Chapter 1
She sighed as she looked over the parchment in her hands. She wasn't entirely sure why she had bothered to write it. She had after all just watched the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor get carried away by a herd if angry centaurs without much hope of ever returning to Hogwarts. Very much doubting that the idiotic woman would ever return unscathed, and not feeling as guilty about it as she probably should have been, she decided to put the nearly finished essay back into her bag.
She had far more important things to worry about than that loathsome woman. The same day that Umbridge had finally been driven away from the school, Hermione, along with Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville, had gone to the Department of Mysteries to save Sirius. She should have known it was all a ruse made to lure Harry into the Hall of Prophecies. Of course, she had suspected it, but even she knew that there would be no stopping Harry from trying to save his godfather while he thought the man was in danger. Once they had gotten there and realized that Sirius wasn't on the brink of death, the Death Eaters had appeared and that horrid fight had ensued. She knew that awful image of Neville trying to fight off Bellatrix on his own would haunt her forever. His face contorted in fury and determination as he valiantly dueled the woman who had tortured his parents into insanity. Not to mention the sight of the killing curse leaving the witch's wand and hitting her friend in the chest. Just the thought of it brought tears to her eyes, and she hastily wiped them away. She knew it wasn't wise to dwell on these things. There was no doubt in her mind that a war was starting; she was bound to see more deaths within the next few years. But regardless of what she told herself, she couldn't help the dull ache from forming in her chest as she thought of how the life had been sucked from an innocent boy's eyes. Admittedly, Neville hadn't been the bravest Gryffindor for the first few years he had known him, but after last week's events, cowardly was the last word she would use to describe Neville Longbottom.
The images flashed by her faster than ever before, and she was forced to watch on in pain and horror with absolutely no hope of stopping them. Neville lying in a broken heap on the cool floor near the veiled archway. Luna kneeling beside him and clutching him to her, for once that dreamy look completely gone from her face. And Harry. Try as she might, she couldn't banish the sight of him staring unblinkingly with wide, horrified eyes at the Veil through which Sirius had fallen through, from her mind.
He blamed himself for their deaths. Hermione had to admit that while she hated to see Harry suffer in such a way, she couldn't keep herself from believing it was his fault. Although one could also argue that it had been her fault as well for not trying harder to convince Harry to think about what he was doing. It was because of this horrible guilt that both Harry and Hermione had isolated themselves from their friends. Harry was always in bed, never speaking unless asked a direct question. And even then, his replies were monosyllabic. She wanted to help, but knew when she was not wanted. Only time could heal that horrible hole that had been burned through his heart at losing the closest thing he had ever had to a family.
She was sitting at an empty table in one of the more secluded areas of the library as she had been doing for the main part of her week. Most people didn't bother sitting with the old books; it wasn't as though they actually used them for reference, or Merlin forbid, a bit of light reading. Not to mention that they were dusty and felt as though they would fall apart the moment someone touched them. And while Hermione had never been on the receiving end of Madam Pince's wrath after one of her precious books had been destroyed, she had seen other students be subjected to the yelling, screaming, and often times hexes after they returned a book to the library in less than perfect condition. Of course, the librarian had been far more subdued for the past year since Dolores Umbridge was in the school, but nevertheless, nobody wanted to get on her bad side. It was because of this that Hermione never had to worry about anyone taking out the books she wanted, or even sitting near her while she did her homework. It was nice in a way, knowing that no matter what was happening in her life, she would always have somewhere to go.
While being the brightest witch of her age did have quite a few advantages, sometimes the benefits were not quite worth it all. She had finished all her homework and had nothing to take her mind off last week's events. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the haunted and empty look in Neville's eyes which she hoped she would never have to see in anyone else's for as long as she lived. The death of her friend and Harry's godfather was the worst of wakeup calls. Something needed to be done about this entire situation, and while Hermione wished with all her heart to be able to do something about it, she couldn't for the life of her think of a way to contribute in the downfall of the horrible man who had started this all.
Knowing she was getting nowhere with her line of thought, she decided it would be best to bring Luna some food from the kitchens. The poor girl had hardly been eating or even moving since she had lost Neville. Every time Hermione visited her friend, that twinge of guilt she felt for not being able to prevent Neville's death began to increase. Within mere minutes of being around Luna, she was always flooded by an incredible amount of guilt which washed over her and ripped her apart relentlessly.
Hermione had at one point thought she understood people; that she was observant. But how could she not have noticed how much Luna had cared for Neville? Luna's thoughts had always been somewhat difficult to decipher, what with her always having the same dreamy expression on her face. Though now that she thought about it, she remembered seeing Luna's gaze rest on Neville longer than it did on others. She recalled how that faraway look often left Luna's eyes, and was replaced by this softness and adoration whenever she looked at the boy. How obvious the signs had been, but she had been oblivious to them all.
She picked up her bag and began walking toward the kitchens, the entire time wondering if Neville had ever known how much Luna had loved him.
News of what happened at the Ministry had spread quickly. She knew that even if the Daily Prophet hadn't made it a front-page story, the whole of Hogwarts would know about the events that had transpired that day. The more insensitive students had gone out of their way to question them all unrelentlessly about what it had been like to fight Death Eaters, or "were they afraid that they were going to get killed"? Evidently, even Malfoy had had enough of the loud, idiotic questioning directed at Hermione which students had even taken to doing during classes, and irritably yelled at the obnoxious Lavender Brown to kindly "sod off and close her bloody mouth before she ended up cursed into a thousand pieces". It seemed to have the desired effect on the stupid bint, because she quickly turned around and seemed to pay much closer attention to Professor Binns' lecture than she had prior to Malfoy's outburst. The ghost hadn't even faltered in his endless speech, and Draco Malfoy didn't look in Hermione's direction for the rest of the class.
Unfortunately for her, when the class was over, people began asking questions again. Granted, they did take better care to not bother others as well by keeping their voices down whenever someone walked by, but either way, it bothered her. Not only did it unleash an unheard of fury from within her at their sheer stupidity, but it also caused the guilt to creep up on her again. It was because of this that she had taken to only leaving the privacy the library offered when she was sure there wouldn't be quite so many students wandering the halls.
By the time she had finally made her way to Ravenclaw Tower, the common room was empty save for a few fourth year girls working feverishly to finish their homework, and seemingly far too preoccupied with their work to pay her any attention. The Ravenclaws had long since stopped staring every time she walked into the common room. Some tried to ask her about Neville and the Death Eaters at first, but quickly learned that any questions about either would be completely ignored, and the endless rounds of questioning stopped.
She made her way across the common room and walked up a set of stairs. She sighed softly as she came across an elegantly carved wooden door marked with a brass plaque engraved with Fourth Year Girls written in loopy handwriting. Readying herself for whatever mood she would find Luna in, she knocked out of mere politeness and opened the door. She had learned by now that knocking made no difference as Luna wasn't going to get out of bed to open the door for her, but somehow it felt wrong not showing some respect for her friend's privacy, even when said friend didn't seem to notice much of what was going on around her.
For the first few days, Luna hadn't been able to bring herself to move from her bed at all, even to use the bathroom. It had taken Hermione nearly half an hour of telling her to take a shower before she showed any signs of having heard her, and even then, she had only spent fifteen minutes on getting herself clean as opposed to the hour she usually took. Seeing her normally happy and carefree friend with so much sorrow written on her face only made Hermione feel worse about the entire situation they had been forced into. They were still so young. But what had she expected? As if Voldemort would wait until they were done with their education to go about slaughtering anyone who fought against him. She had been so foolish and naive. At least now she knew better than to expect even a trace of kindness from the enemy.
Tomorrow was the day of Neville's funeral. Sirius' had been a few days earlier, and had to be kept incredibly private since people thought he had been an escaped convict. Technically, she supposed, he was. Only he had been wrongfully convicted. Could anyone truly blame him for wanting to leave that horrendous place? Where he not only had to be confined to a small cell like a neglected animal, but also had the happiness sucked out of him as if he was entirely worthless? No, it was not possible for Hermione to blame Sirius for escaping that Hell hole of a prison.
Hermione walked into the dorm and found Luna in the same position she had left her in that morning. There was a plate of untouched food on the bedside table, which unsettled her. While Luna hadn't been particularly responsive since Neville's death, she seemed to have been slowly getting better. Hermione hoped desperately that Luna wasn't about to get worse, and that her sudden loss of appetite was attributed to Neville's funeral taking place in less than a day.
She sighed sadly to herself as she sat down on the edge of Luna's bed. The girl opened her eyes and looked in Hermione's direction. It always managed to unnerve her whenever Luna did this; her friend wasn't actually looking at her, but seemed to be looking straight through her instead. Hermione gently brushed a strand of her friend's hair away from her face. Noticing the dried tears upon it made her heart clench, and she fought to keep her own tears at bay. Silently, she conjured up a small towel and a bowl of warm water. Carefully wetting the towel and muttering a quick "Evanesco" to vanish the bowl, she proceeded to wipe her friend's face clean. A small whimper escaped Luna's mouth, and she watched as the poor girl lost all ability to reign in her emotions. Hesitantly, Hermione put her arms around the girl, and within moments, Luna's chest was heaving as she sobbed into her embrace. "Shh," she whispered into Luna's hair, her voice muffled so much that she doubted the girl would be able to hear her, "It'll be alright. It'll be alright Luna." She wasn't sure why she said those words to the hysterical girl in her arms. She knew full-well that it was anything but alright. Perhaps she needed to let herself know that it wasn't the end of the world, regardless of how it might feel that way at the moment. Or maybe she said it because even a lie was better than the painful truth. How she wished she knew.
Several minutes had passed before the Ravenclaw's sobs began to slowly diminish. She was still holding onto Hermione with a strength the other girl hadn't expected from her in the least. She didn't move from her position, with her head on Hermione's shoulder and her hair partially covering her friend's face, when she started to speak.
"Hermione," she began, her voice quiet and slightly raspy from her crying, "Why is it that good people are always the ones who end up dead? Why isn't it the evil ones instead?"
Hermione felt an uncomfortable pang in her chest at hearing Luna's question. Of course, she knew the answer. Good people were better than the ones on the dark side. But while fighting for the light was, in her opinion, the right thing to do, it did have a few disadvantages. You were expected to use light magic and focus on defensive spells rather than offensive spells. The Death Eaters, however, were ruthless. They never thought about the consequences of using Dark magic, unless it meant that they were killing an enemy. In all honesty, the light side didn't have much of a chance at winning this war if their tactics remained the same. Sometimes, the only way to fight fire was with fire.
Knowing she couldn't subject Luna to the harsh reality of it all, especially now while she was still mourning the loss of Neville, she instead replied differently. "I don't know Luna." She started, her voice barely more than a whisper, "Sometimes it's the best people in the world who have to die. It's not fair, but it happens. All we need to make sure of though, is that he didn't die in vain." She refrained from actually saying his name for fear that it would cause her to break down again.
By now, her eyes were beginning to moisten, and she fought to keep herself from crying in front of her friend. It wouldn't do her any good to cry about Neville right after Luna had finally stopped crying herself.
She was thankful for the fact that her face was obscured by Luna's hair so the girl hadn't seen her on the verge of tears. She inwardly cursed herself for being foolish enough to nearly lose control of her emotions while being around Luna. She knew how emotionally unstable the girl was; if it had been Hermione's fault that her friend's recovery was ruined by the Gryffindor's own idiocy, she would have gone insane with guilt. How many lives was it possible for her to destroy?
Suddenly, Luna sat up straight and looked Hermione in the eye with a strange clarity that had been absent from the girl's face since Neville died. Luna's abrupt change in position brought the dark haired girl out of her reverie, and she stared back at her friend, unsure of what the other girl was thinking. A few moments passed while the two girls sat on the bed looking at each other, and Hermione was beginning to grow uneasy. Had her friend gone into a catatonic state because of what Hermione had said? It wouldn't be the first time that Luna would have gone into such a condition. The girl hadn't spoken for days after Neville had been killed.
Hermione was truly beginning to worry about her friend when Luna did the last thing she had expected her to do. She smiled. Granted, it was a small, fleeting smile. But it was a smile nonetheless. To say that Hermione was shocked would have been the understatement of the century. She, however, did not have much time to dwell on the reasons for this sudden change in her friend's behaviour because at that moment, Luna engulfed her in a hug and her silvery eyes seemed to sparkle with the joy of knowing something the other girl didn't.
"We can do it you know," Luna said, with an almost melodic cadence to her voice, much like she used to speak. "Make sure he didn't die in vain I mean. We can't sit around being useless to the entire cause. Especially not after what happened to N-Neville."
Hermione was at a loss for words. She could not believe how suddenly her friend's demeanor seemed to change. "Hope can do that, I suppose," she thought.
She knew something had to be done anyway, as much as she yearned for the entire ordeal to be over. Unfortunately, until now, nobody else had come to that realization.
With a small smile gracing her lips, she grasped Luna's hand in hers and looked her in the eye. Once she was certain of the girl's lucidity and was sure that her blonde-haired friend completely comprehended what she had just suggested, Hermione squeezed Luna's hand and looked at her with pride.
"You're right, we can do something about this," she told the younger girl, her eyes glinting with determination. "And we will. We'll make sure V-Voldemort pays dearly for what he's done.
"We'll get rid of him, even if it is the last thing we'll ever do. That monster will be dealt a fate far worse than death at our hands. And he will regret every life taken, every last bit of innocence lost, and every derogatory slur that passed through his filthy lips. We'll do it Luna, we will prevent him from ever hurting anyone again. I swear to you, we will."