Legacy
Disclaimer: You know the drill. Everything belong to JK Rowling except one of the spells.
A/N: Like my other HP story, this starts with a visit to Dumbledore. Oh, and this has nothing to do with 'Heir of Slytherin, Heir of Gryffindor' so this is a completely independent story.
Professor Hermione Granger pushed open the door to Dumbledore's office. Small gold trinkets danced and spun on the shelves across from his desk sending shards of light around the room.
"Headmaster?", she called out cautiously. Upon hearing no response she turned to the wall containing hundreds of wizarding pictures that looked back, smiling and waving.
As she approached, the wall itself seemed to grow bigger until it was almost a room in and of itself. The pictures themselves were of the 1-7th year of all the classes that Dumbledore had been Headmaster over.
Unwillingly her gaze traveled to her own row and fell upon her own 6th year of Hogwarts where she and her best friends Harry and Ron smiled and waved back at her. They were yelling "Only one more year to go!" in merciless silence. On Ron's robes was a small pin which Fred and George had made for him that read: I Survived my NEWTs test and all I got was this crummy pin!
Hermione grinned sadly and looked to her final year of Hogwarts. The group looked smaller and indeed it was. Professor McGonagall was missing from behind the Gryffindors as was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Mr. Spetro. Among the ranks of the students were 3 spaces that had been occupied in the previous picture but were now just gaping holes.
Hermione's hand flew to her mouth, stifling the sobs that still came, even after all these years, when she looked at places where the missing students should have occupied.
The first hole belonged to Harry Potter, killed in a final battle by the most evil wizard of all, Lord Voldemort. He had taken his opponent down with him but died minutes later from his wounds in Hermione's arms.
The owner of the next empty seat was Draco Malfoy. Twisted beyond repair by Voldemort he had come only a few days after the Voldemort had perished, sauntering up to Hermione announcing, wearing a grin that was almost a grimace, that though the Dark Lord was dead mud-bloods and muggle-lovers would still pay.
An Ron had been the first to die at Draco's hands. What happened next was only a blur in Hermione's memory, white fire had streaked through the air and the next minute Draco was dead, the terrible grimace still locked on his face.
Hermione was sobbing openly now when she felt a bony hand lay itself on her shoulder. "It still hurts," she murmured.
"Yes, I know," whispered Dumbledore.
"Oh, Albus!" she cried, "The most horrible thing is that in a few years no one will remember them like I do! Nobody will consider them human beings, just heroes and casualties in a war that's importance will diminish with time!" her shoulders slumped. "If only there was a way..."
"Do you truly wish all the world, even muggles to know the story of Harry Potter?" asked Dumbledore, one stark white eyebrow raised.
"Of course," she said, " But I can't remember all the details, and you know I'm a horrible writer!"
Dumbledore began to explain how it was possible, Hermione's eyes grew wider with every word. A few minutes later, Hermione left Dumbledore's office with a small piece of paper and a determined look on her face. She headed towards the Quidditch field, her cloak flapping in the wind, like a wicked witch going to the Grand Sabbat.
She roughly grabbed a broom. Though she was not an expert flyer she had gotten over her uneasiness and in minutes she was off, flying towards the capital of Scotland, hours south of Hogwarts.
Hermione floated silently over the city of Edinburgh. In the flat below her lived a single woman, already a write and considering a story about a wizard. From her pocket, Hermione pulled out the scrunched up piece of paper that Dumbledore had given her and flourished her wand.
"Vitas! Scrites! Pensieve!" she screamed into the wind and watched in wonder as silver dust fell from her wand, oblivious to the wind, and down through a crack in the window just below her. She flew down alongside it in time to see it fall on a sleeping woman's head and vanish.
Hermione nodded in satisfaction and for the first time in years felt truly happy and she headed back to Hogwarts.
Joanne Rowling made her way down to the small kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, she stared blearily at the clock and saw that it was 4:30 am. With a sleepy mutter she walked back to her chair, cradling the steaming cup but caught sight of her notebook out of the corner of her eye.
She slowly set down the cup and walked hypnotically towards the notebook, grabbed a pen and began to write feverishly in a sudden burst of inspiration. She stared at the first page she had written, tore it up and grabbed another sheet.
No she thought I have to start from the beginning
Hours later she looked down in satisfaction at the first chapter of her book. The opening read:
Mr. and Mrs. Dursely, of number four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much...The Beginning
A/N: Not bad for a first fic, if I do say so myself 4 years later. Please review
For in-depth information on future fics and updates delete the spaces from the link below or you can find it on my author page.
http: games. groups. yahoo. com/ group/ Avelerafantasy /