Disclaimer: the characters, plot, and the wonderful world of wizarding England all belong to the unsurpassed J.K. Rowling. The thoughts, they are mine.
Filmstrips
I guess its true, then, what people say. People in the muggle world, at least. They say that just before you die your life flashes before your eyes. I never believed them, of course, logic being what it is. How would they know if dying people picture scenes from their lives like others watch old slides to take up rainy afternoons, having not died themselves? But now, lying here on the age worn stones of Hogwarts while a battle rages around me, I can believe in what they say. I feel I must be dying, and the images swirling around in my head form the tableau of the life that is mine. It's ironic, really. Who would have thought that Hermione Granger, Hogwarts' Head Girl, one of the cleverest witches ever to darken the castle's threshold, would be undone by a simple falling pillar?
We were all eating breakfast in the Great Hall when it started. The house elves had outdone themselves as usual (I have become resigned to their presence and function at Hogwarts, although when the opportunity still presents itself I valiantly crusade for their rights) and every imaginable breakfast food was laid out in sumptuous steaming heaps on the table. Harry and Ron had overslept, and they were rubbing the sleep out of their eyes with one hand while stabbing their forks into sausages with another. I let the absolute depravity of this typical behavior slide with my requisite eye roll and harrumph. There was no reason to think that the powerful magic protecting Hogwarts and its students, most importantly Harry, was being breached as we drank our orange juice under a ceiling that reflected a clear blue sky, cloudless in nature. In retrospect, it was a bit unusual that only one of the Professors was present, Trelawney, I think it was. I didn't notice it then, I was too busy trying to remember whether or not I'd fed Crookshanks his vitamin (which the veterinarian I'd taken him to over Christmas Holidays seemed to think he needed to retain an "overall sheen of health". Honestly, Crookshanks is the healthiest, albeit most contrary, cat I know, but my mother still insisted on a visit.) The first notion I had that something was not as it should be was when I felt a presence behind me. I turned to find that that presence belonged to none other than one Severus Snape, Potions Professor Extraordinaire and Master Spy. Harry and Ron stopped mid-shovel, bits of sausage and egg hanging from their open mouths. Snape was his usual self, he didn't quibble with pleasantries.
"Potter, Weasley, acquaint yourselves with napkins and follow me. Miss Granger, your presence is requested as well." Harry and Ron looked agog at the mention of napkins but complied, stuffing them in their pockets as we followed Snape and the Prefects out of the Great Hall. I wasn't sure if the confusion in their expressions came from curiosity as mine most certainly did, or as to why Snape would wish them to make friends with a napkin. I took it as the latter, and whispered sideways to Ron.
"You've both got egg and sausage all over your faces, you pigs. That's what Snape meant by napkins, honestly." Ron had the grace to look embarrassed, and he quickly nudged Harry in the ribs. As the rest of us were trailing Snape's rapid strides in silence, Harry's muffled "hey! What the bloody hell was that?" echoed quite loudly in the corridor, earning him a glare from Snape and looks of curiosity from our fellow classmates. Ron was mopping his face with his napkin quite vigorously, and Harry followed suit as we swept into the corridor where the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office stood as a silent sentinel. As Snape uttered the password, Ron and Harry finished their ablutions and made to tuck their napkins into their pockets as I straightened the hem of my robes and brushed a few stray crumbs from my front. As I knew that left to their own devices they probably wouldn't bother brushing off their own robes, I whispered a hint to Harry and left he and Ron on their own to catch what Snape had been saying to the Prefects.
"There is somewhat of a situation at hand. The headmaster wishes to speak with you and requires your utmost cooperation in this very serious matter. No questions will be asked, you will merely follow the directions you will be given and be done with it. I would assume without having to say that nothing that you hear here this morning leaves your mouth except that which you have been authorized to disclose."
With a glare that stopped all attempts at queries as to what exactly was going on, Snape turned on his heel and swept up the stairs leading to Dumbledore's inner sanctum. The room was filled with wizards and witches, some familiar, some not, but all with their heads bent in hushed conversation. The Professors (McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Sinistra, and Vector, among others) were huddled around one of Dumbledore's bookcases, worried expressions creasing their brows. In another corner I recognized Mr. Weasley and Percy, conferring with Mad-Eye Moody and Mundungus Fletcher. Arabella Figg was speaking with Remus and Sirius, who was long ago pardoned when it became clear that he was needed to help fight against the Dark Arts, and a few other Ministry wizards who had been covered with streaky coal dust through their floo voyages. The lot of us students were standing in the middle of the room, eyes wide at the gathering of power in front of us, confusion furrowing our brows. Sirius was the first to consciously note our presence, alerted by the draft caused by the swish of Snape's robes as he swept past him on his way to join the rest of Hogwarts' staff by one of the numerous and precariously laden bookcases that lined the walls of Dumbledore's office. He started towards us, and his question rose above the buzz of the background conversation to reach our ears and startle us out of our momentary confusion.
"Harry, alright there, are you? Have you been getting my owls?" He reached us slowly, skirting around the clusters of people in the office. He searched Harry's face first, before turning to greet Ron and I. We all knew what he was looking for, Harry most of all. Having learned his lesson the hard way, Harry now told Dumbledore, Sirius, or Lupin whenever his scar so much as twitched. He had mentioned no pain at all to me, or Ron for that matter, in months. Voldemort's followers had been particularly active in the London area recently, and that was far from Hogwarts. Which is why this sudden meeting was so much more confusing. There had been no inkling whatsoever of a planned attack on the school, and as Head Girl, I would have been informed if there was a threat, unless it was sudden. The more I thought about it, I figured that the only event that could assemble this number of powerful aurors and officials together would be an imminent attack. From the atmosphere pervading the room, I thought that my deduction could not be far from truth. Harry and Ron were rapidly coming to the same conclusions themselves, judging from the looks on their faces. Harry's face was very pale, and Ron had gone white under his freckles. The realization was also dawning on the assembled Prefects behind us. Sirius clapped Ron and Harry on the backs, patted my shoulder and returned to his conversation with Arabella after his greetings to us, leaving us to our own whispered musings. We quickly determined that our opinions were indeed the same. Just as we had begun speculating on just exactly how Death Eaters would attempt to penetrate Hogwarts' defenses, McGonagall beckoned to us to follow her into an adjoining room, through a doorway that I had never noticed on any of my previous visits to Dumbledore's office. The room had a number of chairs in it, and we all took a seat as we waited for McGonagall to enlighten us as to the reason of our presence during what was obviously a meeting of the minds between the key fighters of the good side. She looked at each of us before she started, her gaze seemingly penetrating each of us to the core. She concentrated especially on Harry, Ron, and I. Harry and Draco Malfoy were the only students in the room who were not either prefects or the Headboy, but they were the only two students at Hogwarts working directly with the Order of the Phoenix. Ron and I also worked with the order, but much less so than Harry and Draco. Dean Thomas and Parvati Patil were the Gryffindor Prefects, while Padma Patil and Terry Boot were the Prefects for Ravenclaw. Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbott rounded out Hufflepuff's contribution to the meeting, while Blaise Zabini and Tracey Davis were Slytherin's repesentatives. To his utter surprise, (and utmost delight) Ron was given the title of Head Boy, both for his high marks and for the skill that he demonstrated of catching students at mischief before they were able to incur any damage to Gryffindor's point status. (A skill he managed to hone because of his experience at rule breaking, however) McGonagall cleared her throat and began to speak in a calm, measured tone, as we sat up with sudden alertness in our chairs, hanging onto every word.
"You have been summoned here this morning because we have solid evidence that points to an imminent attack upon Hogwarts by followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. As prefects, your responsibilities lie with securing the students in their towers and making sure they are safe. When you return to the Great Hall you will lead your charges to their dormitories and seal the entrances. Under no circumstances are students under the fourth year allowed out of the towers unless they are instructed to leave by a prefect, professor, or ministry official. This scenario is highly unlikely, however we must plan for all eventualities. If the event does occur, the students are to exit the towers and make their way across the moors in pairs or threesomes. This way they will be less likely to be detected than if they were in a large group. They are to keep walking until they feel they can no longer go on or as soon as they find shelter, provided the shelter is far from the castle. They will be owled as soon as it is safe for them to return to the castle. Food will also be provided by owl and they are to be assured that they will be recovered. Again, this plan is only to be used as a contingency. What is expected is an attack designed to demonstrate to us that we are no longer safe anywhere. It is not thought that Voldemort himself will be present during the attack, just his lackeys. There is nothing we can do to stop this attack except fight it with all we can if Voldemort has indeed figured out how to breach Hogwarts' defenses. Potter, since we know for fact that Voldemort is not going to be present it is thought that the deatheaters will attempt to kidnap you and take you to Voldemort's side. We are not going to allow this to happen, therefore, the Fidelius charm will be performed with Sirius as your secret keeper and you will be removed to a safe location. Granger, Weasley, you will stay here. The deatheaters will expect that wherever you two are, Harry will be close by. By staying where you are you will be helping to protect him more than if you were with him. Malfoy, because of the likelihood that your father will be among those of the attackers, you are to accompany Mr. Potter to the safe location. We do not want your father to be able to come into contact with you because if he did, you most likely wouldn't see the light of day again. The rest of you are to return to your houses and inform the students of what is going on. You are to give any student that is of the fifth year or above the opportunity to volunteer to guard the entrance to your tower and the corridors leading up to it. In the eventuality that the aurors that are forming the front line of defense are overrun those guarding the towers could possibly be thrust into a situation where they would have to duel a full-grown wizard proficient in the Dark Arts. This should be made clear to all volunteers. All except Potter, Weasley, Granger, and Malfoy are excused. As soon as you have taken care of your assignments you are to appoint someone to act in your stead as a prefect of your house and return here with all those who volunteer to patrol the corridors. Is that perfectly clear?"
A murmured assent was all McGonagall needed. She nodded curtly and the Prefects rose to perform their duties, leaving the three of us and Malfoy alone with McGonagall. Malfoy had, to the surprise of all, turned from the Dark Side under the influence of Snape after his father had murdered his mother when she tried to prevent him from taking Draco to Voldemort. Narcissa was the only person who Draco had ever cared for, and was, in turn, the only person who displayed any affection for Draco. She had tried to counterbalance his father's negative influence on her son by instilling into him values that had never affected him until he saw his mother writhing in pain from the crucio curse and heard his father's dry voice, void of any emotion, utter "Avada Kedavra". An uneasy camaraderie existed between Draco and Harry, as they had learned to work together under the direction of the Order. McGonagall looked at the four of us, and motioned to Sirius, who had been listening to her diatribe from the open doorway. He came into the room, noting, I'm sure, the paleness of our faces and the tension in our shoulders.
"You understand why we're doing this, don't you?" With this comment Sirius was addressing the murderous looks on the faces of Harry and Malfoy, who didn't want to lose the chance to strike back at the very people who had killed those so dear to them, and the looks of fury directed towards him from Ron and myself, that he would dare to suggest that we be separated from our best friend and our grudgingly acknowledged ally. With the advent of his question, Sirius received more scowls, but a disinclined acceptance of the viability of the battle plan that had been presented to us. Harry was the first to reply.
" I may understand, but I still don't like it. I should stay and fight. Its my fault all these people are in danger, my fault that, well, everything is my fault, really, and you're telling me to go stick my head in the sand like an ostrich and ignore the danger that you and everyone else is going to be in and know that there is absolutely nothing I can do to help defend my school, my classmates, my friends, and myself. Bloody hell, Sirius, when? When am going to be allowed to face him again? I've defeated him before, I can do it again. It has to happen eventually, Sirius, you know. Why not let me face him now instead of later instead of letting everyone continually suffer?" Dumbledore's voice answered Harry's query like he had done many times before, when things got too overwhelming for Harry, when his responsibilities became too crushing.
"This isn't the right moment, Harry, but all in good time, I assure you. Now if we could perform the charms on you and Mr.Malfoy?"
Sirius hurried to Dumbledore's side, and reluctantly Malfoy and Harry followed. Ron and I hurried to say our goodbyes. Harry and I hugged, and then he and Ron clapped each other's backs (I'm convinced it's a male ritual, that must be performed unfailingly or else some terrible curse would be evoked, as back clapping is frequently the mode of saying hello and goodbye, to which I say, whatever happened to handshakes?) I offered my hand to Malfoy, and he took it, saying,
"Be careful out there, Granger. And not to demonstrate that I believe in silly superstitions, but good luck, Godspeed, whatever else muggles say when wishing someone well."
With a wry grin creasing his features and a last look at my startled expression with his icy gray eyes, he turned and offered his hand to Ron, who grasped it quickly before they vanished into the next room to perform the charm, leaving Ron and I with a somewhat shaken McGonagall. The professor had gotten distinctly teary eyed during Harry's proclamation, and for a minute there I had thought the tears would start spilling down her cheeks. McGonagall regained control, however, to shoo Ron and I out into the main office, where we were to join the gathering and await the arrival of the Prefects and their volunteers. To our surprise, Mr. Weasley and Percy had been joined in our absence by Bill, who we learned in quick stead had been brought from Egypt to help cast charms instead of break them. The polite conversation that kept the room abuzz was underscored by an undercurrent of tension that ran on a circuit through the room, erupting into loud disagreements every other minute or two. When Dumbledore emerged alone from the room in which he had been performing the Fidelius charm, his appearance was heralded by the sudden hush that swept the assembled personage. At the same time, a clatter on the stairs indicated that the Prefects and their volunteers had arrived. The expressions on the Weasley men's faces as a shining copper head bobbed into view behind Dean Thomas's tall, lean form were absolutely unforgettable. Mr. Weasley's features were frozen into a look of utter terror, stemming from fear that his daughter would be harmed as well as from fear of the punishment he knew would be waiting at home if Mrs. Weasley ever found out that he had let her precious only daughter and youngest child volunteer to help patrol against death eaters. He knew, of course, that Ginny was a perfectly capable, even brilliant witch at the top of her class, and that she could do more than enough to help, so I believe that it was fear of Mrs. Weasley's reaction to Ginny's participation in the fight that was transforming his features into a fearful mask. Ron's reaction was one of incredulous shock, more along the lines of "my little sister? She's just a baby, what in the world is she doing here?" As I had pointed out on numerous occasions, Ginny was almost seventeen years old, but in Ron's eyes she would forever be "little Ginny." Percy looked like he was alternating between an imminent apoplexy and deciding whether or not to open his mouth and order Ginny back to Gryffindor tower. Ginny is intelligent, though, and when she saw the looks on the faces of her male relations she wisely decided to take refuge behind Dean, figuring that his height would camouflage her presence and enable her to loose herself in the crowd. This strategy might have worked, except for the fact that Ginny's hair shone as brightly as any torch. She was saved by the fact that McGonagall was summoning all the students into the room where she had given her spiel earlier. Ron and I followed, taking seats in the rear of the room. This time around McGonagall's enforcer was Remus, Sirius having left with a very disgruntled pair of seventh years. A goodly amount of fifth, sixth and seventh years had volunteered from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and all of the Gryffindors were present, minus the two left behind to keep order in the tower among the younger students. Slytherins were noticeably absent, as only Blaise and Tracey were present. The professor cleared her throat, as she was about to begin, and repeated the basics of what she had presented earlier, adding only this.
"You will be divided into pairs, each pair taking one end of a different corridor. You will communicate by flashing green sparks if all is clear, and red if there is trouble. If you are at the opposite end of the corridor when red sparks are seen, you are to assist the other pair in attempting to dispatch the intruders. As soon as the Aurors arrive, you are to let them handle the situation and find another group to help patrol. All seventh years will be allowed to form part of the frontline defense team if they so choose. If not they are to help patrol. Slytherin, Hufflepuff, see Professor Snape for your corridor assignments. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, see Mr. Lupin. All seventh years that choose to back up the aurors, see me."
With her characteristic nod, McGonagall left us all to find our ways to our respective instructor. Neville, Lavender, Seamus, Dean, Parvati, and the rest of the seventh years from the other houses joined McGonagall in the corner where she was standing. Her basic instructions were to watch the aurors backs, and if it looked like they were in danger to try and intervene. We were not to engage in duels unless directly challenged, and it was understood that we were to form the last ring of defense before the death eaters would reach the towers and the students. We especially did not want them to reach the towers for fear of what they would do to the numerous muggle born students within them. I hadn't previously given a thought to my own welfare, and the fact that if I was in confrontation with a death eater they were more likely to kill or torture me that any pureblood. It was clear that Ron had though, and he squeezed my hand reassuringly. I squeezed back, to let him know that I knew. We were assigned to the Great Hall, my partner being Neville and Ron's being Lavender. We had been separated for the same reason they had separated us from Harry. Together we were so much more powerful, but we presented too tempting a target. We both knew from what Dumbledore had told us that we were high on Voldemort's kill list, not only for psychological impact that killing The – Boy – Who Lived's best friends would bring, but also for the fact that in our own rights both Ron and I were immensely powerful. So I would be at the doorway that opened onto the hallway leading to the corridor at the end of which Gryffindor Tower's portrait hole was located, and Lavender and Ron were stationed on the opposite side of the Great Hall, guarding the doorway that would eventually lead towards the Ravenclaw tower. Once in place Neville and I had a bird's eye view of the proceedings taking place in the main entrance hall. Mr. Weasley caught my eye and waved, then hurried away to confer with Professor Vector. Neville was leaning against a cool marble column, his eyes closed and his lips moving in silent supplication. I sat down beside him, knowing there was nothing I could say or do to help. My own nerves were stretched to the breaking point, the most I could do for Neville was rub his back soothingly. The fear that was settling in was getting worse with the passage of time and anticipation was building. It had only been fifteen minutes since we'd assumed our positions, yet each second seemed to take an eternity. All of the sudden there was a sudden burst of activity near the entrance to the castle. The word was passed down the line that the death eaters had been able to apparate inside the grounds and that they were now engaged with the aurors on the front lawn. Neville and I stood up, gripping our wands tightly, transfixed on the two double doors and ten aurors that were the only things that stood between Voldemort's henchmen and us. Across the expanse of the great hall Ron's eyes met my own. It was then that the doors crashed open. A ministry wizard stumbled into the hall, shouting,
"Get ready, get ready, get ready…they're coming…to get you…" before he collapsed. Suddenly the Hall was filled with a swish of robes as aurors apparated from their other points in the castle. Neville ran to warn the patrollers that the death eaters had indeed managed to enter the Great Hall, while I took refuge behind the pillar that was decorating the archway. I could see the whoosh of Lavender's robes as she whisked around the corner on the way to warn the Ravenclaws. Ron too was taking shelter behind his archway, eyes panning the hall, taking everything in. The Great Hall was filled with the reflections of light emanating from the wands throwing curses and hexes in the entrance hall. It looked as if the aurors were being pushed back, slowly, and eventually black robed men appeared under my line of vision. It was then that I looked at my watch. That was one muggle amenity I had never given up. Even though there was a rather simple spell that you could cast to get the exact time, I preferred the weight on my wand-arm of the silver plated watch my grandmother had given on my thirteenth birthday. It was simple, unenchanted, and thoroughly muggle, one of the only things I owned that remained so. The simple tick of the second hand was calming and familiar, but it was also a dreadful reminder that time was passing, and that the longer the battle went on, the less likely it was to be a decisive victory. Before I could fathom what had happened, the Great Hall was suddenly filled with dueling wizards. I brought my wand up and was contemplating who to go after and trying to get my bearings when I heard it. A powerful spell deflected off the pillar at my side, leaving a hairline crack behind that steadily widened until the stone began to crumble. I could hear the tick of my watch echo three times. Three seconds. Three interminable seconds in which I had to realize that I was possibly in danger not from a spell or hex, but from the pillar upon which I had previously leaned my head. Three seconds were not enough. I had just heard the fourth second tick by when I whirled to escape the inevitable fall of the pillar. Its funny, really, how I could hear that second hand ticking even with screams and curses being shouted not less than one hundred feet away. I guess now that it was letting me know that this would be the last time I would be able to consciously recognize the passage of time, for I wasn't quick enough to move. The pillar caught me over the shoulder, knocking me to the ground with such a powerful force I lost consciousness immediately. My plunge into the dark tunnels of unconsciousness was marked by one thought. I prayed to the God I had forsaken as a child, as Catholicism condones witchcraft, and witchcraft was the one thing I would not forsake for my belief in God.
"Lord, please don't let me die. I have so much more to do so much more to give…"
A kaleidoscope of colors exploded behind my eyelids and I thought no more. In the depths of my mind I journeyed back to London and into a classroom in which the sounds of the click of slides and the whir of the projector filled the air. Only this time instead of a slide show on Catholic Saints and their Attributed Miracles a different picture was playing. In my subconscious I watched as the first picture appeared, the light of the projector illuminating the dust motes floating in the air. The script scrolling across the blackboard in gold lettering spelled out
"The life of Miss Hermione Granger, in Memoriam"
It was then that I recognized the classroom. It was in the basement of my mother's church, St. John's, in the suburbs of London. Was I dead then, and observing my funeral, or was I dreaming from the depths of oblivion? The room was filled with people, acquaintances of my parents, friends of mine from primary school, and at the front of the classroom, my parents, grandparents, and other family members. My mother was sobbing into a handkerchief, and tears were streaking down the cheeks of my grandmother and aunts. The priest, Father Lawrence was speaking.
"As we gather here together in the name of the Lord, I want you all to picture Hermione and the times you spent with her, and I want you to run these times and feelings through your heads like a filmstrip, and I want you to know that she will always be with you in your memories. Let us sit in silence and reflect in our memories of our beloved sister in Christ." I watched dumbfounded, as all in the room bowed their heads. And as I thought about it, I wondered. What would these people see? None of them knew who I really was. My true friends would be miles away from here, in Hogwarts or Ottery St. Catchpole, perhaps. The people here in this room would see the face I had presented to them during the summer holidays, that of a studious girl home from St. Anne's Catholic School in Surrey, instead of that of one Hermione Granger, Head Girl at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. What had the people that I had known and loved for seven years remember? I know that they would know more than those here in this room, but the essence of me, my thoughts, would be lost. My filmstrips, what would they show? My thoughts wandered, combing through the strands of my memory…
A/N ~ Hope you all enjoyed that, please review and let me know whether or not I should post the next chapter…thanks for reading!
~ flourishes