The Houses Competition
House: Hufflepuff
Subject: Muggle Studies
Prompts: [Object] Hogwarts: A History and [Object] Letter
Word Count: 2549
Content Warnings: Non-graphic discussion of war and canon historical deaths
Hermione shivered in the drafty restricted section of the library. Madam Pince squinted at her permission slip. Truthfully, the permission slip was largely a formality. She was returning for her final year after having played a pivotal role in the defeat of the darkest dark wizard of all time. Headmistress McGonagall was more than happy to sign off on anything Hermione wanted to read in the restricted section, but Hermione respected the bird-like librarian enough to go through proper procedures first. After the havoc she had caused in the restricted section in earlier years, it was the least she could do.
Truthfully, it was nice to feel like just a normal student. It was a bit lonely being in N.E.W.T classes without Harry or Ron doodling or daydreaming beside her, and younger students tended to point or stare when she passed in the hallways. Ginny was happy to chat during meals, but she had her own friends and Quidditch practices to attend to. That left Hermione with a lot of time to spend in the library. Today she asked McGonagall to sign off on something she had been hoping to see for a long time: the original copy of Hogwarts: A History.
Madam Pince finished reviewing the permission form and started leading Hermione to the restricted section.
"It's a very fragile manuscript," she warned, "and very valuable. So be careful." Neither Hermione's rise to fame nor her years of diligent library use seem to have changed the librarian's stern demeanor.
They arrived at a small alcove with a table placed inside. Suspended by a permanent floating spell was a thick copy of Hogwarts: A History. The pages were tissue-thin and the original text handwritten in neat cursive. Hermione reached for a pair of gloves on the table to protect the fragile paper.
"Bathilda Bagshot wrote this herself," she whispered. "It must have taken forever."
"She kept working on it for quite a while after the original copies were published," Madam Pince supplied, her love of books breaking through her icy exterior, "there's all kinds of notes in the margins. She only donated it about ten years ago or so, and kept working on it regularly until then."
Hermione nodded. "She must have been an impressive woman." Silently, she hoped the old woman would have forgiven her for any part she had played in making her a target for Voldemort. Apparently satisfied she wouldn't damage the book, Madam Pince left Hermione alone in the alcove.
She flipped to the first chapter, "The Founding of Hogwarts." It had been the first book she had opened, curled up back on her parents couch after collecting her supplies for her first year. She hadn't known what to do with the cauldrons and robes. Her wand had even scared her a bit, but she knew what to do with books. In that short time between when she had learned she was a witch and when she had arrived at Platform 9 ¾, this had been the book that she turned to in the hope of being prepared for the strange new world she would be thrust into. She chuckled to herself about her own naïveté
; how optimistic it had been to think she could have prepared for the past 7 years simply by reading enough books.
Sure enough, there were notes in the margins, just as Madam Pince had said. Hermione squinted at one particularly crammed-in note next to a passage detailing Salazar Slytherin's departure from the school.
"The chamber is rumored to have been opened in 1942, resulting in the death of a third-year student. Rubeus Hagrid is rumored to have been expelled for this tragedy, although no evidence has ever been provided of his guilt. Tom Marvolo Riddle, who later styled himself Lord Voldemort should be noted to have also attended the school at the time, and was awarded a trophy for 'Special Services to the School'" Below that notation, this time in blue ink, was another: "1942 opening omitted from published version per request of Albus, who is concerned about effects on Rubeus Hagrid, who is a fine gameskeeper (see chapter 42 for details on duties and history of Hogwarts' gamekeepers)".
Hermione pursed her lips slightly. She was glad that Hagrid hadn't been harmed by a required schoolbook publicizing speculation about his expulsion, especially considering the fact that he was entirely innocent. On the other hand, the thought of Bathilda withholding information from a book that was widely regarded as the authority on the school made her uncomfortable. The book had originally been published between the two Wizarding Wars when few expected Voldemort to pose a problem in the future.
Voldemort had returned, though, Hermione reminded herself. She remembered waking up in the hospital wing her second year, confused and disoriented after weeks of petrification. Her parents had been brought in to visit and were distraught at what could have happened to their daughter. Could that have been prevented had Bathilda Bagshot published everything that she knew? Alternatively, would the old woman simply have become a target for Voldemort and his followers earlier?
Unsettled, Hermione continued flipping through the pages. As she reached the section on the 19th century she laughed as she remembered highlighting her edition where the book gave details on the installation of platform 9 ¾ and how to get through it. That section had proved extremely useful. While most Muggleborns had to ask a passing wizard family for instructions, she had known exactly what to do and had run through on her first try after she had turned back to wave at her parents with giddy excitement.
Hermione yawned and looked at her watch. 5 hours had passed. The sun would be setting over the lake by now. She stretched her arms above her head and debated returning to the dormitory. She had already completed most of her homework, though, so there was no need to rush. Madam Pince had not returned to kick her out at the end of the day. Hermione cast a wakefulness charm and continued flipping through the pages.
The chapter marking Hogwarts in the 1940s was titled simply, "Dark Days." Hermione flinched back when several loose-leaf pages fell from the book.
"Oh no," she said as she reached to pick them up, racking her brain for a gentle manuscript-repair charm. As she lifted the pages from the floor, she noticed that they weren't part of the book at all, but a letter bound by a cat's ear fold in the corner. She sat down and began to read the letter.
Dearest Albus,
I have known you since you were a young boy. And I have followed both your successes and your setbacks for many years now. You are still a young man, and nobody can deny you have mastered impressive magic in just a few decades of life, but I would be amiss if I did not acknowledge that youth feels failure all the more keenly and I know current events must weigh heavily upon you.
I do not know what you and Gellert did together during that summer after I introduced you, and I will not ask you to tell me. Nobody in Godric's Hollow at the time could have missed that the two of you became fast friends before the tragic loss of Ariana,after which little was seen or heard from my great-nephew for many years. While you have accomplished much since then, I must admit that part of the joy and confidence of your younger days was lost with your sister.
What I do know is that Gellert has now risen to prominence on the international stage. Muggles and muggle-borns live in hiding and in fear. My great-nephew is a brilliant wizard and only grows more powerful as each day passes. I know many in the Ministry and overseas have implored you for help and I know you have chosen to remain neutral in your school. In light of the worsening situation, I feel I must write you not as a colleague but as, I hope, a trusted family friend.
Whatever a confrontation with Gellert may cost you in grief or shame pales in light of what will be lost if he is allowed to continue to grow in strength unchecked. As much as I wish I could offer you a warm heath and some sherbet lemons as if you were still a small boy, you must be aware that every moment you allow your trepidation to stay your hand more lives are lost and more families torn apart. I must implore you to find the strength and courage to do what must be done; history will not look kindly on you if you fail to do so now.
With love and deepest concern,
Bathilda Bagshot
Hermione drew back into herself and let out a deep breath. She hadn't really doubted that Rita Skeeter's narrative, as sensationalized as it was written, had a seed of truth in it. Skeeter had interviewed Bagshot under Veritaserum, which would ensure Bathilda told the true story, however much it had been twisted by Skeeter's writing. And Aberforth had confirmed many of the details, anyway. Even knowing what she did, reading the letter still unsettled her. There in neat cursive was a woman Hermione had trusted chiding Dumbledore for delaying in confronting Grindelwald.
"He was targeting muggles," she whispered to herself. People like her parents. She shuddered. During the war, Hermione had grown used to risk and danger, but she had also been fortunate that many of her teachers and friends stood up to protect those they could at great cost to themselves. She struggled to imagine Dumbledore just sitting by, hiding, while others were left to suffer from a problem he had helped fuel.
Hermione placed her hands on the table to stop them from shaking. There didn't seem to be a reply to Bathilda's letter. Had she never actually sent it? Or had Dumbledore kept it and placed it in the book sometime after it was donated to the library? Carefully, she flipped through the rest of the book, searching for other loose pages. There were none throughout the sections detailing Grindelwald's eventual fall, the decades following, or the First Wizarding War. Near the end though, she found one more letter.
Dearest Lily and James,
It was, as ever, a joy to join you for tea this past weekend. Your son continues to grow so quickly, and races around the house on his small broom. One day we will be watching him play at Hogwarts, if not professionally. It is a great comfort to experience the joy of a child, so blinded by the love within his home that he is rendered oblivious to the dangers beyond it. You have my eternal gratitude for welcoming me into your lives.
Most Sincerely,
Bathilda Bagshot
This letter had clearly never been sent because in blue ink below the black letter there was a note added. Hermione read it carefully.
This letter was never posted, because the evening before I intended to make the trip to place it in the Potter's mailbox they were attacked and murdered by the dark wizard styling himself Lord Voldemort. Miraculously, Harry Potter has survived the attack that killed his parents and has been taken to a place of safety. Voldemort himself seems to have been destroyed or at least severely weakened by the event, but time will tell.
This morning, the wizarding world celebrates the end of a great threat, while the remains of a young family's home can be seen still smoking from my window. I have seen darkness rise and fall more than once in my lifetime and I suspect it will rise in one form again in the future. I will leave these unposted letters in the original copy of my book so interested readers who come upon it may benefit in the future.
Hermione heard Madam Pince's footsteps in the distance. Quickly she drew her wand from her robes and murmured a copying charm over the two letters before putting them back in their appropriate places. Then she hid the copies in her robes just before the librarian arrived and silently gestured her out of the library.
Once out of the library, Hermione turned and made a beeline towards the headmistress's office. McGonagall had trusted her with the password, but she still stopped long enough to knock.
"Come on," the headmistress said.
"Nepeta cataria," Hermione informed the gargoyle, remembering the Latin name for catnip. The gargoyle moved to allow entry.
"Do you need anything, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked.
"If you don't mind, may I speak with Dumbledore's portrait?" The Dumbledore in the portrait placed down a newspaper he had been reading and peered at her over half-moon spectacles as McGonagall nodded her assent and returned to some paperwork.
"I–I was reading the original edition of A History of Hogwarts," Hermione explained, suddenly feeling rather awkward.
"A wonderful book," said the portrait, smiling, "you would make a fine History of Magic professor, although I fear our current one has no desire to retire anytime soon."
Hermione smiled, although she got the sense the joke was meant to deflect what she had to say next. "I found a couple of letters in the book."
"Ah, yes," the portrait looked as uncomfortable as a portrait could.
"I want to send a copy of this one," she held up the letter addressed to the Potters, "to Harry. He has little enough to remind him of his parents."
"Of course," the portrait responded, still looking anxious. Hermione shifted her weight as she prepared what she had to say next,
"And I want to write a book including this one," she held up the earlier letter, "and I want to include everything that happened both with Grindelwald and Voldemort. The entire history of wizarding conflicts in the Twentieth Century. Because people will forget, and nobody will believe Rita Skeeter's account. They barely believe that garbage now. And I don't want anybody to forget because I don't want this to ever happen again."
The portrait looked down, whether in thought or out of a desire to avoid eye contact Hermione wasn't sure, but when he looked up there seemed to be both pride and regret painted in its eyes.
"That's a noble goal."
"So, are you ok with it? The letter is written to you, I would understand if you don't want everybody to know."
Dumbledore looked up at the top of his frame, "The time for what I want has passed, I think it is a story that should be told, whatever my feelings would have been about it."
Hermione nodded and turned to thank McGonagall for allowing her use of the office. The headmistress looked up first.
"Do let me know if you need any more materials from the library for your project. I'd like to hear how it's going."
Hermione nodded.
"And say hello to Potter and Weasley for me, I do hope they're keeping themselves out of trouble. I daresay this school is too quiet without them."
"I will," she promised. And with that, Hermione left, holding the two letters she hoped would provide a permanent reminder of the cost of their hard-won peace.