Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter, or any other related subjects. As you know, this is all owned by the wonderful JK Rowling.

A/N: This is our first fan fiction, so please let us know how we're doing! The first chapter will be a bit shorter than the others, and also more depressing. Don't worry, the story will pick up and get happier soon. Updates should be weekly, but as college students, our schedules can get hectic, and unfortunately, school always comes first. So without further ado…

Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter 1

"A Hero's Death"


Why did everything have to go so wrong? Nobody was supposed to die…at least not yet. They weren't supposed to disappear; and He, He wasn't supposed to find them, not until they destroyed the very last one…


May 20th 1998

Standing in the entrance of the Great Hall, Hermione Granger shook her head in disbelief. Having been completely transformed in the last three days, the once familiar room was unrecognizable. The four house tables had been pushed against the walls and in their place stood a singular wooden table. She sighed, remembering the times when the hall had been so cheerful and full of life. Now an overwhelming sense of sorrow hung heavy in the air, and the silence was deafening. A stifled sob woke Hermione from her reverie, reminding her of why she was here, and what she had to do. A frail looking witch was standing at the far end of the hall, hunched over a body that Hermione recognized as a Hufflepuff second year. She made her way over to the sobbing woman, and placed a hand sympathetically on her shoulder.

"Shhh…." Hermione soothed, her voice barely above a whisper, "he died a hero's death."

The witch continued to cry. "He was just…so… young," she choked between her tears.

"There, there, it'll be alright," she said calmly, spotting yet another bereaved Witch entering the hall, "I'll get someone to help you." Sighing once again, Hermione left the woman grieving over her dead son.

She made her way back to the front of the hall, passing by the dozens of dead bodies lined up on the table. Each was covered by their respective house banner, creating an odd sort of tablecloth. Why had so many innocent bystanders been killed? They hadn't meant for any of this to happen…


They had been in the library when they heard the first screams. All thoughts of finding the last horcrux had been wiped from their minds as they tore through the corridors and out onto the grounds. The high-pitched laughter could only mean one thing: that Voldemort had discovered what they'd done to Nagini. Harry darted away towards the source of the laughter, while she and Ron had desperately tried to protect the castle. She watched in horror as one by one, the students fell.


Hermione reached the woman, and saw that it was Neville's grandmother. "Mrs. Longbottom," she started, "I'm so sorry."

"Ms. Granger," she replied curtly, "there is no need to apologize. I couldn't be more proud of him. He finally followed in his parents' footsteps."

"We're all proud of him, Mrs. Longbottom. Would you like to see him now?"

"Yes, thank you."

Hermione led the way to where she knew Neville's body was resting. She walked up to the red and gold banner, and smiled for a moment, knowing that he had shown true Gryffindor bravery. She pulled back the banner to reveal his lifeless face.


Inevitably, they were losing the battle. How could a group of inexperienced students possibly stand a chance against dozens of trained Death Eaters? Even though Order members had arrived on the scene shortly after Voldemort, no one was prepared for this attack. Hermione dodged curses as she made her way over to where Harry and Voldemort were dueling. Not paying attention to the ground, she tripped and fell over a body. Her attention, however, was immediately drawn to a young boy backing up against a tree. As a Death Eater closed in on him, the boy sunk to the ground and started to cry. He was about to be killed when Neville Longbottom pushed through a crowd of people, and ran between him and the curse. His body was strangely illuminated by the bolt of green light before he crumpled and fell to the ground. Hermione bit back a scream as she stared at her friend's dead body.


Mrs. Longbottom's eyes filled with tears. "I'm going to miss him," she remarked softly. She thanked Hermione quietly, and left with Neville's body.

As the day wore on, Hermione continued to help countless families find their deceased loved ones. Some came to her resigned to the fact that they would never see their child again, while others sobbed openly, Hermione providing a shoulder to cry on. She knew their pain, for many of her loved ones were lying in this hall as well. It was hard to believe that so many of her classmates were gone. Now, Hermione no longer distinguished between friends and enemies; they were all equal in her eyes and she was truly sorrowed by their deaths. At one point, she noticed a tuft of silvery-blond hair poking out from under a Slytherin banner. She paused for a moment, and felt remorse at knowing that no one would be collecting this body. At sunset, Hermione left the Great Hall. After being surrounded by grief and despair all day, she needed the solace of her two best friends. Unfortunately, she knew that when she went outside, she would only find the comfort of one.

She was halfway across the entrance hall when Professor McGonagall came down the marble staircase.

"Ms. Granger, could you wait a moment?" she asked, striding across the room. Hermione stopped and turned, catching McGonagall's eye.

"Yes, Professor?" she asked. Hermione noticed that the battle had also taken its toll on the Headmistress of Hogwarts. McGonagall had a haggard look about her; her hair was disheveled and falling from its bun, her robes were wrinkled, and her face was lined with anxiety. She was no longer the composed professor of two years ago, but rather, a weary woman.

"Hermione, I'd like to thank you for all that you've done lately," she said, "you've been such a great help; I don't know what we would have done without you."

"It's no problem," Hermione insisted, "really, Professor, I don't mind at all. It helps me keep my mind off things…" Her voice trailed off.

"Well, I just want you to know I'm here if you need anything."

Hermione shifted her weight uncomfortably. Although she didn't want to admit it, she did need McGonagall's help, she needed someone to talk to, someone who would understand. Yet she wondered how to tell her professor everything that was bothering her: her depression at losing her parents, her friends, so many people she had loved like family. How could she describe the haunted look the grounds now had, or the vivid recollections of the battle constantly drifting across her mind? Would McGonagall even understand her feelings of injustice; that this shouldn't happen to any eighteen year old? What about her feeling of impeding hopelessness… Yet, she found it impossible to unburden herself on a woman just as overwhelmed as she was; the past year had not taken kindly to McGonagall.

"Thanks Professor, but I'll be fine," Hermione said and with a small smile she turned and strode out the entrance hall.