In my old age, pictures were everything. Pictures kept your memory alive, and they were your only link to the past. I had lost connections with everyone, and nothing seemed fair. I let out a little chuckle, I was feeling like my sixteen year old self. A knock from outside my door, pulled me away from my memories.
"Mrs. Weasley, I hope you're not sitting in that room without any lights on!" A voice called.
"Mrs. Granger!" I called out hoarsely. If only I could remember the name of the young woman outside my door, as well as I remember my first year at Hogwarts. I heard the doorknob turn, and immediately whispered a charm for the shades to open up. The bright light instantly flooded the room, and it was harder than ever to remember what happened when I was eleven. The door opened fully, and I turned in my stiff chair. Lauren, Lauren was the girl's name, and she was no girl. The daughter of Harry Potter, and Luna Lovegood, was nearly what, thirty-eight years now. She even had a daughter of her own! Soon enough, Lauren's daughter, Mystic (I had gaffed at the name. What a name! Obviously Luna had some decision on her name!) entered the room shortly after.
"Aunt Hermione!" She called out, waving about a parchment. A parchment? How peculiar. These days they had used those electronic muggle things.
Lauren giggled, from where she sat on my bed. Mystic walked over to me, handing her parchment into her spider veined hands. I glanced at Lauren, and then back at Mystic who wore her eyes as wide as Luna once had. I unrolled the parchment, glancing at it for only a moment before my eyes caught the large signature at the bottom. Signed, Headmaster Neville Longbottom. I didn't even realize what this signified, until I got over the initial feeling of happiness from my friend, a fellow Gryffindor, taking Albus Dumbledore's spot as headmaster. I couldn't think of a better person to continue Dumbledore's work.
I nearly fell out my chair, as I properly reread the letter. I threw my old skinny arms around her neck, pulling her into me, and nearly falling when I realized how rooted to the spot she was. "Congratulations Mystic! And I believe I owe you a Happy Birthday. Honestly, I don't know where my mind is these!"
"Aunt Hermione, you woke me up with a Happy Birthday!" Mystic said with a wrinkle in her nose. Oh, my ailing memory.
"I remember when I received my Hogwarts acceptance letter. My parents were thrilled! A witch in the family!" I remembered, going back to a faraway place and time. My eleven year old self, but those memories were dangerous, so I instantly shut them away.
Lauren got up from the bed, a wrinkle where she was previously sitting. "Come along now, Mystic. Somehow we have to tell your father you posses a certain quality of mine."
As soon as the click that mean the door was locked in its proper place, I counter charmed the curtains so the pulled back down. Darkness was good for my memories. I couldn't see the present things that made me stay rooted to the time. I fiddled my thumbs in my lap, wondering how much of Hogwarts had changed since it had been my year there. The door knob turned quickly, and I didn't have any time to open the curtains. I sighed. I was caught.
"Mother hates it when you sit in the dark, you know." Mystic climbed into the arm of the chair, as close to me as she could manage. "Personally, I don't understand why. Maybe you do. But I like the dark. It's much easier to think."
"And I like you, Mystic. When you talk, it is easier to understand what I'm feeling. I wish you were there when I was going to Hogwarts." I admitted. Lauren always expected me to talk, and I never had the energy. I'd rather sit and wallow in my memories.
Mystic beamed at me, and I was grateful I said something kind. "Why? What kind of problems did you have at Hogwarts?" Mystic asked, seeming genuinely interested.
I knew Mystic expected me to blow it off with a 'another story, another day'. But I just had to tell her something. "In my first year I helped Harry Potter battle Voldermort. In my second, I helped find out the heir to the Slytherin throne. The third we found out the truth about your grandfather's godfather. The fourth was reserved for the triwizard tournament, and my fifth, my last year, Albus Dumbledore was killed."
"Herr-moiii-neee," she whined "I know all that! Tell me about the things that no one knows. Like secrets between you and grandfather. What really happened!"
Again, Mystic looked ready for a decline, so I only whispered accio to get us some hot chocolates. Mystic looked elated, and I squirmed in my chair, getting comfortable for a long, long story that no one has ever heard before.