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Disclaimer: Not Mine.

Someone asked me about Hermione's place in Hufflepuff, so I thought I should address it. Personally, I don't think the house lines are that stark; people are extremely complicated beings. So Hermione- and I've put some thought into this- Hermione is extremely smart, yes. She has also shown herself to be loyal- whether to her ideals (S.P.E.W), or her friends. And all throughout the books, she works incredibly hard for her grades. Maybe it's just me, but it'd be very easy for someone who is able to consistently remember things easily, and understands concepts the first time to develop a very lazy personality. On the other hand, I have an amazingly brilliant friend who got bad grades all through elementary school. She pulled all her grades up to straight 'A's by working incredibly hard, reviewing constantly and stressing out over every assignment until she got it right. This seems to me to be so much more impressive and sounds much more like the Hermione I imagine. Hence the Hufflepuff trait. Maybe you disagree, but that's what Fanfictions are for.

I wanted to make this chapter longer, but Harry led me to a closing point that I just can't ruin. Blame him if you want to. I'm just typing here.

Chapter 7

No Matter What It Takes

It was lucky that Healing class and lunch followed History. The arrangement allowed the Gryffindor seventh years to wake up in the intervening period, so that they would be prepared to deal with the venomous, vicious, and belligerent plant life that Professor Sprout kept throwing at them.

Today, the diminutive woman had assigned the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff class the blue-leaved Merlin bush- a bitter, cantankerous shrub if there ever was one. The silver, gnarled branches secreted a highly poisonous sap, which, when treated and distilled, was used as a main ingredient in the potion which treated dragon-pox. Much as it thrilled Ron to contribute to the pox-ridden amongst the Wizarding World, he was rather considering eating the untreated sap at the present moment. Why- why did Sprout have to partner him with Granger?

All class time long, she had been doing nothing but criticizing his every move, which was supremely unhelpful; the plant was already reluctant to give up its sap, and kept jabbing at Ron's dragon-hide gloved fingers. A quick glance around the leafy greenhouse showed him that every other pair was further along than they were. What's more, Ron really didn't need the distraction of his partner's constant: "Hold it more firmly! No, no, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to hold the shears differently…Not like that!"Finally, the girl snatched the silver shears from Ron, groaning at his obvious incompetence.

"Here," She said, grabbing their bush's silvery branch, "I took notes on this last night. Look in my bag. It's the one with green ink." Rolling his eyes heavenward, Ron dropped down beside the table and began digging through Granger's crowded book bag. He had to pull out three sheaves of homework, two textbooks, and what looked like a small black diary before he finally found her diagram-ridden notes. He dropped them onto the table, careful to keep them out of reach of the grasping branches.

His tyrannical partner ran her finger down the pages, muttering all the way. "Feeding…sunlight…ha! Pruning."

"Congratulations," Ron muttered, annoyed.

"I was right," She said, smugly. "You were cutting it wrong. It says you're supposed to cut them diagonally." She grabbed the shears that she had dropped onto the desk, and began clipping in earnest, leaving Ron with nothing to do. He rolled his eyes yet again, and stared around the classroom. Now that he wasn't wrestling with a ferocious bush, he could better observe the struggles of his fellow students. He was perplexed to notice that Neville was staring his way. No… not at him…Following the round-faced boy's gaze, he realized that the newcomer was staring at Granger? What on earth? Why would he be staring at Hermione Granger? Ron shrugged. Well, he thought with a slight lift to his eyebrows, to each his own,.

Granger allowed Ron to do absolutely nothing for the rest of the hour. She pruned the leaves, drained the sap into the bottles that Sprout had handed out to them, and even labeled the jars herself. It wasn't that Ron was complaining- but Merlin, he was bored. It was a relief when the bell finally rang, sending the entire class into a frenzy of cleaning up and gathering book bags. Granger returned the Merlin Bush back to the front of the classroom, then returned to snatch up her books and homework. Without looking Ron's way once, she marched out of the greenhouse, for all the world as if Ron had been the one criticizing her for the last hour. Ron shook his head in exasperation and bent to grab his own bag.

It was then that he noticed the diary he had pulled out of Granger's bag. It was still lying on the table, where the Hufflepuff girl had forgotten it. Great. Groaning in annoyance he shoved the black- bound book back into his own bag and hurried to join the rest of the class as it made it's way back to the castle for Defense class.

……………………………………………..

Dinner was well underway by the time Ginny arrived, having just been let out of quidditch practice. The Great Hall was crowded and noisy, filled with the most incredible smell of steak-and-kidney pie and the chatter of hundreds of students. Ginny scanned the Gryffindor table, looking for a place to eat. She was pleased to see that a spot near that Harry kid was empty, and quickly made her way over. Time to kill two birds with one stone.

"So," she said, dropping decisively into the seat in front of Harry, "I'm getting tired of trying to come up with your whole story on my own." Harry, froze, a forkful of food halfway to his mouth.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, dropping the fork onto his plate and staring at her oddly.

Ginny began serving herself dinner as she explained with a smile, "Everyone keeps asking me about you and your friend."

"Okay," Harry said slowly, waiting for the red head to elaborate.

"Well," she said with a shrug, "It was getting annoying to keep telling them, 'I don't know', right? So- I hope you don't mind-I've been coming up with my own ideas. Don't worry," she added hastily, "None of them are realistic enough for anyone to really believe them, but its been getting old." Harry said nothing. "So I've decided to ask you about it instead." She took a couple of bites of pie, then said, "Hence, here I am, waiting for you to suddenly burst into fascinating explanation."

"That seems a little unfair," Harry responded after a few moments. "I don't know anything about you either."

"Yes," Ginny allowed, "but how many people have asked you about me today?"

"Still," Harry said, pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice, "It's uneven."

"Okay," Ginny said, "How about you ask a question, I'll answer, and then I ask you one?" When Harry still looked doubtful, she added, " Come on, you've been here for what? A week? I haven't bothered you at all. I think this interrogation is long overdue."

Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Alright then, I suppose."

"Good. You sound so excited." Ginny said dryly. "Granted, this was not your idea, but…" She made a dismissive gesture. "Alright. Down to business." Ginny folded her hands on the table in front of her. "First, I need to know your full name." She raised a warning finger as Harry opened his mouth to protest. "Don't question the nature of the questions."

"You do know that some would find this very annoying, right?" Harry said.

" I'm told its part of my unique charms." Ginny replied with a careless shrug. " I'm the youngest of seven children; being annoying doesn't frighten me."

"Can't say I've had that privilege." Ginny was still waiting for his answer. "Alright. Harry James Potter. You?"

"Ginevra Molly Weasley. No laughing."

"I didn't."

"I know, but people usually do. My turn again. Er…where did you go to school?"

"I was homeschooled. What position do you play on your team?" He asked, indicating Ginny's quidditch robes, which she had changed back into after her shower.

"Chaser. Did you join Hogwarts because you're Dumbldore's great grandson?" His incredulous look was all the answer she needed, but she pushed on. "Pomfrey's? Flitwick's ? Snape's?" The look on Harry's face was absolutely priceless; a real picture of bewildered disgust. "Well that's about seventy percent of the rumors out of the way." She smiled smugly. "Knew Romilda didn't have a clue."

"My turn again." Harry unconsciously drummed the table. "You have six siblings?"

"Yep: Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron." Harry frowned in confusion.

"That's four."

Ginny's smile fell, and she dropped her eye to her folded hands. "Yeah. My twin brothers died a few years ago."

"Oh I'm sorry." Harry said, sounding genuinely regretful.

"No it's fine," Ginny said quickly, still not looking at him. "You didn't know. They died in that Death Eater attack on Diagon Alley. Just before my first year. Mum was all torn up about it for along time and she still won't let us go out on our own, really." They sat in awkward silence for several agonizing moments before Ginny shook her head, trying to dispel the memories that always crept up at the mention of Fred and George.

"Okay, my turn," she said, her voice slightly forced. "What about your family?"

Harry seemed to hesitate, then said, "I grew up with my aunt, uncle, and cousin in Surrey, but I haven't been there months."

"Really?"Ginny's eyes widened. "Did you hear?" She asked carefully, remembering suddenly the article that she, Ron, and Colin had read the other day.

"What?"Harry asked sharply, obviously noticing the shade of nervousness in Ginny's tone.

"Surrey was attacked by Death Eaters. You didn't see the Prophet?"

"No," Harry said, feeling a dreadful surge of foreboding. "Was it bad?" Ginny nodded sadly.

"It was huge. They said that the city- Little Winging? Something like that- was completely decimated- no survivors to speak of. And they had werewolves too," she added with a shudder. The pictures in that article…

"Little Whinging?" Harry said numbly. Ginny's eyes widened in understanding, staring at the boy's white face.

"Oh Harry, I'm sorry." She reached across the table to grasp his hand, "I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm sorry." She repeated. Harry shook his head, pulling himself back to the present with what looked like a huge effort.

"It's okay. You didn't know," He said, echoing Ginny's words. "I-It's just a shock…I- I'm pretty sure the Dursleys moved from Little Whinging a long time ago."

"You don't know?" Ginny asked cautiously.

"I haven't heard from them for over a year." Harry said, though he was obviously still stunned by the news. They lapsed into another awkward silence. To Ginny, it looked like Harry was simply grasping at straws, so to speak, refusing to believe that his family was dead. She watched him fidget with his spoon, as she tried to think of something to say. He broke it first however, standing abruptly.

"Listen, I have some work to do for Professor McGonagall." He said, not meeting her eyes. "I need to…"

"Yeah alright," Ginny said, feeling guilt twist at her stomach. "I really am sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Harry said in a would-be-casual voice. "I just need to finish…I need to go." Ginny watched as the dark haired boy all but fled the hall, before pushing aside her plate and standing herself. She brushed past Ron as she left the hall, ignoring his concerned questions.

Harry was halfway to the library before he stopped running. He slid down the wall of the empty corridor, trying to calm himself. It was stupid to be so upset, he told himself angrily. This wasn't even his reality… why should he care so much about the Dursleys of this place? They had never met him- he'd never seen them. Still the all-too- familiar sensation of loss was pressing against his chest, despite his mind's insistence that even the Dursleys that he had known had never given a damn about him. They certainly would not have mourned him… and yet….

Ginny's news had only reawakened the loneliness that he had been trying desperately to fight all year long. Here he was, without any way home; without Ron or Hermione; unfamiliar to those he had always trusted most; with the memory of Fred's, Colin's, Lupin's and Tonk's bodies still fresh in his mind… and the death of the Dursleys- even if they had never met him, or ever cared for him- only accentuated his emotions. No, he didn't miss the Dursleys. But all the same, the news hurt.

And what's more- it was obvious to Harry that if Voldemort had the ability to decimate an entire town then the war in this reality was going far worse than even that of his own time. Voldemort may have controlled the Ministry, the Daily Prophet, and Hogwarts, but had never had the power to unleash such absolute destruction. From what he had overheard over the last week, it was becoming obvious to Harry that Voldemort was winning the war, despite all of Dumbledore's efforts to prevent such an occurrence. Students who did speak of current events did so in fearful, or horrified whispers, obviously scared about whom to trust, while others went out of their way to ignore whatever was going on. Neville had told Harry that the agitated atmosphere which permeated Hogwarts today was almost identical to that of his own previous year. It was unmistakable; Dumbledore was losing the war.

The realization propelled Harry to his feet, once again heading towards the library. He couldn't just sit around, doing nothing. No matter what it was- whatever it took- Harry needed to help win this war before he died. He knew with certainty that it was his only option; His instincts would never allow him to do otherwise. He had always been a fighter- his 'Saving People Thing', he thought with a sad laugh.

Was it only a week ago that he had witnessed the very memory that confirmed that he was to give up his life for this war? Merely seven days that stood between now and that death sentence? But Dumbledore, his parents, even Sirius, had raised him to believe that there were things worth dying for. And Harry would accept the inevitable. No matter what it took.

Okay, warning: I may not be able to update for a long time- and yes, I realize that this does not change the routine all that much. But seriously, I have a major holiday approaching, which lasts about two weeks- during which I will not be able to write- and needs about two weeks worth of preparation. They call it a vacation- but it really isn't. So, I am going to make an effort to write chapter eight beforehand, but don't hold your breath.