Disclaimer: JK Rowling is a proud member of the Indecent Minority—oh, wait, wrong headline. Um, she also owns Harry Potter.

A/N: Credit to essarg for pointing out the issue of Lavender and the prophecy.

Chapter 21

Hermione extended the tape measure to the corner of the trilithon and noted the distance. "That's six feet, ten and one-quarter inches," she said.

"Six feet, ten and one-quarter inches," Sonya squeaked, and she made a note on the parchment blueprint.

Hermione had had to send to her parents for a tape measure long enough to measure the huge circle that made up the anchor stones of Hogwarts Castle. She had two puzzles she wanted to solve about this place before she left: why the stones weren't arranged perfectly symmetrically, and why she couldn't seem to map the space at the top of the Great Tower. The centre of the circle lay directly underneath that strange point hundreds of feet above, so it shouldn't be that complicated.

The first problem Hermione was pretty sure had to do with the alignment of the ley lines. She had pretty quickly determined that the circle was perfectly aligned with true north, and that the arrangement was reflected north and south, as well as east and west. Now, she was carefully measuring the positions of each corner of each of the six trilithons in one quadrant of the circle. Dobby held the other end of the hundred-foot tape measure, while Sonya, whose handwriting was better, noted the distances on a blueprint Hermione had drawn up. The two elves were helping her get the job done much faster than would have been able to otherwise.

Hermione had also borrowed Colin's camera to take a few pictures, but she wasn't going to bother photographing all of the thousands upon thousands of runes that adorned the anchor stones. She could only guess at what a lot of the runes did. Some appeared to be intended to send and receive commands from other stone circles. Perhaps there was one at the Ministry for easy access. She seemed to remember hearing about a similar arrangement in France: a nationwide network of rune stones controlled from Paris, but anchored to a circle at the strongest ley line convergence in the country. In France that place was at Beaune, a long way from Beauxbatons. In Britain, she thought it was at Hogwarts, but it was possible that was just bragging.

As for the second problem, that was a little harder. She saw some runes that looked to be related to the geometry of the wards, but she didn't have time to work out the equations, so she took a photo for later. She'd already considered the possibility that there was some kind of mathematical singularity at the very top of the tower, but that didn't explain why the entire turret above the fifteenth floor should be inaccessible to mapping.

"Ten feet three inches exactly," she called another dimension.

"Ten feet three inches," Sonya repeated.

It didn't take them long to get all of the measurements, and after that, Hermione had just one more stop. She walked back over to the section of the stone floor where the runes connecting the wards to her Map and the Marauder's Map were located, got out a hammer and chisel, and began carving a couple additional runes.

"What is you doing, Miss Hermione?" Sonya asked.

"I'm adding a subroutine to detect large magical creatures in the castle—larger than humans, that is," she said over the ringing blows of the chisel. I realised that we've had a mountain troll and a basilisk roaming this castle since I've been here, and nobody was able to track them…The wards aren't really designed to identify animals like that, but it should…be able to tag…there—any moving object big enough and magical enough to be a dangerous beast."

She finished the runes and then laid out the Mathemagician's Map and activated the corresponding runes she'd added to it. Sure enough, there was one such creature identified. A large, pulsing red dot labelled Rubeus Hagrid.

"Hmm, I was afraid of that. Hagrid also meets the parameters for a dangerous beast. I'll have to see if I can grandfather him out. But at least it's working." Sadly, that was all she could do for now. The little information box for the Great Tower would remain frustratingly vague.

Instead of tiny, hard-to-read animations, anyplace there was a trick door or a secret passage, Hermione had drawn a little icon of a key, which, when tapped with a wand, would turn into a pop-up box telling how to get through it. Unfortunately, all she could write for that one was, Great Tower Upper Levels: Weird, endless space-distorting magic. Proceed with caution.

"Sonya will be missing Miss Hermione and Dobby when you is gone again," her elf friend said as they climbed back up the stairs. "It is too bad you cannot be staying at Hogwarts for all of your schooling, miss."

"Yes, I know, but those are the times we live in," Hermione said. "And I'm afraid it's going to get worse before it gets better."

"All the Hogwarts elves is worried, miss," Sonya said. "We remembers what it was like when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was strong. It was being bad for us even here. And house elves is not made for big adventures and dark times…Although…" She whispered conspiratorially. "…I has had fun with some of them."

"You have?" Hermione said in surprise.

"Yes, Miss Hermione. Dobby has had more adventures with you than most house elves ever does, and I has been with you sometimes. It was very scary, but Sonya was glad to be helping yous escape danger and stop bad wizards."

Hermione and Dobby both began to look at Sonya in a new light. They knew she was outgoing and liked to push the social boundaries, but this was new "Sonya, I think you are the closest thing to a Gryffindor house elf I've ever met," Hermione said, causing the elf to blush. "And I think it's brilliant. Don't ever let the other elves tell you off for it."

Dobby nodded firmly. "I helps Miss Hermione and Harry Potter and their friends any way Dobby can," he said. "It is good work for elves. I am glad you wants to help wizards, too."

"I think you is wise, Dobby," Sonya replied. "Cooking and cleaning is good elf work, but we shoulds be ready to help wizards with big things, too, like how Head Elf Hooky helped Godric Gryffindor."

Hermione remembered the story—how Hooky, the first Head Elf at Hogwarts, had played a decisive role in Gryffindor's duel with Salazar Slytherin, which had ended with Slytherin's exile from the castle. Of course, wizards paid so little attention to elves that they rarely had such an opportunity. "Well, I certainly won't ever forget how much help elves can be," she promised. "And Sonya, if things get too bad here with Umbridge, and if you have a chance to get away, you can always come to me. I sure I can find a way to make arrangements for you."

Sonya shuddered at the thought, but she nodded weakly. "Thank you, Miss Hermione. Sonya will remember that."

"Dobby will miss Sonya, too," Dobby said softly.

"Thank you, Dobby," she said.

Since Hermione was trying to keep her head down, and Harry was pretty much forced to, things quieted down at Hogwarts as they moved into December. Hermione was mostly marking time until she could get out at Christmas. She still had mixed feelings about leaving Harry, George, and the other Weasleys behind, but she was firmly resolved that it was safer this way—not that Umbridge couldn't pull the same stunt with Ron or Ginny, but Dumbledore could probably find accommodations for purebloods like them in a trice. Harry was pretty well stuck, though.

The one sore spot was the continuing war of words, heated correspondence, and cautiously-written letters to the editor about the Gamp and Wenlock Prizes. That was not going well. The letters Hermione had received and saw printed from Transfiguration Today and Annals of Arithmancy pretty much said she was deserving of the prizes without coming out and saying it, but they hedged this statement with "concerns" and "evaluations" and "public significance" and similar weasel words that basically boiled down to the Ministry not wanting them to honour someone who was a "worrisome political agitator" and an "alarmist". That, apparently, was enough reason to seriously consider not giving her and Septima and Rebecca two prestigious international awards for which they were clearly qualified. That was what happened when the prize-giving associations were based in Britain and affiliated, however loosely, with their home country's Ministry. Politics trumped all.

The struggle also led Rebecca, though she couldn't properly be angry at Hermione, to direct more unkind words at her amid her more general complaints about how unfair the situation was.

"I'm sorry you got wrapped up in this, Rebecca," Hermione told her more than once. "I know it's really unfair to you. But neither of us could have seen Umbridge coming when we published. It was something we couldn't control."

"Well, that doesn't help me much now, does it?" Rebecca said.

"I'm doing all I can," she replied, though she had to wonder. There was one thing she could do, but it was drastic. She even wrote home to ask her parents for advice, but the reply she got wasn't very helpful:

Dear Hermione,

We're sorry you're having such trouble about these awards. You clearly deserve them if we understand the way research works in the magical world at all, but if the Ministry is determined the railroad you, there may be very little you can do. The only thing we could suggest is a larger letter-writing campaign, like you did for Harry, but it sounds like most of the press is on the Ministry's side, so that might not help. You said your friend Luna's father publishes a magazine. Could he be of any help?

Unfortunately, this isn't a decision we can make for you. You're going to have to use your own judgement. Like it or not, it sounds like anything you do will be a political act. Just be conscious of what message it's likely to send, how effective it's likely to be, and what the consequences will be. And know that we'll support you in whatever decision you make.

Love from,

Mum and Dad

So she would have to use her own judgement. Well, she would do that. The Quibbler didn't have much readership, although she would keep it in mind. The problem was that when she did consider the message she was sending, the consequences, and especially the likely effectiveness of each course of action open to her, they all seemed to be pointed in the same direction.

Hermione didn't get much sleep that night, but by morning, she had made her decision.

"Rebecca, I need to talk to you," she said when she approached the older Ravenclaw the next day.

"If you're here to apologise again, Granger, you can save it," she said. "We've already been over this."

"Actually, I had something different to say," Hermione said, and Rebecca stopped and looked at her. Hermione took a deep breath. "I've withdrawn my name."

Rebecca's eyes widened. "What?" she said, certain she'd misunderstood.

"I wrote to Transfiguration Today and Annals of Arithmancy this morning and withdrew my name from consideration for the Gamp and Wenlock prizes."

"What?"

"Without admitting to anything," she clarified, "and while still insisting that you deserved the awards for your part in the work. They'll be able to give them just to you now without tying me to them."

Rebecca was speechless. Her mouth opened and closed several times as she couldn't find the words to say. She eventually settled on "Why? Why would you do that?"

"Because deep down, I knew that Umbridge would never let me receive those awards, and I have more important battles to be fighting," Hermione said firmly.

"But…but still, this ought to be the crowning moment of your career! I would've fought tooth and nail for it in your position. Hell, that's what I've been doing for the past month!"

"Rebecca, I'm still young, even by Arithmancer standards—young and still studying new branches of maths. I have plenty of time to make a name for myself, but I have to focus on surviving the war first….And also…Even though I don't care for your attitude—to be frank, I've never cared for your attitude right from the start—but it's not fair to you to be shut out of these awards because of a stupid political feud that I'm tied up in. I know how much they mean to you. At least you can still get them."

Rebecca couldn't speak again, and she started to turn pink. Hermione knew she'd embarrassed her with that last bit. Rebecca was proud and wouldn't want to give up the awards, but she would still feel uncomfortable about Hermione going all noble on her.

"I…thank you, Hermione," she said at last. "You didn't have to do that."

"No, I didn't, but I thought it was the best statement I could make—withdrawing on my own terms before they could shut me out. Think of it as a protest."

"A protest? Wow. Hermione, I really hope I never have to live your life."

"That makes two of us, Rebecca," she said.

Predictably, Umbridge wasn't shy about gloating once she found out what Hermione had done. "Finally, the truth comes out," the toad woman grinned. "You're just a mediocre, fifth-year spellcrafter riding on the coattails of the truly gifted from more established families."

Hermione was ready for her, though. "I did not admit to anything, Professor," she said. "I merely determine that it would be beneficial to all involved if I withdrew. You can believe whatever you want to believe. I know the truth, and that's enough."

"Hmph. Yes, well…do try to be less disruptive in the future."

"Of course, Professor."

She felt like she needed a shower after that, but at least she only had a couple more weeks.

As Hermione prepared to leave, one of the remaining chores she had to do was to close out her study group with Greengrass and Davis. She didn't advertise her plans to leave widely, and to the extent she did, she was content to let most people think she was still going to Beauxbatons, so she didn't clue them in until their final meeting of the term. Needless to say, they were surprised at her true motivations.

"I've got to say, Granger," Greengrass said, "I never pegged you as one to give up. You don't seem like the type who'll stop for anything."

"I may be Gryffindor, Greengrass, but I'm smart enough to know when to stop beating my head against a wall," Hermione replied. "And anyway, this was the plan from the start. My parents didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts, and they were really angry when the Ministry forced me to. I was always planning to leave again after Christmas Holidays. But here's the thing—and keep this to yourselves till the train leaves, if you don't mind—I consider it a victory because I found a way that I don't actually have to leave Britain."

"You're not going back to Beauxbatons?" Davis said in surprise.

"Nope."

"How?" asked Greengrass. "You'd need a tutor, and no offence, but most of them are elite purebloods."

"Most of them are, but Septima knows one who cares about academic potential just as much as family history: Horace Slughorn."

The other girls' eyes widened. "Slughorn?" Greengrass said. "The old Potions Master? He's supposed to be really good." She thought a bit more. "Is he good at the other subjects, though?"

"Septima says he is." It was half true. She'd relied more on Professor Dumbledore's report of him. "She did call him an incorrigible influence peddler, but if he can teach better than Umbridge, that's good enough for me."

"He'll be way better than Umbridge," Davis said. "I think I'm jealous, now. Looks like you'll be the only one to pass your O.W.L."

"I don't think I'll be the only one," Hermione said knowingly.

"Well, I know I won't," she grumbled.

"Sure you will, Tracey," Greengrass said. "I told you you can come to my place to practice over Yule."

"Daphne, even if I come for Yule and Ostara, that'll probably only be enough to scrape an Acceptable on the practical."

"You're worrying too much, Tracey."

Hermione thought she saw an opening. "Davis, can I give you some advice?" she said.

"Advice?"

"About learning practical Defence?"

Greengrass and Davis grew suspicious. "Why?" Greengrass said. "Can you get around Umbridge's rules? And if you can, why tell us?"

"Because I really appreciate you helping me this year," Hermione said. "Not many Slytherins will give a Gryffindor the time of day, let alone a muggle-born."

"What can we say?" Greengrass said. "We're like Slughorn. We care more about academic potential."

"That's a very good policy. But I want to tell you—both of you, but especially you, Davis, since you're worried—when you come back for spring term, if you're still worried about passing your Defence O.W.L., and if you're willing to swear yourselves to secrecy because, yes, Umbridge has her rules…" She considered how to put it. "…you can talk to Harry—"

"Potter?!" Greengrass spat. "Are you barmy? You're one thing, Granger, but Potter is persona non grata in Slytherin."

"All the more reason for secrecy, then. We have ways of keeping your involvement from becoming known."

"We?" Davis asked.

"That's what I said."

"And Potter would be willing to help us?"

"If I put in a good word for you, I think he will."

"What if we don't want to pick sides, Granger?" Greengrass said, more carefully than before.

"You'll have to pick sides sooner or later," Hermione told them. "If you really believe Voldemort is back—" They flinched. "—which I think most of Slytherin does in private, you'll either be for him or against him. He thinks in absolutes." She let that sink in and saw the two girls shudder. "Just something to think about. Now, any last words of wisdom about Charms?"

"A few," Davis snapped out of it, "but if you're going to be learning from Horace Slughorn, I don't think you'll need them. Got any for Arithmancy?"

"Lots, but at your current level, I'll restrain myself to giving you some pointers about parametric functions that ought to make computing wand motions a lot easier for you…"

Hermione thought the conversation had been productive. She wanted to tell Harry about her conversation the next day, but she soon discovered that there had been a commotion while she slept, out of the way on the top floor of the girls' side of the tower, and Harry and all of the Weasleys were no longer in the castle.

Neville looked so nervous the next day that he wouldn't speak to Hermione about the incident above a whisper. "Harry was screaming in his sleep," he told her. "It was awful—sounded like he was dying. He woke Ron and me straightaway. I don't know how Dean and Seamus slept through. Then, he woke up and started shouting about Ron's dad being attacked. I thought he'd gone mad, but I went to Professor McGonagall for help, and the next thing I knew she came and took him and Ron and the Twins away—and I guess Ginny, too. I haven't seen them since."

"Did you hear what was going on with Harry?"

"I don't know. I think he had some kind of vision. McGonagall seemed to think Ron's dad really had been attacked."

"He had a vision?" she gasped.

"Yeah, I guess."

That was not good. Harry's Occlumency was supposed to have stopped that. Well, there was only one person she could talk to about visions: Professor Dumbledore. She had to try his office three times before she caught him when he was in, but he did finally take the time to talk to her.

"I'm afraid Arthur Weasley was attacked last night in the course of his duties for the Order, by a large snake sent by Voldemort. He is currently in stable condition in St. Mungo's. He is not entirely out of the woods yet, but the Healers are confident he will recover."

"That's horrible," she said. "How did he—? What was he—?"

"It is probably best if you don't know the details, Hermione," Dumbledore said.

"Neville said Harry had a vision of it happening, Professor."

"That is correct."

"Why couldn't he block it out with Occlumency? I thought he was making progress."

"Indeed, Professor Snape reports that Harry has made admirable progress with Occlumency, though he of course didn't put it in those terms. However, it appears that Harry experienced an unusually strong vision from Voldemort—quite by accident, I'm sure—and he was unprepared for such a powerful assault on his mind, especially in his sleep. I am still confident he will be able to become proficient. I believe you were worried about him keeping your secrets? He should should be able to do that long before he can block out the visions. Nonetheless, you should continue to encourage him and remind him of both motives."

"Of course, Professor."

"Very good. And now, I think you must prepare to leave. It is sad to see you go again, but I trust you will be in good hands."

"Thank you, sir."

Hermione left the Headmaster's office deep in thought and after dinner returned to her dorm to pack up. She would have to say goodbye to her roommates again tonight, for all the complications that offered. Things had been different this year. Sally-Anne and Lily still weren't speaking to each other, and it was clearly a strain on both of them. Parvati and Lavender were still close when they discussed fashion and gossip and whatever other things teenage girls liked to talk about. (And here Hermione was spending her time inventing hexes!) But those two had simply agreed not to speak about Voldemort with each other.

"Is it true?" Parvati asked her. "The rumours say Ron's dad was attacked last night. Was he? All the Weasleys are gone today—"

"Yes, it's true, Parv," Hermione said sadly. "He was bitten by a giant snake last night. I guess it was really bad, but they're pretty sure he's going to live."

"That's terrible! And Ron's such a nice boy—"

Lavender snorted.

"He is, Lav! He has some growing up to do, but he's nice enough. How did it happen? Where did the snake come from?"

"Voldemort sent it."

"Oh, please," Lavender said even as she jumped in surprise. "Are you still on about that?"

"Yes, Lavender, because it's true," Hermione snapped.

"So you say. I didn't see anything in the Prophet about it today."

"That's because it's being hushed up by the Ministry. They don't want to say Voldemort was behind it, do they?"

"That's convenient, isn't it? How do we know it even happened, then? Or maybe the 'giant snake' was he got it mixed up with a muggle electrical cord."

"Okay, that's it!" Hermione snapped. She drew her wand and pointed it at Lavender.

"Whoa! Whoa!" her roommates said.

"Hermione, you can't—" Parvati started.

"Oh, cool it, Parv. I'm leaving tomorrow. Umbridge can't expel me now. I don't know what's got into you, Lavender, but Ron's dad could have died last night! All the Weasleys have gone today. You may not want to believe it, but it's happening—"

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her arm gently pushing her wand down. "Hermione, calm down," Sally-Anne told her quietly. "She's not worth it."

Hermione sighed and nodded to her friend, but she looked back at Lavender sadly. "Lavender, what happened to you?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Don't you remember what happened in third year?"

"What?" She looked like she'd been completely thrown for a loop.

"You and Parv came running to me screaming that Professor Trelawney had made a prophecy—a prophecy about a dark lord who would be restored to power by his servants and a coming war that would be worse than the last one. I still remember it? Don't you? I didn't think I believed it myself, but Professor Dumbledore did, and it turned out to be true. Why did you stop believing it?"

"A prophecy?" said Lily Moon. "That's really serious. Why didn't you tell me about that?"

"I…I guess I thought you knew," Parvati said, "but Hermione's right, Lav. You've always respected Professor Trelawney. Why don't you believe it anymore?"

"I…I…" Hermione and Parvati must have touched on some internal conflict for Lavender because she started to tear up and sniffle. "It just can't be true, can it? Wouldn't the Ministry have noticed if he was back? Wouldn't everyone have noticed?"

"Not if Fudge is doing everything he can not to believe it and covering up all evidence to the contrary," Hermione said. "And deep down, it wouldn't surprise me if part of him believes it, too, and that's why he sounds so desperate. He's trying to convince himself. I don't know why Voldemort hasn't shown himself, but I can guess it's to his advantage to keep to the shadows now and to play the Ministry and Professor Dumbledore off each other."

Lavender seemed unable to speak after that, still on the verge of tears, but Lily slowly turned to Hermione and said, "You…you really believe that, don't you?"

"Yes, I do."

"Of course she does!" Sally-Anne snapped. "That's only what she's been trying to tell us all year!"

"Sally-Anne—"

"No, Lils, I don't want to hear it?"

"Sally-Anne, please," Lily insisted. "I don't know whether to believe it or not, but prophecies are serious business. And…I can tell you're scared. If…if there's anything I can do to help?"

Sally-Anne regarded her ex-girlfriend carefully. "You need to keep more of an open mind, Lils," she said. "I guess there's not much we can do with Umbridge around, but I'd at least feel safer if you could…Hermione, what do you think?"

Hermione needed no hint to know what she was thinking. "I don't know if she's ready yet…but you can ask Harry next term."

"What?" Lily said.

"Nothing. We can talk later," Sally-Anne told her.

The five girls went to bed that night unsettled, but still with a better chance of mending fences than they'd had in months, in Hermione's estimation, so it was a start.

With Harry and the Weasleys gone, Hermione didn't have many people to sit with on the train home. She still had plenty of friends in the castle, but the ones she was closest with were definitely Neville and Luna, so she was glad to find them in a compartment together. She was amused to notice they seemed to scoot closer to each other over the course of the trip.

"So you'll be learning with a tutor from now on?" Neville said, still surprised at the news that had percolated through the school. "Do you know what he's like?"

"Apparently, he's very knowledgeable. And very, er, friendly to students who are especially promising."

"Oh, then you should have no problem there," he said, and they all chuckled. "So what are you doing for Christmas?"

"Other than that, I'll need to visit Harry and George and the others pretty soon, but mostly, I'm looked forward to spending a nice, quiet Christmas with my parents. I haven't been able to do that since second year. What about you? Nice and quiet?"

"I wish," Neville said. "Gran invites all the second and third cousins for a big Christmas dinner, and it's all very formal and tiring, and then we always go visit my parents right after it's over."

Hermione wasn't sure what to say to that. Neville's parents were in permanent care in what amounted to the mental ward in St. Mungo's, and while visiting them was important, she couldn't imagine going through that after a tiring formal dinner every year.

Luna patted Neville on the arm comfortingly. "It's just me and Dad for our holidays," she said. "It's too bad Yule was last night. I haven't been able to celebrate it properly since my second year."

"You celebrate Yule, Luna?" Hermione said. "I mean, the original Yule?"

"Well, the customs have certainly changed over the years, but yes."

"Huh…I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but…Actually, Luna, are most wizards religious at all?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't we be? We're not that different from muggles."

"Well, it's just that I hardly ever hear about it at Hogwarts. We have Christmas and Easter holidays, but there are no Sunday services or anything. And Greengrass and Davis talked about celebrating Yule and Ostara. But then, you know enough about the Last Supper to talk about it comfortably. I just wondered…"

"Oh, my family is syncretic," she said. "We go to a church in the village sometimes, but we also celebrate the Wheel of the Year. It keeps us closer to nature. It's too bad most of the festivals happen while I'm at school…I think the largest number of wizards are C of E members, but I don't think many attend besides muggle-borns."

"Not many in the muggle world either anymore," Hermione said. "Are there other religions, then?"

"Certainly. Anthony Goldstein is Jewish. I know Padma's and Parvati's grandparents are Hindu. I'm not sure if they are. I don't think there are any Muslims in Hogwarts now. I'm sure the Shafiq family were Muslims when they came to Britain, but that was two hundred years ago. And of course, most of the old pureblood families are Druidic pagans—or at least, they claim they are. I can't imagine Draco Malfoy celebrating the Wheel of the Year."

Hermione pictured Malfoy dancing around a maypole in the spring and cracked up. When she told the others, the image sustained them all the way back to London. The best part was when Malfoy himself wandered into the compartment looking for Harry, and they started laughing at him on sight. He stormed out muttering about how Potter's insanity must be catching.

When they arrived, she met her parents at the train station and hugged them just a little longer than she had the last time she saw them.

"It's good to see you, too, Hermione," Mum said. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm…tired," she said. "I'm not sure I even realised how tired until just now. But honestly, I'm feeling a lot better now that I'm free of Umbridge."

"She sounds pretty awful from your letters," Dad said. "You haven't spoken about any of your other teachers like her."

"She's not like any teacher I've ever had, Dad. You have no idea. She's a sadistic, power-hungry…" She trailed off and absently rubbed her scarred hand.

"It sounds pretty bad if she was just looking for an excuse to expel you. Could she really have done that?"

"Yes. She could have. The Ministry has so much power, I couldn't even believe it."

They started to escort her to the car. "Hermione, we've been worried about you," Mum said. "You haven't told us much of what's going on in your letters, and what you did write made you sound more stressed than usual. Are you doing alright?"

Hermione looked over her shoulder to make sure there were no obvious wizards listening in. "I'm not sure I know what alright means anymore with Voldemort back," she said softly, "but I'm getting by as well as I can. And I think I'll do better at home. It's sad to say because I love Hogwarts so much, but…"

"It sounds like you've had a really hard time of it," Mum said. "We're proud of you for staying strong, but you know we're always here for you, right?"

She nodded weakly. "I love you so much," she squeaked, and she hugged them again, trying to fight back tears.

She took a minute to collect herself as they loaded up the car. "So I haven't had time to tell you," she said, "Mr. Weasley is in the hospital."

"Oh no, what's wrong with him?" asked Mum.

"He was attacked. Voldemort set a giant, poisonous snake on him. It only happened the night before last."

"Is he going to be alright?"

"I think so, but I guess it was pretty bad. They pulled all the Weasley kids out of school in the middle of the night to see him. I'll want to visit them tomorrow."

"Of course. Goodness, I didn't realise things were getting so dangerous."

"Well, Mr. Weasley was on some secret mission for Professor Dumbledore—remember his resistance group? But you're right. It's getting bad."

"At least you'll be home with us for a while," Dad said. "We've missed you, Hermione."

"Mm hmm. I've missed you, too," she said.