"Gryffindor wins."
That used to be a phrase to make Hermione Granger feel a happy thrill. When they beat Slytherin at Quidditch, owing to Harry's excellent performance as Seeker. When Professor Dumbledore gave Gryffindor the "last-minute points" that secured the House Cup for them, not the Slytherins. Any time when Harry and Ron outsmarted Malfoy, Hermione felt furiously proud.
"Gryffindor wins."
Lord Voldemort and his Nazi ideas – all of that coming from Slytherin too! Thankfully Harry defeated him in the end – with the loss of many lives, Gryffindor still reigned supreme.
"Gryffindor wins."
Everyday squabbles at the Ministry with those who managed to outsmart the victorious army. Wormed their way back. And sometimes, Hermione couldn't help but notice how similar Scorpius Malfoy was… no, not to his father – to Harry. When James and Albus Potter bullied him, bragging about Harry's defeat of Lord Voldemort. Rose supported them, too, and with a shiver Hermione realized she was way too much like Pansy Parkinson.
Pansy Parkinson, who used to belong to one of the richest families, was a waitress at the Leaky Cauldron.
"Gryffindor wins."
"Ron, we need to talk to James and Albus. The way they're treating Scorpius Malfoy… it's disgusting!"
"Oh, come now, Mione. He's a Slytherin, what else do they deserve?"
"Gryffindor wins."
"A higher position? Head of Non-Human Department?"
"Yes, Minister Shacklebolt. I am almost forty, and I still work with N.E.W.T.s who have their summer practice!"
"But Mrs. Weasley, you don't know enough about the wizarding world. Head of Department, oh no, I can't allow it. But you'll receive an award for helping the house-elf. Say, ten thousand Galleons?"
…
"Really, Hermione! If Shacklebolt thinks you too inexperienced… well, what's so bad about your job now?"
"Gryffindor wins."
They are exactly the same. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Their luck changes. Their coats of arms are different. But they are pretty much the same.
A Muggle-born? Yes, she's clever, but she cannot have a high position, oh no. Reading books? Hermione, are you still a student? You'd better cook something fancy – Harry comes for a celebration of the twentieth anniversary of our victory.
Do nothing. Bask in the glory of the triumph of your eighteen-year-old self, aided by several brilliant wizards and a couple of lucky stars.
"Gryffindor wins."
"Oh, Captain Rendall, do pick my husband for the team. He has dreamed of it all along, playing Keeper for England."
A tragic accident put an early end to this week's Quidditch semifinal match. English Keeper Ronald Weasley, hero of the Wizarding War, has been hit by a Bludger between the eyes and killed on the spot. Mrs. Hermione Weasley (née Granger, best known for her courage and brilliance during the War as well) is disconsolate; however, she has stated she doesn't blame the rivaling Bulgarian team in the least. Minister Shacklebolt is on the verge of changing the rules of Quidditch, outlawing the use of Bludgers, in the light of these events.
Gryffindor didn't win, for once.
So easy. Leave the children in the care of Harry – let them grow up in that sugary Gryffindor-wins world. Tell the journalists she wishes to go away, from the memories.
How foolish people really are. No one paid attention to the fact that halfway through the Quidditch Championship the celebrated Seeker of Bulgaria suddenly decided he'd rather be a Beater. No one bothered to notice that after these semifinals, he resigned – because of the stress, he said. No one realized how odd it was that the war hero's widow went to the Black Sea of all places.
No one can explain the disappearance – vanishing away from people is very easy in fact.
The Daily Prophet is delivered to Ada Janescu, an obscure old witch in an obscure Transylvanian village. No one apparently knows that ADA JANESCU is written on a gravestone, with 1870-1987 engraved below. She was so insignificant no one knew she was dead, and if not for the wand Viktor found when looking around their new house, no one would have known she had been a witch.
"Gryffindor wins!"
So announces the front page of a fresh issue. It's the Triwizard Tournament again. Albus Severus Potter holds the prize.
His black locks tidy, for once.
In his eyes, a bright red glint.
AN: I don't know what's gotten into me, with the fact that I hate Ron-bashing and making Dark!good characters, but here it is.
