, but the same thought kept flashing through his head.
It's all my fault . . .
"Harry? You awake?"
Harry squinted in the darkness, trying to make out who was talking to him. After a few seconds he could see Ron, leaning against the wall behind him, his knees bent underneath his blanket.
"Yeah," he said. "What are you doing up?"
"Just thinking." Ron said casually.
"Me too."
There was a small silence. Then the creaking of a bed nearby made them realize how loud they were.
"Were you thinking about – "
"Yes." Ron read his mind.
Harry propped his head up with his arm, his elbow digging into the soft mattress.
"Ron, I know I haven't been myself lately. I just can't stop thinking about . . . " He took a breath before saying, "Hermione."
"Believe me, you're not alone." Ron spoke very softly, as though he felt exactly the same way.
Silence.
"It just sucks, doesn't it?" Ron said. "I mean, it's so hard that she isn't there when I expect her to be there. I – I feel like . . ."
"Part of you has been wrenched out?" Harry finished.
"Yeah." Ron sighed. "Harry, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"Did you like her?"
Harry was surprised. "Of course I liked her."
"No, I mean like like her."
Harry pondered for a few moments. "I honestly don't know. I never really thought of her as any more than a friend." Harry's eyes shifted toward the ceiling. "The thought never crossed my mind. What about you?"
"I . . . I don't really know either. I guess I never got a chance to find out."
Harry's gaze returned to Ron. "You mean you thought about it?"
Ron looked a little guilty. "Well . . . I never took it seriously."
"You never take anything seriously," Harry teased.
Ron smiled as he replied. "Yes I do!"
"Oh yeah? Name three things you take seriously!"
"Food, Snape and spiders!" Ron said.
They both started laughing until they heard someone say, "Shhhhhh!"
There was yet another silence.
"Ron, do you think there is a God?"
He considered the question before slowly answering. "I haven't decided yet. Sometimes life is so wonderful I think it can't get any better. Then I think there is a God because I'm so happy. But other times life gets so unbelievably crappy that I curse everything in sight, and I think that if there is a God he must not be paying much attention to his job. Right now . . . I'm undecided. What about you?"
"Until I came here I thought God was just someone I was forced to pray to every Sunday and say thanks to. Then I came here and I thought it was all a miracle." He paused. "I do think there is a God. I would still be suffering a horrible life with the Dursleys if there wasn't."
Silence.
"Do you think Hermione's gone to a heaven?"
Ron shrugged. "If she has, the angels had better pray they have one hell of a library!"
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Chapter 8: Fifteen Minutes From Hell"So, what are you gonna wear?" Ron scrambled through the clothes sprawled out on his bed. He was piling things on each other, tossing pants and shirts aside, looking for something nice to wear.
Harry had made up his mind. "I'm not going." He sat watching Ron, his eyes following every pant, shirt or shoe that was tossed aside.
He stopped. "What do you mean 'you're not going'?"
"I mean I'm not going."
Ron's eyes drifted back to the pile of clothes, and started searching again. "Oh course you are," he said while throwing a shoe under the bed. "You have to."
"Why? So I can see her and prove to myself that she's dead?"
Ron stopped again. Harry sat hugging his knees, watching the clouds drift by outside the window. They were dark, as if upset.
"Harry, you're not going to like this, but you're acting very childish. You're hiding from your fears instead of confronting them. And that isn't the Harry I used to know. The Harry Potter I knew would do anything for a friend, to protect and help them. He would brave the greatest danger for anyone. That was something I admired about you, Harry." Ron looked down at his bed. "But you're someone else now. Someone I don't know. Sometimes I get scared of that person, thinking it replaced the Harry who is my best friend in the entire world. You've changed a lot. But if you don't come to the funeral, just know this one thing."
Ron put on the clothes he picked, which were dark and gloomy, as he started out the door. "Just remember this. Remember how good your life was before. It's not to late to be happy again. Ever."
With that he left, leaving Harry in astonishment.
That was so unlike Ron, Harry thought. He sat exactly where he had when Ron was there, this time all alone. He shivered.
Maybe he's right, maybe I am acting childish. He was there to support me, and what did I give him in return?
A tiny voice in the back of his head answered. Nothing.He closed his eyes. Ron was been the best friend possible to me. He opened his eyes with determination. And it's about time I become the best friend possible to him.
He stood and glanced at the clock. 9:45. He had 15 minutes to be ready.
He started doing the same thing Ron had, but two times faster. He finally chose black pants, a gray T-shirt and his dark Hogwarts cape. He then found a pair of gray socks, his usual black leather shoes. He then changed into those clothes, making sure there was nothing hanging out, flopping around or wrinkled up.
Then he rushed into the bathroom. He quickly looked himself over. Disgusted at his messy hair, Harry grabbed a nearby comb and tried to fix it. Try as he might, his hair would not cooperate. Being desperate, he snatched a bottle of grease, but stopped and shook himself.
He stared at the bottle of grease. On the label were the words, "Gretchen's Hair-Fixing Gel!" There was a boy with greased hair who kept smiling and giving him thumbs up. Then a question appeared. "Are you tired of that messy, unmanageable hair? Use Gretchen's Hair-Fixing Gel!"
Harry dropped the bottle. Yeah, right! I'm never gonna grease my hair and look like Malfoy!
He gasped as he looked at the clock. 9:57. He had been distracted with the gel for five precious minutes. He ran out the bathroom door, patting his cape to make sure his wand was there and ready. Then he sprinted out and down the stairs.
After running as fast as he could, Harry spotted Ron. Only then did he slow down and walk toward him.
"Harry?" Ron said as he saw Harry approaching. "You came!"
Harry was still gasping for breath. When his heart had slowed down and his head stopped spinning, he spoke.
"Best friends don't let each other down," Harry said with a smile.
Ron returned the smile and together they walked into the Great Hall.
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Chapter 9: The Fires of Hell UnleashedThe Great Hall looked nothing like it had before. "Oh, great," said Ron, "My allergies are thrilled."
While Ron was started to sneeze multiple times in a row, Harry was looking around, fascinated. The place was packed with students, teachers, and ghosts. Harry and Ron had to push through the crowd to get to anywhere.
White roses were the most common of the flowers. They were on the floor near the walls, hung up on the walls and floating in the air. Many were wrapped in red bows. The atmosphere was filled with sobbing, coughing, and low voices. Many of the girls who were Hermione's close friends were crying openly. There were about twenty gliding tissue boxes, some stationed next to a person who was crying.
One of the tissue boxes, a green one, floated toward Harry and Ron. Harry almost jumped when he heard it say, "Need a tissue, lad?"
Harry, wide-eyed, said, "No thanks."
Ron, who was still sneezing, took one and wiped his nose with it. Between sneezing he said, "Thanks."
"Take a couple more," said the tissue box, "Just in case."
Ron took a few more and nodded thanks. The box then floated toward someone else.
"Are you going for the record?" Harry asked Ron quietly.
Ron suddenly stopped sneezing for a while. He rolled his eyes. "I was!"
Something else caught Harry's eye. There was a big, wooden coffin in the middle of the room. He walked toward it, and in the corner of his eye he saw Ron talking to Fred and George, whose noses were also bright red from sneezing.
Harry reached the coffin, almost afraid to look inside. It took Harry a few moments and a deep breath to finally peek inside.
He caught his breath. He saw Hermione, lying on a soft, crimson pillow. She seemed so peaceful. Her eyes were closed, her face toward the heavens. Her normally bushy hair was straight, elegantly spread around her. Her skin was pale and her cheeks were a slightly pink. Her lips were painted a red, which scared Harry because she never wore any makeup. She was wearing a white dress, made of silk. Her were folded across her chest, holding a single blood-red rose. Two candles burned at both ends of the coffin.
Harry stood in shock. He was so used to her school uniform, wild hair and natural face. He had never seen her in such elegance. Harry found himself praying, hoping that Hermione would wake up and rise up from the coffin, as alive as she used to be. But she did not. She continued to lay motionless in a beautiful cold death.
As he glanced in front of him, he was startled. He thought for a moment that Hermione had risen. But upon a closer look, he realized it wasn't her. The girl had raven, straight hair and emerald eyes. She was watching Hermione's face just as he was. She seemed to sense his gaze and looked up. As their eyes met, Harry felt a slight shiver run through him. She reminded him of Hermione . . . a lot.
The girl gave him a small smile, and he returned it with a forced smile. Harry suddenly heard laughter. He spun around, searching for who it was. What he saw did not surprise him.
Malfoy was snickering with Crabbe and Goyle in one corner of the room. It enraged Harry that they were laughing and joking around in any funeral, let alone Hermione's!
Ron appeared at Harry's side. He seemed to sense that Harry was tense. "What's the matter?" Then he looked were Harry was looking and immediately understood.
"Don't bother yourself with those jack asses," Ron told Harry, "They mean to stir up trouble. Don't make it easier for them."
He knew this was good advice, but Harry was still watching Malfoy like a hawk watching its prey. He could make out what they were saying.
"That's a good one, Malfoy," said Crabbe.
"Okay, here's one for the occasion," Malfoy said. "What rhymes with witch, and is lying over there?" He motioned toward Hermione's coffin. Crabbe and Goyle laughed.
Harry could take it no longer. He walked up to them, fists clenched. Ron was with him the entire time. He was as angry as Harry was. Malfoy saw them standing in front of him and sneered.
"It seems Potter is a little upset," said Malfoy. "And Weasel, too. What ever could be the matter?"
"You'd better shut up, Malfoy," Harry replied.
"Or what, Potter?" He turned to Crabbe and Goyle. "Hey guys, we'd better watch ourselves. The Mudblood's two boyfriends are getting angry."
Harry and Ron lost it. They jumped on Malfoy at the same time, knocking him to the ground. A crowd suddenly formed around them. While Ron started punching Malfoy in the face, Crabbe and Goyle went into action. They both reached down and pulled Ron off Malfoy, punching and kicking him. Ron fought back, but he was no match for two bigger boys. Meanwhile, Malfoy managed to get Harry off of him and got up. While Harry was trying to stand, Malfoy kicked him in the head, very hard. His head throbbed, but he didn't stop. He pushed Malfoy against the wall. Malfoy managed to get his hands around Harry's neck and started choking him. Harry gripped his hands, attempting to wrench them off. He punched Malfoy's nose. Malfoy let go and held his nose. Blood seeped through his fingers.
"Enough!" Professor McGonogall screamed. She pushed through the crowd to where they were standing, and had clearly lost her temper. "Enough of this childishness!"
Harry turned around to face her, his glasses dangling from his face. Malfoy was still holding his nose, blood all over his hands. Crabbe and Goyle didn't seem very hurt, but Ron looked like he had received the beating of his life. He was covered in bruises and limping. Professor McGonogall stared at all of them. Harry could almost see the fire in her eyes.
"Explain yourselves!"
Malfoy stepped forward. "They attacked me, Professor! I did nothing wrong!"
"You bloody liar!" Harry made a move toward Malfoy, but Fred and George appeared and held him back. "Calm down, Harry," they said.
"Potter, I will not tolerate that language!" McGonogall snapped. As she said this, a tissue box floated over. It hovered next to Malfoy. He snatched two tissues, which he used to cover his nose. The tissue box then left the scene, muttering, "Tsk, tsk. Young people these days."
McGonogall was not done. She was still very angry. "I am very disappointed in you. All of you! Such behavior! Especially at a funeral! I should think you know better!" Her eyes were on Harry when she said this. "Go to Professor Dumbledore's office! We shall discuss you immaturity and punishment there!"
Malfoy went first, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. Harry started walking after them, Ron limping at his side. Everyone in the Great Hall was in silence. Before he left the Great Hall, Harry noticed the raven-haired girl watching him. He met her gaze as he exited.
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Author's Note: That's all I have right now. What do you think? I've only gotten three reviews ever (two of which belonged to my friend)! I don't want to beg but . . . I AM!!!