A/N:School:Beauxbatons

Year:5

Theme:Expecto Patronum

Prompt: Mirror of Erised

Word count:1527

Notes:This takes place at the beginning of the 5th year. I've tried to make it fit in with canon;please read and review!


Hermione couldn't sleep.

It figured, though. She'd never been the best at adjusting to new places, and this was no exception.

Why was the bed so lumpy? Her blanket was worse, if possible; it felt rough and itchy.

Well, she reflected, it was only the second week of the new term. After sleeping for a month on her own bed, it undoubtedly would feel uncomfortable.

She sat up, exasperated. This absolutely would not do: she had school the following day!

Something was troubling her, she felt. Had she forgotten any homework?

With a feeling of growing dread, she remembered that she'd not done her Potions homework.

How is that possible? she wondered, hurriedly swinging her legs over the side of her four-poster bed. I finished all the work I had been given, plus those Transfiguration and Charms essays! Am I imagining things?

When she reached the common room, she realized why. She'd left her books in the Potions dungeon.

I can't get it now. It's too dangerous, with all the security that's on this place .I'll be caught and expelled for rule-breaking or something even worse.

But she had to: she had a Potions class next morning, during the first period of school. Snape would skin her alive if the "insufferable-know it all" forgot her homework. She gritted her teeth at the memory.

Even worse, Gryffindor would definitely lose at fifty points (if they were lucky). She couldn't let that happen: what would the House say if a prefect lost them fifty (or more) hard-earned house points? What if they lost the House Cup this year because of her?

She had to, she decided. She needed to get her books and do it immediately.

With her mind made up, she cast a Disillusionment charm on herself before stepping out through the portrait hole.

The castle was eerily dark. She lighted her wand once she reached the dungeon level, hoping Filch wasn't around; its light cast midnight blue shadows on the cold stone walls.

At the sign of a light from Snape's dungeon, she whispered,"Nox", more than a little surprised.

Cautiously, she peered around the entrance.

There was no one in the dungeon; her books weren't there either. But the most unnerving thing by far was the silvery animal softly prancing around the room.

She walked closer….it was a doe.

It was beautiful, almost lifelike, bluish-silver and soft. It came to a stop and landed near the door, almost as if it could sense the girl hiding nearby. A Patronus, she remembered. But why would it be here? There were no Dementors nearby… were there? She could feel its warmth through the chill the dungeon's stone walls emitted; it was reassuringly comforting. She reached out a hand to stroke it, and it nudged her hand with its smoky nose before dissolving into nothingness.

At the sound of footsteps from outside the dungeon, she fled.

~ooOOOoo~

As she walked up and down the corridor in front of the Room of Requirement, she thought desperately, I need the place where things left behind are found.

The door opened, and she stepped in.

The Room was full almost to bursting: old cloaks, books, hats and many more forgotten items lined the walls. Thankfully, her books were on a chair near her.

She grabbed them and was about to leave when a glint of light caught her eye; she followed it to a corner of the Room.

It was a mirror.

She approached warily: things in the Wizarding World were commonly dangerous to the unwary user. However, this one looked harmless. As she advanced towards it from the side, she caught sight of the sentence that had been elegantly carved into its frame: Erised srta ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. She tried translating it in every language she knew, but the sight that met her when she stepped in front of it stopped her in her tracks.

In the middle of it, she stood tall; different, yet similar. Her hair was sleek and loose, her posture confident. She was surrounded by girls. They did not look familiar to her, but they all seemed to like her: they were caressing her mirror-figure, laughing and chatting. She seemed to be one of them.

Looking at it, in that brief moment, she felt content. She felt warmth filling her up, rolling through her chest, filling her with contentment and hope and promise, a feeling she had never experienced before.

She read the sentence backwards, and understood.

A single tear rolled down her cheek.


A few weeks later, at a DA meeting

"Today, we'll be working on producing Patronuses," Harry announced to the group at large.

"Think of your happiest memory…"

A few minutes later, Hermione realized, with growing frustration, that her Patronus was refusing to appear.

Half an hour into the practice, a smoky figure emerged from the tip of her wand-not corporeal, but it was something.

"What's the matter?" Ron inquired at the next meeting, watching his doggish Patronus circle the room. The fact that he had succeeded in casting the Patronus Charm fairly quickly was a point of envy to many, but he did have an uncanny ability at perfecting many charms Harry had taught them; he insisted that it was all because of the brilliance of his teacher. "I've never known you to have trouble casting a spell!"

"Ron, lay off," said Harry, sensing Hermione's disappointment. "Anything wrong, Hermione?"

Of course something's wrong! Voldemort's wreaking havoc out there, and I can't even get this spell right! But you boys never understand, do you? "It's just taking some time," she replied smoothly, trying not to seem too worried. "I'll get it in the end."

Harry adjusted her grip on her wand slightly and commented softly, "What memory were you thinking of?"

Caught off guard, she stuttered, "The day we won the House Cup."

"I tried that once," he said. "It didn't work very well, believe me. Have you tried remembering the day you got your Hogwarts letter and realized you'd be coming here? That worked for me." He grinned and walked away to help Cho.

She did remember that day. Since she was Muggle-born, one of the Hogwarts teachers-Professor Sinistra, who taught Astronomy-had come to explain to her parents exactly what Hogwarts was about.

At first, she'd been sceptical, like many others: how could a simple girl like her be a witch? However, things had started falling into place, like how the girls who had teased her about her crooked teeth when she was nine had fallen and injured her knee hardly thirty seconds later. She had started believing, and by the end of the day, her parents had been convinced too.

But that hadn't been the best part.

At her old school…well, she had some friends, but very, very few. Most people had preferred to steer clear of her, maybe because the teachers liked her, she outshone them, or because of the simple fact that she was shy. She had always been shy. It was a part of her. Because of that, she'd been teased, left out from games and much more. When there were activities in which the students had to work in pairs, some children preferred to work alone, rather than with the "shy, awkward girl that no one really knew." Honestly, she couldn't blame them: it was true. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Now, she had gotten the chance to escape, to leave that all behind her, to try to be more likable and make new friends. She could forget that she'd ever been called a bookworm, antisocial or awkward. Most of all, it would be a fresh start.

She still remembered that feeling: soaring happiness that filled her to the brim.

With a smile on her face, she flicked her wand. "Expecto Patronum."

A slender silver otter swam out.


Two years later, at the Ministry of Magic

Dementors were everywhere, filling the room with their paralyzing coldness. Mrs. Cattermole looked on the verge of fainting; Harry's stag bounded leagues, but it wasn't enough.

"Come on, Hermione!" he yelled.

She had tried every happy memory in her possession. Memories of her birthday parties, the little things Ron had done for her, how Mrs. Weasley had always looked after her, even her brief relationship with Krum. Nothing worked.

At the moment, screams swum into her head, thick as water, threatening to drown her. Everything bad she'd ever done or had been done to her, every single thing, even the memories at the back of her head, the hidden ones, came out.

Her grandfather, moaning in pain as he took his last breath.

Dumbledore, dead, lying on the grass in front of the Astronomy tower.

Ron's voice. "No wonder she's got no friends."

"Freak. Insufferable know-it all."

Was it worth fighting? Why was she, an innocent Muggle-born fighting?

Her brain latched on to the memory: the perfect one. Her reflection in the Mirror of Erised, surrounded by friends.

Because it's true: I chose to move on. This war is worth it. Our lives are worth it.

"Expecto Patronum!"

She smiled, relieved, as her otter joined the stag.