Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. They all belong to or my co-writer on this fiction. They all belong to J.K. Rowling and WB now with the movies and all.

A/N: Hello all I won't delay this for long the only thing I really believe need to be said is that this is co-written by me intofire101 and on of my good friends, Canticle. So please enjoy this prologue brought to you by intofire101 and Canticle.

When The Moon Goes Backwards

Prologue: Before Backwards.

The pain of grief was sharper than any blade Hermione had ever known. Its darkness carved at her insides madly. There was no one left, no one but her. Sure, outside her walls the entire wizarding world still rejoiced at its freedom from the Dark Lord. The mourning would come afterwards when everyone finally realized who they had lost.

". . . neither can live while the other survives. . ."

What rubbish. It had given her such hope His body had never been found and well neither had Voldemort's for that matter. For weeks they had searched, physically and magically for some sign . . . anything! But all the spells and the scrying had come up with only one conclusion: Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the wizarding world's champion, was dead and with him he had taken his greatest foe. His life had been given to save the magical world he loved so deeply.

And as for Ron, she hadn't been so lucky in having a prophecy that she could have hope for. They had found his corpse; eyes glazed over and body cold from the Avada Kedavra curse he had sought to protect her from. Hermione had been under him, as his long body toppled on top of her. She although severely injured, was only unconscious all the magic in the world and she had been felled by a bloody rock. Somehow the death eaters missed her, probably because they were watching as the final battle took place. Harry fed by the intense anguish he had felt in think his best friends were dead finally gained the power enough to kill Voldemort.

And as Hermione reviewed these thoughts, the angrier she became at herself. Not strong enough to protect anybody. Not smart enough to watch her own back. She was so . . . deficient.

The Weasley family had welcomed her into their home afterwards but it wasn't the same. Molly could only cry and Mr. Weasley walked around like a ghost muttering things to himself. Bill was too angry to speak to anyone including his new wife civilly; the werewolf in him was coming out more and more when he lost control. Charlie left shortly after the funeral unable or unwilling to take the pain of the death of his youngest brother. George had tried desperately to joke about it somehow seeing laughter as an end to the grief but his macabre comments had alienated him from Fred who became annoyed by his twin's mere presence. Both had grown up after Ron's death more somber men then prankster boys.

And Ginny, Ginny was by far the worst. Perhaps the only one who could understand Hermione's pain now hated her. Ginny blamed Hermione fully for her brother's death and at the least partially for Harry's. Whenever she entered the room Ginny would scowl and leave. Hermione hadn't heard Ginny speak since before the last battle.

She had no one to talk to, no one to hold her when she sobbed late at night when the loneliness was the worst.

But that would end tonight. She was sick of magic, it brought so much pain. Sure there was a little joy but the trade was too unfair. That's why she had wandered back to Hogwarts, reminiscing about all of the good memories they had shared there. She stared at the castle. If only, if only there had been no Dark Lord or the very least he had died the first time he had gone up against Harry. Then the three of them would be in the midst of their seventh year, doing all the things young witches and wizards did.

When she had quit school, her parents had basically disowned her, not understanding how schooling could not be the top priority. I mean how could they know of the evils Voldemort had wrought? The need for soldiers to fight him?

But it was all for the better no one would miss her when she left the past and the magical world forever.

She had been unable to find a spell that would erase her memories well enough that no one, not even the most powerful wizards in the world now could retrieve them. So she had wrote her own, toiled at its creation mercilessly and melding it with a transportation spell that would put her in a place no one would recognize her as "that girl who was friends with Harry Potter," wherever that may be. Her life savings in her pocket, ready to start a new life, she closed her eyes, took out her wand and tapped lightly on her head whispering the spell.

And she forgot everything.