Dear Mom and Dad,
I miss you. Funny, how I've spent most of my time at Hogwarts these last years, but this is so much worse. I suppose it's because this time I know that I wouldn't get a reply, even if you were to receive this letter.
We - Harry, Ronald and I - are doing fine. Not great, but fine. We're not even near to the end of our pursuit, but at least we are closer than we were in the beginning of the summer. Before you ask, no, I cannot tell you what it is exactly that we are doing. Our best protection at the moment is secrecy. If our intentions were to leak, the enemy would know what to fight and that would put an end to our resistance.
I'm sorry. I don't even know why I wrote that. Of course you wouldn't ask me questions. You don't even know who I am by now.
There is a great deal of agitation and fright in the air. It has been so ever since the events in spring and not only amongst wizards and witches. I can't explain it, but there is this feeling of hopelessness everywhere we go. There is no proper plan yet and I can tell that the boys are getting more and more frustrated. These days it seems like we are all trying to find a bit of separation of others, a little space of our own to deal with our sorrow. It feels like there is nobody to trust anymore, so we need to trust each other completely, but even that is getting more difficult. I guess that's what war does to people.
As the winter is nearing, the weather here is getting colder and colder. I swear, soon most of the spells we will be doing are for heat. I doubt that is the case in Australia. I hope you are having a good time. I promise I will find you after all this is over. I miss you.
With all my love,
Hermione, your daughter
"Hermione, could you come here for a moment?" Harry's voice came from the tent. "I think Ron and I might have found something."
"In a minute!" she quickly got up from her spot under a tree and did a small motion with her wand. The piece of paper was ripped into tiny pieces and soon it had disappeared completely just like many letters before this one. Written, but never meant to be read.