Dead.
They're all dead.
Every last one of them, dead.
Except me, I'm the unfortunate one who lived.
I am the survivor, I'm the hope.
I will be the end.
Hermione was supposed to be strong when it came to being the realist of the group. She was supposed to state when the events were not turning in their favor, but she also did not want to become hopelessly pessimistic. At times she would sugarcoat the truth, other times she would flat out lie. Of course, there were times when she would beg herself to tell the truth, but the truth no longer came out of Hermione Granger's mouth. The truth was no longer wanted, the quick-tongued Granger that she believed everyone loved was no longer wanted.
"We will head up the rear end to infiltrate the headquarters and then hit them with a quick surprise tactic, they won't see it coming this time," Ron enthusiastically claimed, but there was a tired voice behind that enthusiasm and she knew he didn't actually believe it.
The entire order was in the room, listening in on the latest attack plan Ron, one of the main strategists, came up with. This happened every week or so, they would meet in that cold, damp, and stuffy room and discuss what was supposed to be hope. And there was hope, there was. But none of it came from Hermione, none of it came from McGonagall, no hope came from the older members of the order. She and they were not so easily fooled, although that didn't stop them from wanting to be.
"He is at this pathetic speech again," Snape murmured to her, finally arriving at the meeting an hour late.
A stiff nod came from her, she and Severus discussed on multiple occasions that the speeches would eventually need to stop. That at some point the hard truth would need to come down on the younger and new members of the order, but for some reason, they couldn't bring themselves to do it.
Three years, it's been three years since Voldemort 'won', a technical win as Harry was never killed, but neither was he. The domination in the London wizard world was of no comparison to any other, his numbers were growing exponentially. Those from America, Africa, Russia, and more eventually started flooding in, wanting to join before their world began to crumble as well. Hermione couldn't blame them, she couldn't ask them to fight in something that she was beginning to struggle fighting for.
The order was too light, they were fighting an uphill battle. No dark curses, no killing, no intentionally causing harm, these are just a few statements that are repeated daily.
'The good side never wins if they end up becoming bad in the process.'
She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the statement that has become motto like in the younger members.
'To defeat evil you sometimes have to become evil's nightmare.'
This was what she felt like, Hermione now for a year has thought of nothing but dark curses and killing. To her, there was no winning and remaining good, not anymore. Although, no one was on her side, no one except for Severus.
"We endlessly try and fool ourselves, when will it stop Severus! When will they finally open their eyes and see that we won't win." She hissed, finding several eyes on her in judgment.
It was no secret what Hermione felt they should do, she was very open about it in previous meetings, especially right after the battle of Hogwarts. She watched her friends and those who became family to her fall.
After that it became very evident that there was no wining, child's play against adults, it was inevitable.
"It sickens me to keep attending these, giving hope to the small amount of us that still remain and acting like we know what we are up against to our new recruits. It's preposterous!"
Severus placed a hand on her shoulder and quickly guided her out of the meeting as her commotion gathered more eyes. The action would no doubt hinder the meeting as it was mandatory and one of the golden trio members abruptly left while the other never bothered showing up.
"I cannot stand these insufferable meetings in that damned room Severus!" Hermione huffed anxiously as she slammed through the door of his study.
The two had become good friends after the downfall of the Great War. She had always felt that there was something to him that didn't quite seem right as every student swore upon his undoubted evil. Of course, he was quite mean at times, but in the end he achieved one of the greatest and most important roles in the war and continues to carry that role. Call it intuition, if you would, but that feeling never disappeared.
"You're being weak," Severus snapped at her as he shut the door. "Brightest witch of her age and she cannot even manage to hold her tongue through one measly meeting."
She shot him a hot glare as she went to prepare herself some tea to try and calm herself down.
"Oh please, that pathetic line means nothing anymore." She claimed, motioning for him to pass her the kettle and prepare it the muggle way (which she felt was far more superior). "Harry Potter the boy who lived! The boy who shall save us! The boy of which the prophecy speaks!" She theatrically claimed in a mocking voice. "Please, if anything he is 'Harry Potter, the boy who can no longer be bothered!'"
"No one ever claimed the prophecy to be something from the Gods," Severus borely murmured, a statement he often reminded the members of the order as they began to whine. "Half of the pathetic prophecy's ever come true, always forgotten of, lost in translation, even changed as years go on."
"Let's be honest with ourselves, Severus," Hermione began as the kettle started to boil. "Prophecies are just another pathetic way of trying to control time. It's truly moronic how pure bloods truly believe they are so far different from muggles when both have the excruciating tendency of wanting to know and control the future." She claimed, slumping her tea bag sloppily into her cup and carefully taking a sip. She could already feel the nerves begin to leave her.
With that the two sat in silence, another hobby they both enjoyed as the two felt no need to engage one another without end. A full 30 minutes past before they began to hear the brush of feet at the doorway. McGonagall swiftly let herself in and took a deep breath.
"This won't go on for much longer."
"I'll say, I'm surprised Ronald was able to keep this charade up for this long. The lasting members of the order must truly be desperate enough to believe in something yet are not desperate enough to stop stupidly putting their lives at risk."
"Miss Granger," McGonagall drawled. "There will be no more of that. If it's hope that they need then Ron is at the very least doing his best to provide, and must I say he is doing a quite a fine job at it no thanks to you two."
Hermione casted her gaze down, she knew the words she spoke were true. But she was tired, she was so tired. Constantly watching those she had come to know, come to love as family and have them die in her arms without a clue in the world as to how to save them. Severus was correct, she might have been called the brightest witch of her age, but she was anything but.
"Something is coming," McGonagall suddenly rushed out. "The air, it's shifted. There is a tension unlike before and we are more then hopeless."
"Indeed, I know what you speak of. The Dark Lord feels this as well, he has been summoning every Seer he possibly can." Severus claimed.
"He must feel the prophecy has changed," Hermione chimed in. "That or fears that the original was not properly delivered."
"Oh yes, at times it can be quite difficult to properly deliver a prophecy. That's the reason why so many are left abandoned," McGonagall continued.
"The winds have shifted." Severus gravely claimed, eyeing the two of them with tired eyes. "I will do what I can to be amongst the first to hear of any new prophecy, although it will be difficult. Most likely the Dark Lord will be torturing these Seers for information, leaving lies and deception in its wake as these individuals do their best to live."
"Will you not be the Legilimens on the situation?" Hermione questioned confused, "How would you not be among the first to know?"
"I am no longer the Dark Lords right hand, a new individual has risen in the ranks."
The two stared at Severus, confused yet curious as to who could have possibly tackled the process of gaining Voldemort's trust.
"The Viceroy Supreme Malfoy."