Chapter 1

            Pushing open the tall, silver gates and stepping through onto the grass, Hermione gazed solemnly at the grassy hillside that stretched in front of her. The late

afternoon sky was a dreary green-gray and the sun was almost completely hidden by the clouds, casting a dismal shadow over the entire meadow. The brisk wind blew a thick strand of Hermione's hair over her face, obscuring her vision and involuntarily causing her to drop her bag and push her hair back irritably. Though still thick and curly as ever, a year and a half ago she had cut it so that the ends rested lightly on her shoulders. This did not keep it from getting in her face constantly, but it was better than the waist length mass of curls she had sported throughout most of her adolescence.  She remembered sitting in the Quidditch stands, hair flying all over the place, shivering despite her thick cloak and scarf, not to mention Ron's arm tucked snugly around her waist…

Her chin quivered almost imperceptibly. She steadied it and picked up her bag, walking resolutely up the path. It was no use getting maudlin, especially at a time like this. She had a job to do, she reminded herself, and was damned lucky to have it, when so many nowadays were starving in the gutters.

Almost ten years after the graduation of Harry Potter, Voldemort still played a prominent role in the wizarding world. His influence had grown over the years, climbing steadily towards the inevitable confrontation between the forces of Dark and Light. Many of his Death Eaters occupied positions of power within the increasingly corrupt Ministry of Magic, leading to the issuance of a profusion of new laws discriminating against Muggle-Borns and pure blooded families who supported them.

Like the Weasley's, Hermione thought bitterly. With the sudden infusion of Death Eaters into the Ministry, Arthur Weasley had promptly been fired from his job in the Department of the Misuse of Magical Artifacts. All the Weasley children had graduated by then, so Molly and Arthur had sold the Burrow and moved in with Charlie, who had lost a leg in Romania trying to take down a dragon and had been forced to return to England and live off his limited savings. The situation was a strain on the whole family. All the children chipped in, but with the new laws it was difficult for any Weasley to get a good job, let alone make enough money to support both themselves and their aging parents.

Hermione glanced guiltily at the small diamond engagement ring that adorned her left hand. Ron really hadn't been able to afford this, what with his small salary working as a clerk at Fred and George's failing joke shop, but he had insisted on doing things properly, despite everything that was happing around them.

Hermione finally reached the top of the hill. Slightly out of breath, she set her bag down and took in the familiar sight before her.

Hogwarts.

Center of magical erudition, safe haven for saints and sinners alike, and, lately, a fortress, protecting all of its habitants from the evils that went on in the outside world.

Hermione gazed in renewed wonder at the picturesque scene. The castle, with its majestic detailing and heaven-bound towers, looked like something out of a fairy tale. It never ceased to take her breath away, and she fought off a new wave of emotion brought on by all the memories associated with this place.

Setting her trembling jaw, she once again picked up her bag and headed toward the main entrance of the castle. She looked at Hagrid's hut. It sat dark and abandoned, no longer cheerfully pouring smoke from its chimney. She looked away.

She reached the enormous front entrance, and was about to knock when the door swung open and she was suddenly face to face with her old teacher and mentor, Minerva McGonagall.

"Hermione, my dear," she said fondly, and drew her into an affectionate embrace. She stepped back to look at Hermione.

"You look well," she finally pronounced, with a small, sad smile.

"As well as one can look, I suppose, under the circumstances," Hermione replied quietly. The same could definitely not be said for McGonagall, who looked very tired and very old. The lines around her face were more pronounced, and her hair had gone completely white, quite a change from the matronly gray that it had been a mere two years ago. Hermione suddenly felt very sick.

"Yes, yes, quite right," McGonagall mumbled, and took Hermione by the elbow and guided her inside. "I'll show you to your room so you can freshen up and perhaps unpack a little before dinner, which will be served at half past six, by the way. I suspect the Headmaster will want to see you before then, though, so don't dawdle."

Hermione was led down a side staircase and through a maze of corridors, almost all the way to the dungeons. McGonagall stopped in front of a large portrait of Copernicus, who was currently occupied with his telescope and paid them no mind.

"The password is 'cogito ergo sum', which Albus thought was quite fitting, though you may change it to anything you wish. The room is already furnished, but you can change the color and style of everything as you like it."

McGonagall smiled and turn to leave. "It's good to have you back, my dear. I'll see you at dinner."

Hermione returned the smile. "Thanks for everything, Professor."

"Call me Minerva, for Merlin's sake!" she called over her shoulder.

Hermione grinned and muttered the password to Copernicus, who opened the portrait hole with a wave of his hand. She stepped into her new room for the first time.

On the whole, it was fairly unremarkable. A big four poster bed sat in the center, against the wall, with a bureau on one side and night stand on the other. Towards the front of the room was the fireplace, adorned by two comfortable looking armchairs and a table. A couple of tall oak bookshelves were pushed against the opposite wall, and a door, presumably leading to the bathroom, sat one side of the bureau. Its cozy, was Hermione's first thought, thinking of the spaciousness of her old flat in the city. A lump formed in her throat, and, despite her best efforts, a tear slid down her cheek. She pinched herself hard on the hand, an old trick she used to keep from crying. Now is not the time, she silently chastised herself, and put her bag down on the table. Rubbing her face with one hand, she took out a small trunk about the size of her thumb, set it on the floor, and enlarged it. She began to unpack her things, and any stray emotional thoughts were swiftly suppressed with the relaxing monotony of unpacking.

After about an hour, she checked her watch: 6: 09. Deciding it was time to get ready for dinner, she changed into a pair of fresh robes and went into the bathroom to brush her hair and check the little makeup she had on. She left the room, warded the door, and headed towards the Great Hall. Slightly nervous about seeing her old teachers and new colleagues for the first time in years, she walked with her head down, lost in thought. Turning a corner, she ran into something that felt like a bit like a wall but was unmistakably a human being.  Thrown back by the force, she was steadied by a strong hand on her shoulder. She looked up, and suppressed a shocked gasp at who she had run into.

"Good evening, Miss Granger,"

*TBC*

A/N:

'Cogito ergo sum' means 'I think, therefore, I am' in Latin.

Reviews are encouraged….: )