It was a few days after the funeral, and Hermione was hulled up in her
private dorm room.
Rain poured outside and the bitter cold wind pounded against her windows, as Hermione began sorting through the belongings of her father. Silly stuff was all Hermione could think of to call it. Trinkets. There were pictures, a mold imprint of Hermione's hand that he had kept from around the time she was five, birthday cards he'd received from her, books he had read to her as a child, and something that Hermione hadn't seen before.
It was about the size of Hogwarts; a History, loosely bound, and the deepest black Hermione had ever seen. Unsure of what it could be, but intensely interested in finding out, she opened it, wondering what mysteries lay inside.
The binding crinkled as she began to open the cover. A letter fell out.
My dearest Hermione,
If you are reading this now, I know what has happened to me. I have died, and you must learn to accept that. Loosing someone is always hard, but it is made harder when one refuses to move on. Move on Hermione, but always remember I love you. Remember that.
For many years, I have waited for my death to occur. You may be wondering why, and I promise I will get to that, but I must tell you something more important, that will make you better understand.
Do you remember when you first got your Hogwarts letter? I do. I knew it was coming for quite some time, but I wouldn't tell your mother. She wouldn't have understood. So, I waited, and waited until that wonderful day finally arrived. You were so excited. I could see it in your eyes, and I knew you would be great at Hogwarts.
As you know, your mother wasn't to found of the idea, but I eventually talked her into it, telling her that if anything bad happened, we would pull you out of that school as fast as we could. Did you know that we received letters informing us of your encounter with the troll, your petrifacation, the convict you helped escape (Sirius Black if I recall.), your being held hostage by mer-people, and the trip to the ministry you made to take on Voldemort? I bet you didn't. Neither did your mother.
I didn't want her pulling you out of a school that I knew you loved. I didn't want her to pull you away from the friends you had made. I didn't want her to take you away from the very things I had loved as a child. So, I didn't show her the letters, and pretended, around you and her, as though I was oblivious to the happenings at your school.
You see Hermione; I was once a student at Hogwarts too.
Rain poured outside and the bitter cold wind pounded against her windows, as Hermione began sorting through the belongings of her father. Silly stuff was all Hermione could think of to call it. Trinkets. There were pictures, a mold imprint of Hermione's hand that he had kept from around the time she was five, birthday cards he'd received from her, books he had read to her as a child, and something that Hermione hadn't seen before.
It was about the size of Hogwarts; a History, loosely bound, and the deepest black Hermione had ever seen. Unsure of what it could be, but intensely interested in finding out, she opened it, wondering what mysteries lay inside.
The binding crinkled as she began to open the cover. A letter fell out.
My dearest Hermione,
If you are reading this now, I know what has happened to me. I have died, and you must learn to accept that. Loosing someone is always hard, but it is made harder when one refuses to move on. Move on Hermione, but always remember I love you. Remember that.
For many years, I have waited for my death to occur. You may be wondering why, and I promise I will get to that, but I must tell you something more important, that will make you better understand.
Do you remember when you first got your Hogwarts letter? I do. I knew it was coming for quite some time, but I wouldn't tell your mother. She wouldn't have understood. So, I waited, and waited until that wonderful day finally arrived. You were so excited. I could see it in your eyes, and I knew you would be great at Hogwarts.
As you know, your mother wasn't to found of the idea, but I eventually talked her into it, telling her that if anything bad happened, we would pull you out of that school as fast as we could. Did you know that we received letters informing us of your encounter with the troll, your petrifacation, the convict you helped escape (Sirius Black if I recall.), your being held hostage by mer-people, and the trip to the ministry you made to take on Voldemort? I bet you didn't. Neither did your mother.
I didn't want her pulling you out of a school that I knew you loved. I didn't want her to pull you away from the friends you had made. I didn't want her to take you away from the very things I had loved as a child. So, I didn't show her the letters, and pretended, around you and her, as though I was oblivious to the happenings at your school.
You see Hermione; I was once a student at Hogwarts too.