- Chapter 2 -
Back To The Memories
Hermione stood unmoving just inside the gates to Hogwarts. She stared forlornly around at the grounds. She bowed her head, squeezed her eyes shut, and took a few deep shuddering breaths. Hogwarts was the home of many fond memories for Hermione, after all, she'd spent much of her life there, six and a half years, in fact.
She raised her head, and forced herself to look at the grounds. A tree by the lake that she and the boys had studied under, or at least she had studied whilst they had pretended. The Whomping Willow, and all the chaos from their third year reappeared in Hermione's mind. There was the Black Lake, which she had levitated the boys into every summer, excepting their last. To her left she could see what she had once referred to as 'Hagrid's Hut'. There was the Quidditch pitch in the distance, and nearly seven years of Quidditch matches brought a smile to her face. Hermione chuckled to herself as she reminisced on the real-rock rock cakes, and the tea-with-added-tar. These were some of the memories she'd come back to Hogwarts for.
And then there were the reasons she'd only lasted six and a half years at the school. The memories of Hogwarts which were the basis of most of her nightmares. There was that same tree by the lake, but with a noose hung from it. The unseeing eyes of Zacharias Smith as he swung by his neck. There was the Whomping Willow, splattered with the brains of the Patil twins, Padma and Parvati. There was the Black Lake, the water's surface barely visible for the bodies that swarmed it; Hogwarts students, Order members and Death Eaters all left for the squid. Hagrid's hut in flames, the horrifying smell of burning flesh, and the chilling screams of the fighters trapped within. And then there was the Quidditch pitch… But no, she wasn't ready to face those memories just yet.
Hermione took another deep breath, and began her long walk to the front entrance of Hogwarts. It was hard for her to believe that it had only been two days since she'd left the Aurory for good (although Dawlish had promised her a job in perpetuity, and hired her as a dark artefact consultant). It felt like the end of an era for Hermione; after more than ten years of fighting for survival, she could finally relax.
Before she knew it, Hermione was facing the large oaken doors that led into the school. Most people would have to be escorted past the closed doors by one of a select group of staff… or a founder. Technically, all of the survivors of the Final Battle were given founder status when they had repaired the school. It had taken a lot from them magically, most were laid up in bed for several days after the original ritual had commenced. Thanks to this, the castle recognised all of them, and would always recognise their descendants too.
Hermione placed the palm of her hand on the left hand door, which obligingly swung open for her. A murmured incantation and it closed behind her. Hermione raised her head, to look up at the ceiling of the Entrance Hall. When she had been a school girl, she had loved the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, but when they had repaired the school, images had appeared in the Entrance Hall. Where before the four founders had been displayed, those who fought for Hogwarts were pictured. Above her she could see all of the faces of the men, women and children who had fought, those still living, and those now lost.
There was Harry, at the head of the crowd, flanked by Ron, and by her. Behind Ron stood Luna, behind Hermione was Ginny. There was Pansy Parkinson, the only Slytherin bar Snape to fight for their side. In the mural she and her head of house smiled at each other. Dumbledore had a hand on Harry's shoulder. Hermione's eyes searched out other familiar faces. Padma and Parvati, Lavender, Ernie Macmillan, Terry Boot, Hagrid, the Creevey brothers, the entire Weasley clan… And there were others too, that hadn't died in the Final Battle, but had done the Light great services, or dealt the Dark harsh blows. James and Lily Potter, who stood next to Snape, and Sirius reconciled with his brother, Regulus.
"It changes, you know?" Hermione was ducked down on the floor with her wand pointed at the owner of the voice before she had even registered who she was looking at.
"Neville!" Hermione sighed in relief, and ran towards her friend. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"
"Don't worry about it." Neville put his strong arms out, and as Hermione reached him he spun her in circles until she cried at him to stop. "It'll be good to have you here, Hermione." He smiled down at her beatifically.
"It's good to be here too, I think." She stepped back away from him, and looked him up and down. "Why Neville, I do think you've been holding back on us! Look at those muscles! Why on earth would you hide them when you come to see us?" Neville tilted his head, and looked down at her sadly as her smile faltered.
"I know. It's hard. I was a wreck for the whole summer when I first came back." Once more he opened his arms to her, but this time she collapsed into them, burying her face into his chest for a few minutes. When she resurfaced Neville gave her another soft smile. "I meant it when I said it changes, you know?" He gestured to the ceiling. "Never when you look at it, but it changes. Doesn't it look different from all of the ceremonies? I figured it out, they're in rank order then, but most of the time they're not. I like to think they move towards their friends, or their families."
Hermione raised her eyes again and smiled up at her lost friends. When she lowered her face her eyes had hardened once more.
"Time to cope." She whispered to Neville, before a sunny smile appeared on her lips. "Now, you fancy walking me to Minerva's office?" Neville deftly tucked her arm into his, and led her on the familiar route through the castle.
"You know, Hermione, you don't know how glad I really am to have you here…" Hermione began to interrupt, but was stopped by Neville's finger on her lips, and a cheeky grin. "… well, at least not until you're forced to endure Minerva's 'staff fun'. Apparently, while she was a teacher life was unbearably boring, so now we have lots of 'bonding fun'. Usually me and Filius try to get as drunk as possible, you can join in with us. Or perhaps you can figure out a way to get out of it."
"What sort of fun?" Hermione asked curiously, hoping to Merlin it was alcohol.
"Well, last year Minerva rather liked betting." Neville mused. "And the year before she fancied Muggle party games. I think this year is likely to be magical in nature, at least. You should have seen Filius trying Muggle chess, he couldn't figure out how to make the pieces move, he was that drunk!" Hermione giggled into her hand, desperately trying to wipe the smirk from her face as they reached the gargoyle.
"Severus Tobias Snape." Neville said clearly, turning back apologetically to Hermione. "She sets the passwords to people who fought with us. You know, sometimes I don't think they're any more healed than we are." Hermione smiled then, a soft, sad smile.
"I don't think so either. Not even from the first war, that I can tell." She confided. "But now's not the time to bring it up, Neville. Now's the time to smile and lie."
"I'll talk to you later then, Hermione." Neville hugged her gently again. "If I'm not in my rooms, I'll be in the greenhouses."
"You come and find mine, instead!" Hermione teased, giggling slightly. And with Hermione's terrible flirtation came her 'happy face' plastered back on again, and she stepped onto the revolving stairs.
"Minerva!" She cried with false glee as she entered the office. "It's been too long! How have you been?"
"Really, Hermione, it's only been three weeks," the elder woman chided, a small smile gracing her face. "I, as you can see, am in perfect health. And you, my dear?"
"I'm just glad to be back here, it feels like coming home, in a way." Hermione settled herself into a chair across from the Headmistress, on the other side of her desk. "And how is our wonderful castle?"
"The castle is well, there have been no collapses, no breakages. I think, however, it has been feeling a little lonesome without the children. It seems very happy today though, no doubt as you are here." McGonagall smiled. "And whilst we're on the subject of the castle, I should show you to your rooms. They're midway between your classroom and Gryffindor Tower, I thought you'd want to be near to your cubs, seeing as you'll be taking them over from Neville." The elderly woman stood, and gestured for Hermione to follow as they headed towards Gryffindor Tower, still babbling on. "Bless his heart, he did try, but what with all his extra duties it was such a strain on the poor boy."
"Extra duties?" Hermione asked confusedly. "But didn't Professor Sprout manage the greenhouses, and Hufflepuff?"
"Yes, one being the difference in students; Hufflepuff students tend to be the least troublesome. For the first few weeks they get terribly upset about missing their families, but then they're usually right as rain for the rest of the year. You have several prominent Gryffindor pranksters, I must inform you."
"Oh dear," Hermione frowned slightly. "Just tell me I won't have to deal with the reincarnation of Fred and George, please?" She implored her mentor, jokingly.
"Oh, no, dear. You have two groups that are constantly trying to outdo each other. But going back to Neville's duties, he is also trying to restore the forest, along with some help from Nestor Scamander, the new Care of Magical Creatures Professor, I don't think you've met him yet. There are still some areas of the forest that need a lot of re-growth, and many of the creatures avoid other parts, due to the dark magic used there." The headmistress paused, dabbing gently at her eyes with a conjured handkerchief. "Perhaps one day Hogwarts will be as it once was. One day."
"No, Minerva," Hermione interjected. "Hogwarts will never be the same, nor should we wish that it was. All around us, across the castle and grounds, men and women and children died to save this place, and their sacrifices are what will make Hogwarts better than it ever was. We will make sure of that, Minerva, or we will die trying, and pass on the baton."
"What a beautiful sentiment, Hermione." Minerva smiled gently, before brusquely walking up to a portrait of an aged witch, who raised her chin at the sight of Hermione.
"So, you are to be the new Defence teacher? I should hope you will be up to the challenge, they still haven't been able to shake that damn curse, but I'm sure you can do it! We women are stronger than those bastard men give us credit for!" The woman looked as if she were to continue, but Minerva spoke first.
"That will be quite enough, Artemisia," she began, ignoring Hermione's ill concealed gasp. "This is Hermione Granger, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor,and one of the newer school founders. I'm sure that you two will get along."
"You're Artemisia Lufkin!" Hermione looked on at the painting in reverence. "I'm honoured to make your acquaintance, you were one of my idols as a young witch. I'd love to hear all about your election campaign, at some point; I've always been interested in how you overcame the sexist views at that time." The woman in the portrait's chin raised even higher, but Artemisia smiled at Hermione.
"That sounds like an excellent plan, Professor, although I'm sure our Headmistress could also enlighten you, as she was the last person to ask about my time as Minister. For now, however, you must set a password, and I would advise you to set wards too; it wouldn't do for anybody to be able to enter without your permission, and such forth."
"What a wonderful suggestion, Artemisia," Minerva said, smile now firmly ensconced on her face. "I was just about to suggest the same thing. Now, Hermione, you need a good password. Any ideas?"
"Hmm, nothing too obvious I suppose…" Hermione pondered for a few moments, before an idea came to mind. "Or how about something veryobvious? My password will be Alohomora." Minerva pursed her lips, but the portrait chuckled heartily.
"Oh brilliant, dear. Are you sure you're a Gryffindor? That's terribly Slytherin thinking. Completely un-guessable." She was still chuckling as she opened up to let Hermione and Minerva enter.
"Oooh!" Hermione cooed appreciatively at her rooms. "I had this horrible feeling they'd be red and gold!" Minerva smiled, and chuckled slightly.
"I thought you might appreciate a change in the décor, I spent several years surrounded by our House colours, before I managed to take off all of Albus' spells preventing transfigurations." She shook her head ruefully. "Yours have no such enchantments, I wasn't sure which colours or styles you would prefer, so I've given you a choice. Currently, it's been decorated in the same style that you decked out your Head Girl's room in, as best as the elves and I could remember it."
"It's amazing, Minerva!" Hermione sprang forwards to stroke one of the soft, tasselled cushions on the sofa. "Thank you!"
"It's nothing, Hermione. If I had my way, none of you young ones would have ever left here." Hermione froze, eyes flicking upwards at the Headmistress. For a moment the young Professor thought that her mentor was about to cry, but the elder woman merely took a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I am but an old woman who wishes to see her friends again. Don't mind my sentimentality. I will see you in the Great Hall for dinner this evening." With that, the headmistress swept out of the room, the swirling of her cloak rivalling that of the late Severus Snape.
The young woman left in the room sighed to herself, before she pulled several trunks out of her pockets and began to systematically enlarge each of them.
