September 1st, 1991
Dear Diary,
How to begin my first few steps in recording my upcoming year? To be quite honest, I have no idea. But I am excited! Just from the outside, the castle is incredible, and the architecture and design of the entire place is simply immaculate. If I had brought some sort of camera with me, I would have loved to send a picture or two to Mum and Dad, but my letters will have to do for now.
They have a few interesting policies here at Hogwarts. For example, not all of the students are together in just one school, or even separated corridors for living arrangements for boys and girls. Instead, we were all walked up to the front of the Great Hall (from what I gathered from Hogwarts: A History, the ceiling is enchanted to look like the night sky, and it was incredible!) and sat on a stool. One of the professors placed a hat on our heads and it supposedly "sorted" us into different houses. It was rather odd seeing a hat talk for the first time, but I highly doubt that's the oddest thing I'll see this year. I'm still not quite sure why that is, but I'm sure I can read up about it at a later date.
Anyways, after we were sorted, we were taken up to our respective housing arrangements. I was placed into Gryffindor, and I find that I'm liking it so far. The students seem nice enough, and I['m hoping to make a better impression for the first time then back at home. I'm hoping to make a few friends here, as per Mum's request. I don't think it should be too hard, but one never quite knows for sure.
On the train ride here, I did meet two boys who seemed polite enough. One of them was Harry Potter. Yes, The-Boy-Who-Lived I believe they refer to him as. The story isn't as clear as I would like it to be, but again, I'm sure I'll figure out more as the year goes on. The other was a red-headed boy, Ron I think his name was. He seemed a bit snobbish, and I can't say I overly enjoyed his company. Who knows, maybe I'll take a different look on them with my upcoming classes. Oh, I'm just so excited!
Until the next time,
Hermione J. Granger
1991 - September 1
Well, whatever Mother wanted me to do with this journal, I really don't know. It seems ridiculous to have to write in it, but the last thing I need right now is to have her down my neck the first week of school. So, I'll guess I'll be jotting a few things down here. Let's start from this morning then.
All of my school supplies were boarded onto the train, all new and polished of course. I did see the Weasley's piling their family on. Honestly, with the way they behave, I wouldn't think them to be pure-bloods unless I knew it myself. I could have sworn I saw one of the older boy's with a patch job on one of his robes. If they can't even afford a few new robes, I don't even know why they bother coming. Father already thinks Dumbledore has more than a few loose screws, now with more than enough Weasley's piling in here, even one that's in my year, doesn't give me hope they'll be gone anytime soon.
I met with Crabbe and Goyle, and the two lug-heads have been following me around since we stepped foot in the school. The sorting ceremony was quick and easy, and I was obviously sorted into Slytherin, same as them too. I recognized a few of the other families, including the Parkinson girl and Zabini's son. I think one of the Greengrass' girls were there, too, but I didn't pay them much attention anyway. The other Weasel was sorted into Gryffindor, and same as the bloody Boy-That-Lived. I still don't get what the big deal is, the famous Harry Potter being here and all. If I didn't know any better, I doubt he even knows what he's doing here in the first place, if seeing him in Diagon Alley was any indication.
I also noticed another girl that had been sorted into their house. I can't remember her name, but I knew she was a Muggle-Born the moment I saw her. I can't even begin to describe where everything went wrong with her appearance: her hair, her teeth, her eyes, her walk, and her goody-two-shoes look with almost every move she made. Crabbe and Goyle had a good laugh at her, too, and I'm guessing I'll be seeing more of her around here too. Hopefully not too much, though. The last thing I need is Muggle germs getting on me. Ridiculous they're even here in the first place.
Signed,
Draco M.
November 20th, 1992
Dear Diary,
As per my last few entries I suspect you know what we have come up with. Ron and Harry are nearly positive, and I can't help but agree with them. With some of the recent attacks, and practically everything in general that's been buzzing around the castle lately, we may have a lead on just who the heir of Slytherin may be. The most snobbish, snake-like boy I've ever come to meet, the one and only Draco Malfoy. He's already told me enough this year to know he truly doesn't care what would happen to the Muggle-Borns of Hogwarts should the Slytherin heir return. I have a feeling we know who that might be, and I believe he does, too.
He thinks Muggle-Borns are practically scum. His uses of Mudblood are enough to know that. As far as I know from what Ron has told me, his entire family is practically the embodiment of what a Slytherin is known for. He may be a selfish, arrogant, and bloody cockroach, but I know one thing for sure, even if I hate to say it: Malfoy isn't stupid. And from what Harry, Ron, and I have gathered so far, these attacks have been nearly calculated without leaving too much evidence behind - minus the blood writing on the wall we found. But someone with at least a bit of smarts would have to plan these attacks accordingly. And all three of us have the good sense to look out to know who thinks Muggle-Borns are beneath his too-inflated ego.
But I believe we have also come to a solution. I've done some research and spent a few extra hours in the library, and I think I've got a substantial idea. We need something that can get us inside the Slytherin common room. No one but the Slytherins are allowed inside, and even if they are, I have no idea how we're supposed to get in. Well, I do, but it won't be as us. From what I've looked in on, there is a certain potion that can give the drinker the appearance of another person for a limited amount of time. Known as polyjuice potion, it could be the key to getting us exactly what we need: an opportunity to speak with Malfoy face to face to get the information we need.
He would never directly tell us if three Gryffindors walked up to him and asked if he knew about the heir of Slytherin. I can already imagine what he'd do, and I'd rather not waste my time writing it. So, should his two cronies that follow him like moths to a flame and another Slytherin be interested in the subject, he may be more keen to open up.
I'm planning on sharing this information with Ron and Harry tomorrow, and hoping to get their input as well. The potion may be one of the most difficult I brew, but I'm certainly willing to take a risk. Despite having to break at least fifty school rules, I've already found a place in one of the abandoned girl's lavatories. It should work perfectly, and I doubt anyone but a certain ghost would disturb our work there.
I never thought that I would ever say the words that Malfoy may be actually helping us. In this case, he's one of our only leads and one of our best shots.
To be updated again in a timely fashion,
Hermione J. Granger
1992 - November 20
Whoever's behind these attacks are certainly making their rounds. Not that I mind. The more Mudbloods they take out, the better. Father even told me one died the last time they were here at the school. If they took out a few more Gryffindors, I wouldn't mind either. Especially if it was Granger.
I would personally shake their hand and give them my thanks if they did.
Granger.
Annoying, bushy-brained, high and mighty know-it-all Granger. She thinks she knows everything. Every class I have with her, she shoots her hand in the air and waves it around like she just one some sort of prize. I've seen her notes pages, and they're at least a parchment and a half long. No wonder her hair is so big, it must be where she keeps all the stuff she thinks she's so brilliant at. She's the professors' pet, except for maybe Snape. He seems to have the good sense to call on her as an honorable last resort. No wonder potions is one of the best classes they offer at this pathetic place. Snape may be the only one who knows Granger isn't all she's cracked up to be.
Her friends certainly see her as a life saver. Harry bloody Potter and the Weaselbee probably haven't done a page of homework since they got here, giving it all for the know-it-all to do for them. Father certainly isn't too happy about that, and as hard as I try, she gets on my nerves every time I get the chance to take a glance at her paper. It's always an O, or should it be potions, most of the time, an E. And I hate it.
I hate her bushy hair that she just doesn't seem to care if she tames it or not. I hate how carefully she pays attention and class and can answer every question the professor asks. I hate how she looks so attentive, and Potter and Weasley slack off like two slugs with a brain smaller than a flobberworm. I hate that she gets the answers right when she's supposed to be stupid, and supposed to be evrything I know a Mudblood to be.
I really do hate Granger. Potter and Weasley are right there with her. I hate Granger, and if she's next, I won't mind. Not one bit.
Signed,
Draco M.
March 31st, 1994
Dear Diary,
I certainly have news. It's still even hard to write it, but we met up with Hagrid today. He returned from the Ministry hearing, but I got the letter before we saw him in person. He had stumbled a bit here and there, and of course it all came back to Lucius Malfoy, claiming Buckbeak was a threat and that he had intentionally hurt Malfoy during one of Hagrid's lessons. Whatever it was, his tears blotched out most of the words in his letter. But the message was certainly clear.
Hagrid lost the case. Buckbeak's going to be executed. When, I'm not sure, but Hagrid is a complete mess.
We only managed to talk to him during one of his lessons, and we walked all the way up to the castle with him again. Poor Hagrid. He had hurried off the second we got to the castle steps and back down to his cabin. I was tempted to drag Ron and Harry back down with me, but we were all quickly distracted by the second bit of news I have to share.
Malfoy was being his obnoxious self, but this time, there was no doubt he knew what had happened during the hearing. How his father had twisted the committee into his hands and helped sentence Buckbeak to execution. His face was so smug, and his words were more revolting than usual, and I couldn't stop myself in time.
I slapped him across the face with all my might. Hard.
One thing's for sure, I don't think I've seen Malfoy, Ron, or Harry so shocked in my life. Ron tried to hold me back, and I don't exactly remember what I said. I think I went for my wand at one point. But what shocked me most even with fighting off tears at how arrogantly selfish he really was was the fact he didn't even try to fight back. He just stood there, his face pink with a red print across his left cheek.
He just left with Crabbe and Goyle after that. The rest of us went to class, but thinking back to it, I feel on the fence. On one hand, I'm glad to have finally knocked that smug look off his face for good, and at least he may have gained a bit of sense not to ever talk about Hagrid like that.
On the other hand…I feel like the smallest part of me feels a little bit bad. It wasn't an easy slap, and even for everything he's done, violence certainly isn't the answer to every problem. It may have been his stupid smirk, or it was just the fact that it was Malfoy who had insulted Hagrid, but I felt something snap. And how did that end? A slap.
It certainly gave him a brief understanding that Hermione Granger is not someone he can simply push around. I at least know he's smart enough to understand that.
Until the next time,
Hermione J. Granger
1994 - March 31
I've had to tell everyone Goyle swung his hand too far back when he went in to give someone a good beat down. That, or I could go with it was just someone's elbow that flew back and didn't see me coming. I've got a few ideas, and they're all far from the truth.
She slapped me today.
With no hesitation, I saw it in her eyes. Something must have snapped when I told her and the two others that follow her for homework like lost puppies that our blubbering oaf of a professor was really so upset about some stupid chicken he showed us one day. I hadn't even seen it coming. I won't lie: it hurt like hell.
Granger swung her hand and gave my cheek a good mark. I had nothing to say, Crabbe and Goyle were absolutely shocked, and Potter and Weasley were gobsmacked. She was the only one who looked absolutely livid. Granger pulled her wand out, too, and after what she showed me she could do without a wand, I hate to admit it, but for the time being, I think I'll pass on being on the receiving end of her wand.
Granger slapped me. I don't take those things lightly. I had nothing to say then, and I didn't let either blockhead say a word when we finished out on our classes today. Pansy kept trying to poke and prod as to why there was almost a growing welt on my cheek, but I brushed her off as usual. The girl can't seem to take a hint, so I gave her one. I'll say something later, maybe pass it on through Greengrass or something like that. Either way, besides Crabbe and Goyle, and this pathetic thing I'm still writing in, not a single soul will ever find out about this. Even if Potter and Weasley have told half of the rest of those bloody Gryffindors already.
I'm not going to Madame Pomfrey either. I'm not going to explain how the one and only Hermione bloody Granger slapped me. Even if her detention is worth it, word might get back home. I'll never live it down, that's for sure.
Granger knows how to pack some power in a punch. I hate that about her, too.
Signed,
Draco M.
December 26th, 1994
Dear Diary,
It's past midnight already, so I suppose Christmas is already over. It didn't feel much like Christmas, though. I thought everything was going to work out. Viktor seemed so sweet the entire time, and he asked me to dance for nearly every song. The lights and the decorations were astounding, and everything felt wonderful.
Harry and Ron were apparently less enthusiastic. And from what just went down a few hours ago, I'm not sure if Ron and I are currently on speaking terms. I don't even know what the issue was. I don't know why he was upset. I don't know why he didn't even pay attention to his date and was apparently set on making mine miserable.
I'm almost ashamed to admit this while holding back tears. I know Mum would tell me to keep my chin up, or she'd say something along the lines that Ron's just being a boy at his age, maybe jealous at seeing his best friend swept off her feet. I honestly don't care what he was feeling, he could have at least had the decency to take the fight elsewhere. I lost my temper at him and the two of us fought just on the staircase. I feel a bit bad now, knowing I yelled at Harry too when he didn't do much wrong to begin with.
But Ron was being a prat. He's suddenly so cold and distant from Viktor, and I just don't get it. He had plenty of chances to ask me if he would have liked, and instead he insists that he barely even sees me as a girl, let alone and Merlin forbade someone he would consider asking on a date. But no, apparently Hermione Granger is the one to resort to as a last and final resort. The bushy-haired Gryffindor is not one to get asked on dates. She's supposed to spend all of her time in the library, having no social life and trailing behind Ron and Harry. And when she finally lets herself go for an evening, he gets mad she went with someone who didn't consider her a last resort. Who respected her as a date to a dance would, and not as some jealous friend who completely ignores his own date only to sulk through the evening when he had the opportunity to ask. All Ron had to do was ask.
I would have said yes.
At least some of the other couples managed through the evening. I noticed Cedric and Cho seemed to have a wonderful time, and the Ravenclaw that had accompanied Fluer seemed more than willing to stare and ogle her for the entire night. Even Pansy Parkinson had clung onto Malfoy's arm like her life depended on it. I have to admit, her dress was quite honestly…interesting, to say the least. If it were any other person, I would almost feel sorry for Malfoy by the way she was clinging to him like a leech. Malfoy was his usual self throughout the remainder of the night, though I did find it odd that he didn't say anything to Ron or Harry, or myself for that matter.
I can't say I'm complaining. The less I have to hear of Malfoy, the better. Even if he does manage to get another word out, I'm sure he wouldn't mind having another class with Professor Moody. Maybe I could even study up on the spell that turned him into a ferret. Just an idea.
Sincerely yours,
Hermione J. Granger
1994 - December 26
Whoever started the saying "dancing the night away" is or was an idiot. The new dress shoes Mother had sent me are scuffed at the ends now by how many times Pansy stepped on me. She just giggled the whole time and apologized, trying to get closer every time we danced. I swear, I think I have bruise marks on my arms now. She hung on like a leech the whole night.
I can't say I loved the ball. It was just like any other dance Mother has made me attend, and the decorations were mediocre at best. The winter feel wasn't a bad touch, but honestly, I don't know how much more sense Crabbe and Goyle can fit into their heads. They showed up looking like green boulders to put it lightly. Zabini had a blonde from Ravenclaw I think, and Nott somehow managed to snap up a Beauxbatons girl. From what I saw the two seemed to have a decent time; Zabini more so. I'm sure those two ran off to an empty corridor somewhere.
Of course, there had to be a dance for the champions. Diggory wasn't bad and the other two were decent, but Potter. Ha! I think a plank of wood enchanted to dance would have done better than him. He looked stiff as a board and nearly tripped over Patil's dress on every spin he took her on. It was honestly hilarious to see the look she gave him every time he stepped on her feet.
All the rest of the champions had dates, but it was Krum that shocked even Pansy. The famous quidditch player, who apparently now can't see an inch in front of his nose, brought the one and only. He stared at her the whole time the two walked by, and Nott claims he might have even seen him drool. I almost hexed him when he said he couldn't blame him. The last thing to ever describe her as would be the word "pretty".
But if she uses a bit of Sleekeasy's, and styles her hair back, with an average dress that probably barely cost her anything…
Granger doesn't look bad. I'd call it average at best.
Pansy gawked at her the whole time she passed. Granger didn't even spare her a glance, and for that I was thankful. If she had done anything to remotely spur Pansy on, I'd honestly still be stuck with her on the dance floor, or I'd be washing my mouth out with soap.
I didn't say anything either, though I wish I had. Her hair finally calmed down from the bee's nest it usually is, but it didn't fix it from still being big and bushy. She easily could have picked a different color dress, periwinkle was fine but a dirty brown would have suited it just as well. If she had come down with a book in her hand, I wouldn't have been surprised.
She and Krum seemed to have a decent time the few times she passed by our table. Things got a bit out of hand when Weasley managed to open his fat mouth like usual; speaking of which, I wasn't sure if Weasley knew it was supposed to be a ball and not a trip back to the Middle-Ages. The last thing I heard before she finally lost it at him was that he should have asked her when he had the chance.
Seems right that Weasley was too much of a bloody coward to work up the guts to ask the only girl he can probably talk to. What he did to ask the Delacour girl out got around quick, and I would pay 1,000 galleons just to have seen it in person. But he missed out on Granger. I was surprised that anyone asked her in the first place. Seems Krum doesn't have as much taste as I thought he did.
If he settles for Granger, he'll have to keep looking. A bookish know-it-all is the last thing someone needs.
And I'll say it again just for the sake of saying it: Granger looked average tonight, but her bushy-brained hair had bulked up again by the end of the night. She could have done a lot better, I'll add that too.
But for a Hogwarts ball, she didn't do awful.
Periwinkle isn't the most disgusting color on her at least.
Signed,
Draco M.
June 21st, 1996
Dear Diary,
Things are finally starting to heal up. Madame Pomfrey has been a spectacular help with my wounds, and she says we'll be released from the Hospital Wing tomorrow. Ron's doing just fine, though he seems eager to get up and move again. I can't blame him, with everything that's happened lately, I, too, am eager to get around again.
Harry, Neville, Ginny, and Luna all stopped by this afternoon, and we all gathered around Sunday's copy of The Daily Prophet Madame Pomfrey was kind enough for us to borrow. It was chilling to read it, but I was relieved to see it printed for all the world to see at the same time. The Ministry of Magic has finally given word that it's official, and the second wizarding war has begun.
Despite hearing that the Ministry is finally taking the word that Harry and Dumbledore have been spreading all along, and the news that Professor McGongall has finally returned, I can't help but feel a growing ounce of worry.
Things I never going to be the same. They haven't been since the moment Harry returned from the Tournament last year with Cedric's body and the claim that Voldemort is back once again. It seemed real then, but it suddenly feels like a slap to the face now. This isn't a game. It never was, or ever has been. What we learned this year with Harry's help is not something we were practicing for the sake of ignoring the rubbish Umbridge was teaching us to begin with.
The fight has begun, and I'm worried to think what might be next for the rest of us. Especially Harry. Things are only going to get harder from here. I don't have to guess to know that this is going to be the time where people begin choosing sides.
One might be right, and the other may just be easy. The battle has already started, and the war is far from over. And that's what frightens me most of all.
To be continued from home soon,
Hermione J. Granger
1996 - June 21
I'll get Potter if it's one of the last things I do.
He's going to pay, and I'll be the one to make him. For what he's done to Father. It's ridiculous. It's stupid. And it's all Potter's fault. He thinks he's such a big man, walking the halls like he owns the place after landing Father in prison.
Potter won't be around here much longer if I have anything to do about it. Even if the dementors have already left Azkaban, Father will be out soon enough. That doesn't mean Potter won't pay for landing him there in the first place.
It's Potter. It's always Potter. And the Weaselbee. And Granger. The high and mighty "Golden Trio". One's The-Boy-Who-Won't-Die-Or-Shut-His-Mouth. The other's a scrawny Weasel dumber than a flobberworm. And Granger just can't keep anything to herself and has to be the best at anything and everything she can. She won't shut her bloody mouth, her hair looks like a Blast-Ended Skrewt lives in it, and she always, always, has to be the professors' pet. I hate it.
I hate them.
It's always them. They landed Father in prison, but he'll be out soon enough. They'll all pay in the end, and this isn't it for any of them. No, the war is just starting, like the Ministry said.
A word of advice for all of them:
Potter can learn to stuff a cork in it.
Weasley can finally get the sense to bug off.
And Granger…well, I could fill the whole page if I wanted, but I'll settle for the simple truth that she can learn to keep whatever's inside her big, bushy brain there.
This is only the first battle, and the war has just begun.
Signed,
Draco M.
July 1st, 1997
Dear Diary,
It all happened so fast. Time seems to be moving slower by the minute. No one has since left their common rooms, and the castle is oddly quiet. Too quiet.
Usually, students will be going from class to class, or at this time, be sound asleep in bed. No one is, though. Everyone in my dorm is sitting in bed, not knowing what to say or where to even begin the conversation. Gossip and news travels fast through Hogwarts. Everyone talks and hears the whispers from ear to ear. What happens secretly is something that eventually the whole school knows. It isn't a secret any longer, and for some, somewhat including myself, and I wish it was.
Dumbledore is dead.
The mark was removed from over the astronomy tower, but it wasn't a mistake. It wasn't an accident. It was a coordinated attack, and the worst part was that no one seemed to see it coming. The wards were up and protected. The boundaries were all manned. But the Death Eaters still came. By what Harry managed to speak, or more so whisper, I've managed to fit the rest of the pieces together myself.
I noticed it at many points during the year. He had been acting strange, or more so than normal. He didn't sit and eat with the other Slytherins, and at the times that he was with them, it was only ever beside Crabbe and Goyle. He attended classes most of the time, but on occasion he would skip. He had tried sneaking into Slughorn's party, and Snape quickly took him away like it was nothing. But it wasn't nothing.
From the moment Harry had gone to confront him himself, I should have stepped in. or at least suspected something more than what Harry was claiming. But it seemed so outrageous, so impossible that, even for him, I didn't know if I even wanted to believe it.
But Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater. And I don't think by accident.
He smuggled the others into Hogwarts, and practical chaos ensued. He went up to the astronomy tower where the Headmaster and Harry were, and according to Harry, it was meant to be him. Draco was meant to kill Dumbledore. He was meant to shoot the curse that would end it all, and most likely make Voldemort proud. Whatever the reason was for wasn't important. What is is that he didn't do it.
Draco didn't kill Dumbledore.
At the last moment, Harry said, he didn't fire the curse. He didn't speak the horrid words that sent Professor Dumbledore from the top of the astronomy tower. Draco didn't kill Dumbledore, and from what Harry could explain, I don't think he had ever wanted to.
Draco is arrogant. He's selfish, and conniving, and everything I have ever witnessed a Slytherin to be. He thinks he's a cunning, charming boy with anything he could ever dream of. He's snobbish and self-centered is more like it.
But there is something underneath it.
There is a reason he looked ill this year, and why Harry seemed so suspicious. He allowed the Death Eaters in, he took the Mark for himself, and he's everything I've ever known him to be in the past. But he's still just a boy.
And there's a reason he didn't fire the spell. Harry knows it, too. I did ask if he thought he would have done it. But Harry is certain with himself. He had lowered his wand. In the end, it was still Snape. It was apparently always Snape.
A funeral is going to be held in a few days for the Headmaster, and I'll update again as soon as possible. But with the discovery that the locket wasn't the real Horcrux Harry and Dumbledore had been searching for, Harry is going to go and find it on his own. Or so he thinks.
He needs us. I know that for sure. We're going to find the rest, and put an end to this war once and for all. For now, we'll do what we can.
Time has seemed to slow to a stop, but we have to keep going. Dumbledore left this mission, and we won't let it go unfinished.
We can't.
Your truly,
Hermione J. Granger
1997 - July 1
We've returned to the Manor. The job is done.
There's nothing left to say besides that.
The only thing I'm willing to write is that I failed. The Dark Lord will not take this lightly, even if it was Snape who finished the job for me.
I was a coward. I could have fired that spell with no effort. I disarmed Dumbledore and had him at wand point. But the old fool talked. I could tell he was weak, he had nearly sunk to the floor. All I had to do was fire the spell, and it could have been over with. But I couldn't.
I know I will pay.
I know Mother and Father will, too. And it's my fault. I'll request my punishment be worse than theirs. I failed her. All I wanted was to keep her safe. Mother found me the moment we stepped through the gates, and I already knew. I knew how it was going to end.
The Dark Lord will be here any minute. Aunt Bella will be buzzing with excitement.
It's sick.
I saw Potter cast a few spells Snape's way. But he told me to run before I saw the rest. I still hate him, and Weasley, and Granger.
But all I'm saying is that I'm hoping not too many got hurt.
I'm already making more than enough suffer because I was too afraid to finish the job myself.
I don't need to add the fact I let Greyback out on the other students too. I stepped over a few bodies on the way out.
I can't write the rest.
I can't.
Signed,
Draco M.
March 30th, 1998
Dear Diary,
I don't know how much of it I can write on paper, but I'll do my best. It's only been a few hours since we escaped, but at the price that it came with, it seems like I never left at all.
We were taken to Malfoy Manor. Perhaps it would look grand, old, or whatever a Malfoy's estate would look like during the day, or even at the start of Spring. But everything seemed cold. Every room the snatchers drug us through seemed to creep up your spine. Every painting or portrait seemed to follow you, and many sneered down at me at the thought of a Muggle-Born in their home.
But then they brought us to the drawing room. We were forced down at wand-point, when the Malfoy's finally came in. Narcissa didn't look much different from the first time I saw her, only a bit more pale. On the contrary, it appeared that Lucius hadn't eaten in months. I don't think I've ever seen him in such a state where he seemed disheveled. His hair was matted, his eyes sank back, and although he still seemed excited at the idea that three of us were in his home, I could tell he was afraid.
And then there was Draco. When they brought us into the room, I saw it. He knew us from the moment he saw our faces, though he only paid attention to Ron or Harry if he had to glance at one of us. He barely even took his eyes off the floor, but I can't remember a moment that he looked at me. But he knew. I know he did.
They questioned him and asked them to identify us. They brought Draco down to Harry's level from where they had him on his knees, his face puffy from the stinging hex. I was sure we were finished. But I wouldn't be writing this now if we were.
Draco said he didn't know. He was an expert liar, and even though Narcissa confirmed it was me and Ron that were standing in her drawing room, Draco turned his back on us and found the fireplace incredibly interesting. He didn't tell Bellatrix it was Harry.
He knew, though. He knew it was him. And Ron. And me.
But he didn't say it with confidence. I didn't have to look at his face to know.
That was all I can directly remember. They took Ron and Harry down to the cellar when Bellatrix saw the sword of Gryffindor. She was livid. And then it started.
She threw me down to the floor first, and pain like no other took over me. I may have blacked out, and my throat still burns from the screams. I tried to keep it down, but it was nothing like I had ever felt. She questioned me for what it was that we had stolen. Taken from her vault, I think. I hardly remember. I could only think of the pain. Everything was on fire, everything faded in and out of black. At one point, I vaguely remember looking towards the fireplace where I knew Draco was standing, and I can't even recall what I did. Maybe I screamed for him to help, maybe I'm just being delusional.
But she pushed my head to the ground and took her knife. She carved into my skin, the word they all thought of me as.
Mudblood.
Fleur helped clean it as best she could, but the scar will never go away.
The next thing I knew, the chandelier crashed to the floor and someone grabbed me and pulled me away. The rest seemed blurry, and the pull of apparition pulled us out of the Manor. I only remember seeing two things before we vanished.
Dobby was standing in front of us, tall and proud as the Malfoy's looked shocked and Bellatrix was beyond enraged.
The only one who seemed shocked and afraid was Draco.
Even if he were surrounded by his family, I suspect he has become a master of masking his emotions. But it was a raw shock that I saw across his face. And something in his eyes that could only be described as disgusted fear. Maybe for the fact Ron and Harry had escaped with the others with them, or maybe for the werewolf he seemed distant from. Whatever it was, the next thing I knew, Ron was clutching me to him as we landed on the wet sand of a beach.
And Dobby. Brave, brave Dobby.
Bellatrix's knife had met its target, and Harry had clutched the small elf with his last breaths of life. I will forever be indebted to Dobby. For everything he did for us. Harry gave him a proper burial, no magic, and it's still silent around the safe-house he apparated us to.
We have what we need now to move forward with the rest of Dumbledore's mission.
This war has cost us so much already. With recent events, I know now Harry will not stop until it's over. Neither will Ron. Neither will I.
And neither will the rest willing to stand up and fight.
Sincerely from yours truly,
Hermione J. Granger
1998 - March 30
I watched.
I stood there and watched.
She screamed and begged that she didn't know. Aunt Bella didn't care. She smiled with her deranged laugh as Granger lay crying on the floor, pleading for the pain to stop. And what did I do?
I stood there and watched it happen. I couldn't look away. I couldn't step forward.
I felt sick. I had always hated Granger. She was the Muggle-Born witch that beat me at everything she could - academically, of course. She was a friend to Harry Potter, the know-it-all Gryffindor, and the girl I had picked on and bullied for years. So why did I care.
Why do I care?
Because despite her begging and pleading for the pain to go away, and beside the fact that I did nothing to help, for a brief and fleeting moment, she turned to look at me. Almost like she wanted me to help. She didn't say anything, but with tears down her face, choking on her own scream, she didn't have to.
I was a coward. And I did nothing.
I thank every good and grateful spell Merlin ever made when Potter and Weasley showed up. It lasted for about a second. Potter took his wand back, along with my own. I stood on the side as my aunt screamed, jumping out of the way of a fallen chandelier.
The next thing I remember is standing up and facing a familia pair of eyes.
Dobby.
The cowardly elf that had bent to our every whim. He wasn't so cowardly anymore. Dobby had stood in front of Potter and the rest of them, claiming he was a free elf that didn't take orders from his masters anymore. I won't ever admit this to another soul, and I've forbidden my Mother from looking into my things now.
But I'm going to miss that elf.
We pushed and bullied him around, but the second that knife disappeared with them, and the evil cackle that followed from Aunt Bella, I didn't have to wonder why she was so excited. Dobby may have been one of my father's favorite things to beat around, and I'm not excluding myself from that, but he was a brave little thing.
I doubt I'll ever forget it.
Potter, Weasley, Granger, and the rest of them were gone. Aunt Bella had already sent for the Dark Lord, and we were all punished greatly for it. She got the worst of it, but it didn't matter as much to me.
Mother's okay, at least. Father is still managing.
This isn't going to end anytime soon. This war is far from over.
I can't tell if I'm on the winning or losing side of it.
Signed,
Draco M.
May 2nd, 1998
Dear Diary,
It's done.
It's finished.
The battle is over. Voldemort is dead, Harry is alive. I don't know if I've ever felt so broken and relieved. My heart wants to crack into pieces, but a burden and weight feels like its been lifted from my chest.
It's done. It's all over now.
The battle was horrifying. The walls of Hogwarts I doubt will ever be the same. The Death Eaters have fled, and those that did stay behind are mostly dead. But the battle has been won. And the war is finally over.
The Great Hall doesn't seem so great anymore. It's been turned into more of a meeting ground for those that survived. Those that didn't are still hidden beneath blankets and some are just hidden by family members. I've already seen some of them, and it hurts just listing them off.
Lupin.
Tonks.
Colin Creevey.
Lavender Brown.
Snape.
And Fred.
I don't think I will ever recount the reaction of the Weasley's when they saw him among the others lying on cots. There are dozens more, and I don't think I can bear filling these pages with the list of people I will never see or speak to again.
This war cost us so much. So many lives. But I trust that they knew what they were fighting for. They all fought until the very end. That courage will not be forgotten, and at least in my own mind, I will not let it.
Now that the sun has risen again, I haven't found Harry yet. He's been wandering under the cloak, and I'm sure I'll bump into him again soon. Ron is reacquainting with his family, and I figured it would be best to give them some time. Their loss isn't one that will be over and done with in a day. In fact, I doubt the Weasley's will ever be completely whole again.
I've seen other families dotted around the Hall. Many seem to be talking quietly amongst themselves, but now that I look around, there is one in the far corner I've just noticed.
The Malfoys are huddled together. Contrary to what they may have tried to do in past years, they seem to be trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. No one seems to be paying them any attention, and I'm sure they don't mind it. Before Harry wandered off, I was able to get a quick few words in with him, and he told me what he could about his venture into the forest to face Voldemort again.
Now that I think about it, it seems that Harry was saved by a mother's love. This time, more than once.
I've never thought of the Malfoys to be one for affection, but Lucius hasn't taken his eyes off of his wife since they reconciled. Narcissa hasn't let go of Draco's arm even if he is focused on jotting something down in what appears to be his own journal. Seems I'm not the only one with a bit of a habit.
They are still a family, even with a few flaws. Flaws do not entirely define a person. I think instead someone can learn through themselves how to overcome said flaw, or how to accept it.
This war divided the wizarding world at times more than ever. All the same, I think it may have brought a few unexpected allies together. In the end, the fight was won and the battle put to rest.
This being the last page in my diary, I'll plan on starting another one soon.
Thank you for helping me through a few rough nights. Sometimes, the words we want to say are all the ones left unspoken. I suppose it helps when those can be written all the same.
Seven years of my life have been jotted down in these pages. I suppose it may be time to go and start another story.
Sincerely and from yours truly,
Hermione J. Granger
1998 - May 2
What's done is done, and the war is finally over.
I honestly don't care if the side I went to was the one that lost in the end. Whether I stayed beside the Golden Boy or had joined my parents like I did, I thank Merlin he's gone. At this point, I think that's all I deserve to ask for.
Mother and Father found me again, and we made our way back to the Great Hall. I'm honestly grateful no one even bothers to look at us. A few years ago, I may have been insulted at the idea. Flipping through a few of these last pages, I know I'm not wrong. I was an absolute prick.
This war has taught me a lot. A lot that I will never forget, and things I wish I wouldn't have to remember.
All the same, it's over. Potter is yet again our saving grace, but I don't care if he has all the fame and glory right now. He can keep it.
Coming into the Great Hall, I managed to glance at a few faces. There are too many covered with white blankets, and it makes me feel sick. But one stood out to me.
One of the Weasley twins. Fred, I believe. He still had the ghost of a smile on his face. It wasn't hard to find the family of red-heads. I've seen them happy on the platform for the train to Hogwarts, I've seen them furious at words from my father, and I've seen them at their bravest moments. I don't think I've ever seen any family so broken and missing such a large piece. I can't write anymore about it, or I might be sick to begin with.
There are too many familiar faces still uncovered. I recognize my old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Lupin. Along with him is my supposed cousin. His wife, I learned, Nymphadora. Her mother was my aunt Andromeda, but Mother can't bring herself to talk about her. I'm not going to press my luck and try to push it.
Sitting here now, I've managed to glance up at a few faces still talking quietly and breathing at least. One head of familiar bushy hair is still stuck in a book. A journal or diary, I think. Of course Granger is the one to have her own book with her about every wild adventure she's run on with Potter. From what I can tell, she's on one of her last pages. Seems she's had the same habit since first year, too.
Since the fight has stopped, I've been wondering what comes next. The war has certainly given me a few opportunities to think, and looking back through some of these pages, I may have needed to do just that.
Malfoys don't apologize. Even I can admit that we're too proud to do that. A knowing flaw, I believe some would refer to it as.
But there are some amends that a simple apology I don't think will be able to fix.
I'm not even sure how I would start it. Maybe a letter would be better. It's hard to find the words you want to say when so much can go left unspoken.
I'm sure I'll find a way to manage. I can't fit much more on the rest of this page, so I'll leave it at this. Seven years of my life have passed by in these pages. I suppose it's time to find some other pages to fill.
Signed,
Draco M.
Hello my fellow fanfic readers!
Oh my gosh, has it been a while! For those that keep up with some of my works, I sincerely apologize for the lack of updates on some of my stories that may be incomplete, such as Phoenix and Foes. My life feels like it's been a whirlwind with my school work and current sports. One of my seasons are about to come to an end, so I think I will be able to have some more available time and get to work on those. For the time being, however, I hope you guys enjoyed this small one-shot I put together that came off the top of my head.
I may continue this for another chapter since I kind of left the ending a little bit open, and if I do continue it, it will probably only be just another short chapter to wrap this one up. But for the time being, I hope you guys enjoyed.
And, always, to all you lovely readers and Potterheads out there, I hope you have a marvelous morning, afternoon, evening, or night!
-Summerwinds :)