Prologue
Well, it would have been nice to think that Ron and Hermione fell in love and lived Happily Ever After, now wouldn't it? It certainly seemed to be ending that way where we left off! But, every so often, life will take a good swing at you when your guard is down; these are the punches that hit you the hardest, as well as the ones that leave to deepest scars. Unfortunately for our happy protagonists, (i.e. Ron and Hermione) life smacked them extra hard, and was wearing a spiked glove.
As we know, Lord Voldemort (a.k.a. You-know-who, a.k.a. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a.k.a. the Dark Lord) was returned to power near the end of Ron and Hermione's fourth year. This caused mild panic, to say the least, but still, nothing out of the ordinary happened, so after a while people began to think that either a) maybe it was all a sham, b) maybe the Dark Lord wasn't as all-powerful as he was made out to be, or c) maybe the Dark Lord had come to his senses and wasn't evil any more. (Though it was precious few who believed that.) They began to let their guard down, to not pay utmost attention to security, until everyone had all but forgotten that Voldemort was back.
It was right before Christmas in Ron and Hermione's fifth year when he struck again. He had waited patiently for an appropriate opening, and, at 7:42 PM on the evening of Sunday, December 16th, he spotted it. It was smack in the middle of the Hogwarts Christmas dance, when everyone was happy and laughing. It was the perfect scenario for two reasons: no one was expecting an attack, and it would ruin a good mood.
He had managed to sneak in, disguised as a student, using a Polyjuice potion. Hiding in one of the massive Christmas trees that adorned the Great Hall, he waited for the perfect moment for the attack. He was planning on creating a huge cloud of poisonous gas and centralize it over the dancers, not letting any of the deadly vapors escape until just when he wanted them to. Since all the students and staff were at the dance, it would be the perfect opportunity to kill as many people as he could. He would have succeeded, too, except that one student had sensed the tainted evil of his presence and tipped everyone off before he had a chance to complete the spell. With all his victims running out the doors for dear life, spreading to fill the castle and its grounds, his plan no longer worked. To envelop the entire Hogwarts property with the poisonous gas was to kill himself, as well, something which he did not want. It was all he could do to send jets of fire and Avada Kedravas in every which direction, and pretend that he had planned the massacre.
The school was evacuated almost immediately; all the students sent home to their families. Many of the Ministry of Magic employees were place on assignment in Muggle communities, to keep an ear open for any clues to Lord Voldemort's whereabouts. A good many friendships and blossoming loves were torn apart that week, and Christmas was virtually nonexistent. Who wanted to party when there was a mad killer to be had? The festivities would attract too much attention, they said. Better to be on the safe side, spend the holiday mending cuts and patching tears, and wait until next year to celebrate.
All over Europe, the magical community went into hiding. Communication between friends, extended family and comrades was limited to letters, and face to face meetings were banned. Hogwarts School was empty but for its many ghosts and elves, and even Hagrid, the faithful old gamekeeper had moved out. Some of the more dedicated students kept up their studies through correspondence and books, others not. Fear and paranoia ran rampant.
Nearly two years after the initial attack, Hermione Granger sat straight up in bed, pressing her hand to her mouth.
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