Finding Faith

HSW&W, Assignment 2 | Gryffindor | Amulets & Talismans, Task 4 - Write about someone practicing religion | WC: 1234

IPC #820 - [Restriction] Exactly 1234 words.

365 #142 - Home

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Hermione was reasonably certain that she was the only one in the castle who knew about the little chapel. She had never seen anyone else there, and nobody ever mentioned it. It wasn't even in Hogwarts: A History (she had checked). And the only other person their year who was religious was Anthony Goldstein, and Hermione wasn't sure if he would pray in a chapel.

It had been the hardest thing for Hermione to come to terms with when she found out she was a witch. Learning had always come easy to her, but faith had been harder. She often questioned her beliefs and whether they were right, but deep down she had known what she believed until she got the letter from Hogwarts.

What if all the prophets from the bible were just wizards that non-magical people hadn't understood? What if that's all saints were? Did it mean that god didn't exist at all? Had Christ rising from the dead simply been a ghostly apparition?

She spent weeks trying to make sense of it all and pouring over any magical history book she could get her hands on. The more she read about the wizarding world, the more she felt her faith slipping. Miracle after miracle could be explained by the spells and potions in her new textbooks. But Hermione found a cornerstone from which to rebuild. There was no magic that could raise the dead the way Christ had raised Lazarus. As she held onto that thought, Hermione found that there was more in her faith that couldn't be explained by magic. Salves could not restore a blind man's sight, spells could not cure leprosy, and no magic wielded by man could calm a tempest. As Hermione found more exceptions, she felt her faith strengthen, and she felt guilty that she had ever begun to doubt. She resolved never to waiver while she was at school.

Hermione was three weeks into her third year when she found the little chapel. It was nestled in a side corridor of the castle, high up on the fifth floor, with beautiful stained glass windows that overlooked a part of the grounds that students rarely roamed. She had been wandering on her own, trying to walk off all the thoughts stirring in her mind. Harry didn't seem to be taking the threat of Sirius Black earnestly, and it worried her. She had been wandering throughout the castle and stumbled on the chapel, instantly enchanted by its beauty. The chapel became her sanctuary - a place where she could find peace in her faith each week, and she attended vigilantly.

As usual, early Sunday morning, Hermione knelt in the pew alone, bowing her head and crossing herself the way she had done so many times before. She began to whisper the words that brought her comfort.

Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from all Evil. For the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory are yours, now and forever. Amen.

It was the intonation with which she always began her prayers on Sunday mornings. From there, she opened a weathered copy of the bible nestled in one of the cabinets tucked away in the chapel, and began to read. At mass, they would normally read a passage from the Old Testament, one from the New Testament, and one from the four Gospels. But Hermione didn't know which passages were assigned for each week, so she simply read through the bible sequentially. She read aloud, a few chapters each week, because she often found that hearing the words echo through the little chapel brought new meaning to them. When she finished the readings, she would reflect on it for a while, trying to find what it was she was supposed to learn from them. Whenever Hermione looked up from her reflections, she would find a small goblet of wine and plate with one wafer laid out on the altar at the front. Somehow she knew that the prayers for transubstantiation weren't necessary. She stood and recited the Lord's Prayer, her hands held out and her head tipped back slightly, and then she spoke the words which always brought her the most calm.

"Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed."

Hermione felt so changed by those words each week, it was almost as if a gust of forgiving wind swept through the chapel and washed her clean. She walked up to the altar and partook of the body and blood, as she would have at home. Turning around, Hermione stopped short. Suddenly, she was no longer alone in the chapel.

Padma Patil stood in the doorway, looking curiously at her.

"What are you doing?" she asked softly, stepping forward slightly now that Hermione had seen her.

"Praying," Hermione answered. "I miss being able to go to mass, so I do my best to recreate it here. It brings me peace."

"You still believe?" Padma asked again, looking around the chapel and taking in the scenery.

"I...I had some doubts, when I first got my letter, but I realized that magic wasn't the answer to miracles," Hermione said, not entirely sure why she was sharing this. She had always felt that faith and religion was very personal.

"I don't mean magic," Padma interrupted, shaking her head. "I meant after every that's happened the last two years. Voldemort, possession, trying to kill people…"

"It's awful," Hermione agreed with furrowed brows, "but why should that make me question my faith?"

"You can witness all that and still believe in a god who loves you?"

"I think…" she paused for a second to examine how she truly felt and find the right words. "I think that god loves us all, and he shows us by sending the people and the tools we need to fight people like Voldemort."

"That's a rather brave view," Padma said, smiling wryly. "No one you're in Gryffindor. I always thought you were a natural Ravenclaw, but perhaps I was wrong."

Hermione smiled, not sure how to respond. In truth, she had always agreed with Padma, and often wondered why she had been sorted into Gryffindor instead.

"I think my faith is what allows me to be brave," she said. "When I feel scared or unsure, I pray, and then usually I feel more confident."

"It must be nice to be so sure."

Padma looked so sad, and Hermione felt for her. She could empathize with Padma more than she expected. More than once, her analytical mind had gotten in the way of her faith, but she thought that maybe they key to let go. Sometimes, you just had to believe.

"Do you want to pray with me?" Hermione asked tentatively. "It might be calming."

"Okay," Padma agreed. "That would be lovely."

They exchanged prayers from both their religions, and from that week on, Hermione had a friend with her in the chapel. They would pray together, and debate afterward, and Hermione felt that this new ritual brought her even more peace than practicing alone had.