~Chapter 11: Worse than death~

"We've got to think." Mr. Weasley said, pacing. Hogwarts had been closed for the time being. The only people that were here were the staff and the Weasley family. The students had been sent home. Even some of the teachers had gone on holiday. Hogwarts couldn't be run. More than half of the teachers were gone, the students were scared out of their minds, no one could focus on classwork at all, and Professor McGonagall was in the St. Mungo's, getting treatment. Umbridge had wounded her extremely. Even if she was a strong witch, her body was old. She was frail now, but she was getting better with every day.

The Weasleys were in the Gryffindor common room. Ginny and Harry sat in the loveseat, holding hands, looking worried, Mrs. Weasley was sitting on a comfortable chair, watching her husband pace as she knitted to keep herself calm. Percy sat in the corner of the room, looking annoyed, George was sitting with Charlie on one of the couches, deep in thought, Fleur was sitting with Bill, who now had a black patch of skin on his cheek from the jinx he got in the face during the battle. She cuddled into him, watching Mr. Weasley also. Ron was sitting by himself, closer to his dad than normal. Ron was thinking as well.

"Who do we know that has been in Azkaban?" Mr. Weasley thought out loud. Ron thought hard for a moment.

"…We have our pick of Death Eaters...?" Charlie joked quietly. Ron shot him a glare.

"Shut it." he snarled, then started thinking again. He'd been in a nasty mood since Hermione was captured. He hadn't talked to anyone about it yet, but Ginny was determined to get something out of him.

"Ron, you don't need to talk to your brother like that." Mrs. Weasley said sharply. Ron didn't even back off, like he normally did. Ginny quickly dove into the conversation so her mum didn't notice.

"Well, what about Lucius Malfoy? He's been in Azkaban." Ginny said.

"Not bloody likely." George muttered.

"He wouldn't want to talk to us. We're the enemy. Besides, I'm sure they're hiding somewhere." Harry said.

"Like cockroaches." George muttered.

"Well then, who? Does anyone else have any ideas?" Bill asked.

"I think Ginny's right. We should talk to the Malfoys. Or at least Lucius. He might know something." Charlie suggested. Ron growled, snapping his head in Charlie's direction.

"I'm not going to talk to that viper of a man." Ron said fiercely. Ginny glared at him.

"I thought you'd do anything to get Hermione back, Ron." She said snidely. Ron turned on her.

"Bloody hell, Ginny, shut your trap!" Ron hollered. "I'm doing my best-!"

"And it'll never be enough!" Percy shouted over him. The room went quiet. Percy got up and went over to them, looking angry and annoyed with Ron. "Why don't you just give up now? Your girlfriend is as good as dead anyways. No one has ever and will ever sneak into Azkaban, so stop thinking you will!" Percy exclaimed.

"Percy! Stop that!" Mrs. Weasley snapped from her seat, looking fiery. Percy put his hands up, making a "what'd I do?" face.

"What?! It's true! You are all kidding yourselves if you believe that you can get into Azkaban uncovered! It's crawling with Dementors!" Percy said as though it wasn't obvious.

"Yeah, like we didn't already know that, you idiot!" Ron yelled. Percy exhaled.

"Ron, don't you get it?! Hermione is gone! Gone and not coming back! Why can't we all just move on with our lives?!" Percy asked incredulously.

"She's not gone! She's not! Just shut up! We have to figure something out!" Ron said, glaring at his brother. Percy shook his head.

"When you see her name on the Mudblood death list, then you'll understand!" Percy shouted.

"Percy!" Ginny exclaimed, her eyes wide. "Stop it!"

"No, I won't! Our family is already disgraced enough! We're blood traitors because we hang around Mudbloods and what for? To win their approval? To befriend them? Why? They're no different than Muggles!" said Percy. They all stared at him in shock.

"Listen to yourself, Perce. You sound like the Minister." Charlie said, sounding almost ashamed. Percy looked at them.

"Well, I believe the Minister may have a point. I mean, they're basically Muggles!" Percy spit out

"And what's wrong with Muggles?" Mr. Weasley piped up, crossing his arms. Percy looked at him, sputtering, trying to find words.

"EVERYTHING! They're normal, dad! They're not like us!" Percy exploded.

"So, we aren't normal? What are we, Percy? Are we freaks?" George asked, getting up.

"NO! We're special. We're different." Percy told them.

"I'm not special or different. And Hermione is not normal." Ron said. "If you say that, then you're bloody bonkers."

"Ron! I don't care how abnormal you think she is! She's not a witch." Percy said firmly. Harry got up, his fists clenched.

"She is a witch! She's the best witch of our year and she's the best one I've ever met!"

"Boys-," Mrs. Weasley started, but Percy just kept talking.

"That's pathetic! You're all thick! Hermione isn't a witch! She's a Mudblood and she deserved what she got!" Percy hollered. Ron lurched forward and grabbed Percy, pushing him up against the wall and punching him right across the face. Fleur screamed as Harry and Ginny grabbed at Ron and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley yelled for them to stop fighting.

"DON'T YOU DARE CALL HER A MUDBLOOD! DON'T YOU DARE!" Ron bellowed at the top of his lungs as Ginny and Harry managed to get him off Percy, who was already sporting a particularly nasty looking black eye. Percy jumped to grab Ron, but Bill and Charlie grabbed him and pulled him back as well.

"I'LL CALL HER WHATEVER I PLEASE! SHE'S DESTROYING OUR FAMILY!" Percy yelled back as he struggled to get to Ron and Ron fought to get free of Harry and Ginny.

"NO, PERCY! YOU'RE DESTROYING IT! YOU'RE ACTING LIKE YOU HATE BEING PART OF HIS FAMILY!" Ron shouted back, his eyes flaming.

"WELL, MAYBE I DON'T WANT TO BE PART OF THIS FAMILY ANYMORE!" Percy growled. Bill and Charlie's hands dropped immediately, both shocked at their brother's words. Even Ron stopped fighting as Harry and Ginny froze, looking at Percy in disbelief.

"Percy dear, don't be ridiculous-!" said Mrs. Weasley, coming forward to hug him. Percy shrugged her off with a nasty look on his face.

"No, mother. I'm not going to do this anymore. I'm going back to the Ministry." Mrs. Weasley looked at her son with big shocked eyes. Mr. Weasley stepped forward.

"Son, you can't do this to us. Not again. What the Ministry is doing…it's wrong. Don't you understand that? You'll break your mother's heart if you leave again and frankly, you'll be breaking mine too." Mr. Weasley told him, looking at him with sad eyes. Percy looked at his dad and pulled his coat on, summoning his bags from upstairs with his wand. He picked up his bags and straightened his collar.

"…Consider them broken." He said flatly. Mr. Weasley looked like he'd been slapped across the face. "I can't be a part of this family if it's going to continue to be the embarrassment that it already is. I consider myself disowned. You all should too..." He looked at everyone once before he turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Mrs. Weasley watched him leave and she started crying silently. Mr. Weasley stood there for a moment, staring at the door before he went over and put his arms around his wife, letting her cry into his shoulder, his eyes flaring with sadness. Ginny went over and rubbed her mum's shoulder soothingly as she cried. George gritted his teeth, clenching his fists.

"Don't worry about him, mum. He doesn't care about you so you shouldn't care about him." George told her.

"George!" Ginny exclaimed as her mother sobbed harder into her husband's shoulder. George took one look at his mother and just left, slamming the door behind him. Bill and Fleur watched him leave as well.

"…We…We should get back to Shell Cottage. We have to pay rent." Bill said quietly, getting up with Fleur, holding her hand. "We'll be in touch." He said quietly, looking Charlie in the face, clapping Ron on his shoulder, kissing Ginny's cheek and leaving with Fleur. Charlie sighed.
"…So, that's it then? We're just going to give up on this all together?" Ron asked, looking at how defeated everyone was. No one answered him. "…Fine. I'll keep researching on my own. I'll be down in the library." Ron mumbled, going out too and shutting the door. He traveled down to the library and looked at how empty it was. He took a breath and set off, looking for anything that might help him find Hermione and bring her back to him safe and sound.

Hermione felt herself stir out of sleep. She opened her eyes and saw the ceiling of her cell. Hermione felt memories coming back to her: the trial, Sparkle, Rita Skeeter, the Minister. She also remembered Umbridge and the compromise that she made with Adolf. When Hermione remembered Adolf, she remembered his pictures…his promise. She felt her hand flicker towards her pant pocket and felt the folded pictures there. Hermione felt her eyes sting, her stomach dropping again. But, her eyes were dry and sore and no more tears would come. That was when Hermione heard someone in the room with her. Hermione listened closely, still staring at the ceiling, and heard what sounded like a spoon against china. Someone was having tea. Hermione heard her stomach growl. When she was sure she could, Hermione slowly sat up, her head spinning wildly. She saw pink. Everywhere. The walls were pink. She also heard quiet meowing sounds and she saw Umbridge's cat plates on the walls. Hermione blinked and looked over to see, through the cell bars, Umbridge sitting at her desk, sipping from a pink teacup, staring at the wall in front of her. Hermione felt that strong hatred inside her, but she was too tired to do anything. When Umbridge set her tea down, she noticed Hermione was sitting up, quite awake, and she smiled sweetly at her.

"Oh good, you're awake." She said in her high girlish voice. Hermione just stared at her through her red puffy eyes. Umbridge got up, holding her wand and went over to her cage, smiling down at Hermione, who kept staring at her. Umbridge swooshed her wand and the cell door unlocked and slid out of the way. Hermione watched it and then looked up at Umbridge. "Come along dear. Get up. We have some lines for you to write." Umbridge said. Hermione pieced that together and got up. She looked at the door and thought of running, but then she remembered what happened to her parents and how the Minister would do that to Ron and his family if she didn't cooperate. Hermione looked at the tiny desk in front of Umbridge's with a long piece of parchment and bright red quill. She slowly got out of the cell and Umbridge got her to sit down at the desk. Hermione looked at Umbridge as she held out the red quill to her. Hermione swallowed and took the quill with her shaking hand. Umbridge sat down in the comfortable-looking chair at her desk and sighed, watching Hermione.

"I'm so excited! You have the amazing opportunity of being the first person to try out the new quills!" Umbridge said in a happy voice. Hermione watched her silently, clenching her jaw. Umbridge grinned at her. "My dear, I would like you to write lines, just like we did a couple years ago? Do you remember?" Umbridge asked her sweetly. Hermione forced herself not to raise her eyebrow. Clenching her teeth, sh nodded, looking down and biting her tongue. Umbridge smiled toadishly at her. "Okay. I would like you to write… "I am not a witch"." Umbridge said to her. A flare of anger built up inside Hermione's chest. She opened her mouth to speak, but Umbridge raised her chubby hand at her. "Remember, Miss Granger, you have to be a good girl and do exactly what I say." She chided. Hermione ground her teeth and looked down at the blank piece of parchment. She set her quill down. I am not a witch. She wrote at the very top of her page. The back of her left hand started to tingle a little as she moved down and wrote it again. I am not a witch. Then, she felt a sharp searing pain and she gasped. She looked over and saw letters being carved into her skin, very slowly. I…am…not…a…witch. She watched it appear on her pale skin as the pain flared. She swallowed and turned back to her page. I am not a witch. I am not a witch. I am not a witch. Every time she would write it, she felt the cuts on her hand get even deeper and soon, blood trickled down her hand, making a tiny pool appear on the desk. 'New quills'. Hermione understood now. The other quills that Umbridge had used the years before carved words into your skin, but the skin healed over. These quills didn't allow the skin to heal over before they wrote something else. She tried to think of a way to make it less painful. She wrote slower and pressed less on the parchment. For a moment, her plan seemed to be working, but then she felt a sharp shock crawl up her hand. She jumped, a squeak of pain escaping her lips. Umbridge looked at her and smiled softly.

"You'd better write faster, my dear." She told her warmly. Hermione looked at her sharply, then down at her quill. These 'new quills' were worse than the old ones. She set the quill to her paper and wrote it again. I am not a witch. I am not a witch. I am not a witch. The words kept etching themselves into her hand, deeper and deeper into her flesh as she continued to write it over and over again. I am not a witch. I am not a witch. I am not a witch.

Soon, Hermione was crouching over the paper, her breathing coming up her throat in irregular spurts and out of her mouth. Her hand trembled as she wrote on the paper and, after not even three minutes, she was finished the page. Hermione looked up at Umbridge, who was watching her pleasantly, sipping her hot tea, which smelled amazing, a slight smile on her face.

"…T-there's no m-more room l-left." Hermione stuttered, her voice shaking. Umbridge smiled brightly at her, leaned forward and swished her wand over the paper, making her writing disappear, leaving her with a blank page once again. Hermione felt no less pain than before as she stared at Umbridge.

"Continue at the top, Miss Granger." Umbridge said pleasantly, sitting back and taking a big bite out of a crumpet she had on a tiny silver plate beside her tea. Hermione licked her lips, her stomach growling. She hadn't eaten in nearly 3 days. She felt lightheaded. Umbridge looked at her. "Miss Granger?" she called. Hermione broke out of her façade and looked at her for a moment. "Continue at the top." She repeated. Hermione looked back down at her page and began writing again. I am not a witch. I am not a witch. I am not a witch. Over and over she wrote this. The blood was now dripping onto the floor and going onto the parchment, which soaked it up and added more pain to her already agonizing left hand. Hermione sucked in air and let it out, trying to ignore the pain, but being unsuccessful. She kept writing and writing, it getting more and more painful with every stroke of her quill. After about half an hour of writing, Umbridge got up and waved her wand. The quill, parchment and blood disappeared, leaving Hermione staring at the empty desk, her hands trembling. She stared at her left hand and her own handwriting etched into her skin. A bead of blood trickled out of the cuts. I am not a witch. Umbridge went around her desk and looked at Hermione's hand.

"Oh dear. That's not nearly deep enough. Well, live and learn." She smiled at Hermione, who looked up shakily. "We'll have to continue longer tomorrow." Umbridge gestured to the cage, smiling. Hermione mustered her strength and shakily got up and went into the cell, the door slamming shut behind her and locking. Umbridge looked through the bars at Hermione for a moment. "Well, I must be off. Lots of questioning to do! I'll be back later. Go ahead and relax, my dear! You'll be here for a while!" she smiled in a silky sweet way and left, closing her door. Hermione watched her leave, her hands grasping the cold bars. After a while she turned around and sat down. She pulled out the pictures from her pocket and unfolded them. She stared at her mother and father laying on the dusty ground of Australia, pale, their eyes open and blank, staring up at her in an almost sad and disappointed way. Hermione swallowed, her chin trembling. Her eyes ached with emptiness as she stared at her parent's dead faces. She stroked her mother's cheek on the picture and had a flashback to when she was little.

"Mummy, mummy!" a four year old Hermione ran into her mum's arms, giggling adorably. Her mum hugged her tightly.

"Hey Mione, honey! How was school?" her mother asked her, pulling back and pushing a brown curl out of her eyes. Hermione smiled at her mother, showing her smaller baby teeth off. Her brown hair was shorter, but still very bushy. She had pale skin and her big chocolate brown eyes were adorable.

"It was great, mummy! Ms. Keener gave us our journals today and she made us write our alphabet in them! Of course, I was the only person there who completed it. Everyone else was being thick and wouldn't write all the letters down-," as little Hermione talked, she pulled out her notebook and showed her mum the first page, which was full of beautifully written lower and uppercase letters, from A to Z. Mrs. Granger smiled brightly and kissed Hermione's little forehead. Even when Hermione was four, she was extremely intelligent and book smart.

"That's fantastic, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you! Did you do anything else today?" she asked her. Hermione shrugged her tiny shoulders, closing her notepad and putting it in her bag.

"Not really. I sat on the wall and read the dictionary you got me during recess. It was curious. Alisha was calling me a book worm. I didn't understand…what's a book worm? Do you think I'm a worm, mummy?" Hermione asked her, her wide eyes sad and desperate for answers. Mrs. Granger looked at her daughter and led her over to the couch, sitting down with her, cuddling her into her side.

"No Hermione, I don't think you're a worm…when someone calls you a book worm it means that they think you're very smart and you like books. It's a very nice compliment." She said. Hermione looked confused.

"Then why did she say it like it was meant to be an insult?" Hermione inquired. Mrs. Granger sighed.

"Some people think it's a bad thing to be a book worm because they're scared you'll be smarter than them." she smiled and kissed her nose and Hermione smiled back, cuddling into her mum.

"I just don't like it when girls tease me like that. But whenever I try to tell them to stop, my voice gets caught in my throat." Hermione said in an ashamed voice, her smile fading. Mrs. Granger watched her daughter and squeezed her shoulders.

"You know what, hun? You need to stand up for yourself. You need to hold your head high, like this-," Mrs. Granger jerked her chin up. Hermione copied her. "And straighten your shoulders, like this-," she squared her shoulders and Hermione copied her again. "And you need to say "Stop being mean to me because you're jealous of my cleverness." Mrs. Granger said. Hermione smiled and jerked her chin up and squared her shoulders.

"Stop being mean to me because you're jealous of my cleverness." She said in a strong, firm voice. Mrs. Granger laughed, smiling brightly.

"That's it. Now, I'm making some cookies for tea later. Do you want to help?" Mrs. Granger asked. Hermione looked at her hesitantly.

"I would love to mum, but I haven't finished memorizing page 566 of the dictionary yet." Hermione told her, getting up. Mrs. Granger laughed and shook her head.

"Alright, Hermione. Go read. I'll call you when dinner is ready." She said. Hermione smiled, gave her mummy a kiss and ran off, grabbing her bag and going to her room to read and memorize her dictionary.

Hermione focused back in on her picture, feeling her eyes re-fill with tears. It felt better this way. They didn't feel dry or achy when they were tear-filled. They felt normal. Her hands shook. The picture slipped from her cold fingers. She wrapped her arms around herself, a sob coming up her throat. She closed her eyes, pushing tears onto her pale cheeks. Her mum was the reason she was the way she was. Her father had a little to do with it, but most of her personality was her mother's. She could almost hear her mother's voice in her head. "Hermione, don't forget your homework." "Honestly Hermione, don't you understand?!" Hermione had her temper too, much to her father's dismay. Hermione got her kindness and caring spirit from her dad and, of course, she looked like her dad. Back in the day, her dad had the same bushy head of brown hair and brown eyes and he had bigger front teeth too. Hermione didn't get her mother's flawless looks. She was stunning, even as a middle-aged witch. Hermione got her dad's looks and, as handsome as he was, his looks needed to stay with the male race. She missed her dad's laughter, her mother's perfume, and her kisses before she went to bed, her father complimenting her mother and her mother completely ignoring it with a blush on her cheeks. Hermione thought of her father and of all the times that they had together. Her father was her comedic relief. He had a sense of humor that no one could beat. He could make her smile with one look. They use to play this game. If Hermione was annoyed with him for some reason, or angry or frustrated, her dad would say "You'll smile in three seconds. One…two…" and, sure enough, by the time he reached two, she'd be grinning brightly. Other than her looks, she got her wonderful use of sarcasm from her father. He was quite quick with his tongue, and had a wide use of words that most people didn't understand and he was one of those people that made up words and they actually made sense. It was amazing, although Hermione got annoyed when he said he was "Flustrated" and she'd tell him off for not using proper words. He'd just laugh and keep saying the word until Hermione would smile or laugh and all would be well. He and his wife were well off, being dentists and they gave Hermione a very nice life in a small, but comfortable home. But somehow, after a couple years, Hermione noticed them getting sadder. She'd noticed they wouldn't smile as much as they would and the sparkle was gone from their eyes. When Hermione was in her fourth year at Hogwarts, she had written a very long letter to her mother about Victor Krum and how the Yule Ball went and she got a very short reply: Dearest Hermione, I am glad that you are enjoying your days at school and I'm thrilled that you found a boy. Your father and I are on overload at the clinic and we probably won't have enough time to reply to all your letters. We'll try though, honey. We love you very much. All my love, mum. Hermione thought it was odd when she read it. Her mother was a very gifted writer. She'd written many novels that she read to Hermione all through her growing up, and she was also a very involved mother. She wanted to know all the details and this conversation with her mother was something that she actually wanted to tell her everything that happened. Closer to the end of the year, Hermione was reading a book in Muggle studies and she came across something odd. It said that dentists had the highest suicide rate of any profession. Hermione talked to her mum about it when she got home that year, but she brushed it off as just being tired. Her and her mother started to drift apart as the years went by and her dad soon became her best friend. Her mum became more and more depressed. Her husband even noticed. It got so bad that, when it came time to wipe her parent's memory, Hermione made her mother remember how happy she was before any of this depression started. When Hermione left the house, she felt a huge amount of relief, not only that she was finally happy once again, but that she was free of any memories that she had been bottling up inside her for that long.

Hermione looked at the picture and propped it up against the wall, along with her picture of the Weasley family. She laid her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, trying to remember the good times with her parents before any of this ever happened to the Granger family.