Chapter 28

Hermione awoke just before dawn with a huge headache. She had just been dreaming about Draco being convicted. They had taken away his wand, snapped it, and then sent him into exile and seclusion, in Afghanistan.

There wasn't anything wrong with Afghanistan, but she wanted to be with him, and according to her dream, this wouldn't be possible. She knew that the dream wasn't prophetic, she hadn't had visions in a long time, but it had been terrifying.

She pulled on some clothing, and stumbled down the stairs. Sirius was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a large bowl of porridge. Hermione grabbed a bowl, filled it, and sat down beside him.

"Get much sleep?" Sirius asked, blowing on his spoonful. She shook her head tiredly. "No."

"That's too bad," Sirius said, shaking his head. "But don't be nervous. They won't convict him of anything. It was self-defense."

"But who's going to believe that we were attacked by a Fury?" Hermione said miserably. "They're mythological."

"That is a bit of a problem," Sirius admitted, taking a big bite.

"And they'll be biased against him as well, because he's a son of a twice convicted Death Eater," she said miserably. "Oh, and I won't be able to testify."

"Why?"

"They say that since I'm going out with him, I have a loyalty to him, and I may be induced to lie for him," she said bitterly. "Which I can understand, but completely resent."

"That is strange," Sirius commented slowly. "Usually they don't take much stock in things like that. Well, Dumbledore will be there."

"I know," Hermione replied. "But what if Dumbledore's influence doesn't stretch that far? What if they put him in Azkaban?"

Sirius paled slightly at the mention of the dread prison, but plowed ahead anyway. "They won't put a kid in Azkaban."

"Sirius, we're on the brink of war," Hermione replied, standing. "They'll do what they have to to save people. They'll jail anyone they think is dangerous."


Hermione and Draco stood alone outside the Winzengamot court-room. Mr. Weasley had dropped them off, assuring them both that all would be fine, and everything would work out.

"Everything will be fine," Hermione said, straightening his jacket. "You'll do well. Justice will prevail." Her voice cracked slightly, and she bit her lip, willing herself not to cry.

"Hey," he said, lifting her chin. "Mr. Weasley's right. What could go wrong? Nothing."

"Oh, Draco," she said with a sigh. "You're too optimistic for your own good."

He smiled, and kissed her forehead. "Wish me luck."

"Luck," she replied, her stomach clenching horribly. He turned away, and disappeared into the courtroom. She took a seat in one of the plush seats outside the room, and took out her book.

Presently someone sat down beside her, and she looked up to see Harry and Pan sitting on either side of her.

"Hey," she said, putting her book into her purse. "What are you two doing here?"

"Came to see how the trial's going," Pan replied cheerfully. She had a hot pink flower painted on her forehead.

"Well," Hermione said. "It's only been going for a few minutes."

"That's good," Pan said. "Means they can't have decided anything yet."

"Who knows?" Harry said with a shrug. "My trial took half an hour, Draco's could take longer."

They waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, the door swung open. Hermione jumped to her feet, and found that both Pan and Harry were clutching her hands, supporting her.

Draco came out, alone. He stood there, grinning, and rubbing his hands together, as the Winzengamot court filed out, most of them looking rather disgruntled, the others seeming quite cheerful.

"What took you so long?" Hermione demanded, folding her arms. "It doesn't usually take that long!"

Draco shrugged. "They had a real hard time believing, but someone mentioned that someone in Devonshire had seen creatures like that I described, and that there could be merit to my claim."

"So, you aren't being fined, or anything terrible?" Pan asked matter-of-factly.

"Nope," Draco replied gleefully. "I'm so glad that they believed me, because for a second there, they were seriously considering putting me in some sort of jail for underage wizards."

Harry looked puzzled. "Is there really a jail for underage wizards?"

"Yes," Draco said, glancing around. "My mum used to threaten to send me there if I misbehaved around Aunt Bellatrix."

"Heh," Hermione snorted. "Wouldn't Bellatrix strip you to the bone and then make you jump off the roof, or something horrible?"

"Probably," Draco said, "But I won't have to find out, since we're no longer related."


"Letters!" Mrs. Weasley called that night over dinner as a large owl swooped in, delivering a pile of mail. "Looks like it's from Hogwarts!"

"School letters!" Hermione gasped. "You know what that means? We'll find out if we're Head Boy or Girl, Draco!"
"Good luck," Harry said gloomily. "I won't get anything again, watch."

Mr. Weasley handed out the letters to all six of the children who would be attending Hogwarts in September. Pan inspected her letter carefully, as if it would explode.

Hermione gently opened her's, and pulled out the letter.

"I'm Head Girl!" she screamed. "Oh god, Mum and Dad'll be so proud!"

"So am I!" Draco exclaimed. "What a lucky break!"

"Wait, that can't be," Harry interjected suddenly, completely flabbergasted. "It says I am too! That can't be possible."

"You're right," Hermione said, drooping. "There are only one Head girl and boy, this is very strange."

"You'll have to get Dumbledore to explain at the beginning of the year," Mrs. Weasley said, bringing out a giant platter of fish and chips. "Because he's not coming back to visit, he has too much to do at Hogwarts before the start of term. It's hard business completely sealing off the campus and making it safe."

"Understandably," Harry said, "But I don't understand. I can't be Head Boy, because Head implies that he is the best, but I'm not the best."

"And neither am I," Draco said quickly. "So, how do you choose that sort of thing? And what if other people got Head as well, what do we do?"

"I don't know," Hermione replied firmly. "We'll just have to wait and find out."

"It always seems that we do a lot of waiting," Ron said dejectedly. "Wait, wait, wait."

"Well," Pan said, suddenly very philosophical. "It's better than being dead."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked rudely.

She eyed him, and then smiled.

Everyone relaxed slightly.

But everyone who sat at that table that night, would never forget what Pandora said next.

"You'll see," she said. "You'll see."