Author's Notes: I am sad to say that I did indeed suffer FFDDD. Between school finals, hanging out with friends, and going to the pool, I have not had the time to write. And my computer has just suddenly developed this obsession with completely shutting down when I'm in the middle of typing my chapters. I apologize. The chapters may come a bit slowly now, but if I can recover from not writing for two months, I think this story will be continued. =)

And if anyone thinks the flashback in this chapter is a bit… weird… well, so do I, but once I started writing it I didn't want to stop. The main idea is to give the reader the idea that in the last years at Hogwarts, Hermione faced many difficult challenges and losses, and that's a reason why she's so reluctant to return.

As always, reviews are welcome.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER FOUR – BACK TO HOGWARTS
By early Monday morning, Hermione had stuffed several Muggle suitcases with items and possessions that would accompany her to Hogwarts. She walked around her beloved apartment for the final time, having just realized she would be boarding at Hogwarts and would not return home for many long months.

In less than an hour's time, Hermione would Apparate to a designated place at Hogsmeade station and would travel up to the school, just like her school days. Instead of anticipating the new experience, she was absolutely dreading it. While she was eager to assist the Ministry in a pretty impressive mission, Hermione was already missing her previous job. She missed the traffic every morning; the commotion at the Ministry; the hectic office hours; and, possibly, she even missed her boss.

That may be taking it a bit too far, she consciously told herself.

But Hermione still could not decipher the meaning behind McGonagall's words of "your fellow associates" from the letter. She honestly did not want to work alongside someone else. She had never had a partner before and wasn't quite sure how it would work out. What if they got all the credit for solving the case and Hermione was pushed into obscurity? What if they won the Most Valuable Witch award instead, breaking her three-year going on four-year record? What if they were a secret Death Eater, bent on world domination, with an undisclosed plan to assassinate Hermione in the middle of the night?

I've been watching far too many murder mysteries on the telly.

She checked her watch and realized with a small pang of apprehension that it was five till noon. After running her hand lovingly along her spotless kitchen table and taking in the trimness of her adored home one last time, Hermione took a deep breath, clutched onto her suitcases and bags tightly, and took out her wand.

A few seconds later, all that was left in the Granger apartment was several rooms filled with chairs, tables, and many random entertainment pleasures.

Crisp November air met Hermione's flesh upon arriving at her designated Apparation point. The remote roar of waves rolling across the Hogwarts lake could be heard in the distance as a fresh smell of youth reminisces tingled Hermione's appropriately chilled nose. For a moment, she felt like a small child again, just arriving at Hogsmeade Station, ready to begin another school year and not knowing what adventures awaited her.

Hermione took a couple steps and found herself standing on the very same platform the Hogwarts Express pulled in at every year – only this time, there wasn't a train on the tracks alongside her. The space next to her that was usually filled with a bright crimson train was completely empty. It was hard to keep mentally reminding herself her duty at Hogwarts had changed and was different this year.

Still grasping her luggage firmly, Hermione began the long walk up to Hogwarts. The grass was neatly cut, as always, and as green as ever. The looming castle that grew closer every second seemed as if it was watching Hermione's every move and awaiting her to enter through the main doors. Taking her eyes off the majestic building ahead of her, she gazed down at the shimmering surface of the lake below and shivered at the memories that resurfaced in her mind.

[FLASHBACK]

The door to Hermione's dorm opened, its opener to find Hermione lying on her four-poster with her eyes fixated on the less-than-interesting ceiling. The blood-red sun that was descending behind the hills in the distance cast an ominous glow through the windows and around the room. Small sighs emitted at regular intervals from the still figure on the bed but no other sound was to be heard.

"Hey."

Hermione made no intention to reply.

Her guest slumped against the doorframe and folded his arms across his chest, a conspicuous smirk working its way across his mouth. "You can't hide in here forever, you know."

Hermione blinked once, not taking her eyes off the ceiling. Her words were soft and distant, but she spoke nonetheless. "Go away, Ron."

Still smirking knowingly, Ron made his way across the room to Hermione's bed, the floorboards creaking with each step he took. Hermione turned over on her side to avoid looking at him, as little good as it did. He plopped down on the squishy four-poster aside her, hesitating in what to do.

"I know something's up. Parvati came storming into the common room, shouting about you being a stubborn prat and not ever wanting to accept the truth or something like that. I never listen to what comes out of that girl's mouth; she could have been quoting Shakespeare for all I know. It's all rubbish anyway."

Ron's attempt at cheering Hermione up faded away quickly. The morose seventh year was indeed stubborn, and Ron began to grow irritated in seeing his kindness have no effect at all.

"Hermione," he said, adding a touch of seriousness to his voice. He poked her arm sharply but she shook him off without as much as a single word. "Hermione, talk to me. You can't avoid me, too. Tell me what's up."

When Ron's words still ceased to influence Hermione to talk, he sighed and pushed his arm behind her back and brought her unwilling body up into his arms. She drooped awkwardly for a moment before giving in and wrapping her arms around Ron's neck closely.

"We had a fight," Hermione muttered into Ron's sweater. She drew back and furrowed her brow, recollecting the words that had been said. A concerned look suddenly clouded Ron's face as he drew Hermione closer to him.

"What about?" he asked gently.

Hermione faltered for a moment before looking away from Ron's face to stare out the window again. "About you," she whispered.

"Me?"

"I don't want to tell you," Hermione murmured, trying to avoid Ron's gaze again. Ron, though, took her hands in his and turned her to face him.

"If something's troubling you, I want you to tell me."

Hermione was silent a minute before continuing with her story. "Parvati doesn't think you're good enough for me. She was… insulting you, and your family, and saying…" She trailed off to stare out the window again, her face tinted by crimson light. Ron remained silent, his face expressionless, waiting for her to break out of her trance.

"So I slapped her… and told her you're better than anyone she would ever find. I think she's still sore at you for dumping her last year. But then she changed her mind and said I didn't deserve you, or anyone, and then she marched out of the room and slammed the door. Now she's probably down there, telling everyone what we said…"

"Forget her," Ron muttered more to himself than to Hermione after a moment's uncomfortable silence. "I dumped her for a reason. She's just a –"

"Before she left, the last thing I said to her was that she was a wicked git who deserved whatever misfortune came her way," Hermione continued on as if not hearing Ron. Her eyes were misty and unfocused and still staring out the window at the glittery depths of the sunset-bathed lake. "And she just glared at me and said nothing. But now I feel guilty… I shouldn't have said that, Ron, because she took it to heart and I didn't really mean it. She had that 'no one loves me' look on her face again. The last time she thought the world hated her, she tried to suffocate herself in a broom closet, remember?"

Ron stared down at Hermione and pushed a stray piece of frazzled hair behind her ear. He then pulled her even closer into a tight hug and murmured in her ear, "She'll be okay. Parvati may be a bit of a nutcase, but she's smart enough not to do anything drastic. She knows you weren't serious."

The sun was at its peak now, completely immersing the front lawns of Hogwarts in a menacing shade of red. Hermione had to shield her eyes from the sharp sunlight pouring into the room. She sniffled, still clinging to Ron, and turned her eyes to gaze out the window one last time.

"Ron? What's that by the lake?" she asked, pointing to a silhouette on the grounds.

Detaching himself from Hermione, Ron moved towards the window to get a better view. He realized there was something down by the lake, and it was dangerously close to the edge, too.

"I think it's a person," Ron commented. "Can't make out who, though."

He glanced back and found Hermione's face had gone completely white. "Hermione?"

"Oh, my god," were the only words she said before sprinting from the dorm and down the spiraling staircase to the common room. Harry was sitting at a table playing Exploding Snap with Dean and Neville while Ginny watched. They all looked up at Hermione curiously as she whizzed by, followed closely by Ron.

Disregarding anyone she met in the hallways, Hermione hurried through the corridors of Hogwarts and threw open the main doors. She raced against the setting sun to the lake, praying against all hope that she would still be there…

The sun seemed a mere second away from vanishing behind the horizon as Hermione stumbled down the sloping lawns, panting heavily and nearing the shores. She searched wildly for any movement along the banks, but the sun was at an unbearably blinding point and nothing could be seen. She heard Ron huffing behind her but payed no attention. Her mind was set on getting to the lake before it was too late.

The lapping waves were less than ten feet from Hermione when she stopped and looked. There were no other figures surrounding the lake, none at all. For a moment, her stomach lurched as the worst case scenario came to mind, but then a small noise some forty feet in the air caused her to look up. A girl was unsteadily hovering above the water on a broomstick; obviously, she did not see Hermione. Multiple footsteps drew closer but they were unnoticed. Hermione's full attention was on the situation at hand.

"Please, don't," she murmured to herself, as if it would make a difference. "No, don't… don't…"

Without warning, the figure on the broomstick (who appeared to be someone Hermione's age still dressed in her black robes) made an odd squealing noise before deliberately dropping off the broomstick, only to plummet the full drop into the penetratingly icy waters below. Hermione screamed aloud but it could help none; a small splash was all there was before the figure, otherwise known as Parvati Patil, disappeared forever into the mysterious pits of Hogwarts lake.

Stunned and mortified, Hermione felt hot tears running down her cheeks. The broomstick hovered in the air a few more seconds before gracefully drifting to the opposite bank, but she paid no attention to it. Beginning to sob more heavily, the hard truth suddenly hit her forcefully as the scene she had just witnessed replayed over and over in her mind.

The footsteps finally caught up with her and several people came to a screeching halt, all breathing with difficulty. It was clear everyone wanted to say something but nobody could voice the words exactly.

"Hermione…" Ron tried, taking her hand in his. She pushed him away, her eyes still glued to the absolutely still lake. She had just seen one of her very close acquaintances – as much as she had hated Parvati at times – go the limit and actually kill herself; nothing anyone could say would comfort her. True, they all knew Parvati had morphed into a senseless and irrational person after her parents divorced, her brother was killed, and she broke up with Ron. No one, however, expected the unthinkable to happen.

"Get Dumbledore," Hermione heard a low voice mutter to her left. She recognized it immediately as Harry's. "Quick – someone get him."

The wind picked up, blowing leaves from nearby bushes onto Hermione's feet. The world seemed no different. The flowers were still blooming, the birds were still crying, and somewhere, a family was still living their lives not knowing a person dear to them had made such an illogical decision that literally cost them their existence.

Time crawled by slowly as Hermione stood at the edge of the lake, staring aimlessly across, still in shock. In the distance, a door shut loudly, and several more figures moved across the darkening lawns of Hogwarts. And then it all came crashing down on her.

Parvati killed herself because of what Hermione said to her, making it Hermione's fault. It was as if she had committed a murder. The way she looked at it, she had just forced someone to take their own life. She was guilty. She killed Parvati.

"Hermione?"

"I killed her."

The following minutes were a blur to Hermione; teachers from the school stumbling past Hermione, Ministry officials Apparating in and out of the scene, curious students sneaking down from the school to see. And when the truth was announced aloud, fits of crying broke out and students became hysterical.

"Miss Granger?" said a voice from behind Hermione at the same time a hand tapped her on the shoulder. She averted her eyes to the side to see McGonagall peering down at her. She gulped, and her heart sped up. Are they going to accuse me of her death? she thought, panicking.

"Miss Granger, would you care to attend to my office for a chat? I believe there are some things we need to speak of."

Hermione began nodding her head and slowly turned around, ready to confess all. But McGonagall continued speaking, placing her hand to rest on Hermione's shoulder.

"Not tonight," she said softly. "You look something awful; your face is chalk white." She glanced around the hectic scene behind them. "I do think you've gone through enough for one evening. Madam Pomfrey will be waiting for you in the hospital wing; go see her for a dreamless tonic and I will come see you in the morning. Everything's going to be okay," she added, noticing Hermione's distressed expression. "Mr. Weasley will escort you back to the school."

Thousands of different thoughts ran through Hermione's head as she exited the wild panorama. Ron walked alongside her back up the now black lawns, not daring to say a word. She barely even noticed when he took her hand halfway through the walk. Tears still silently trickled down her face as she repeated in her mind the only clear fact she could focus on: I am a murderer.

[END FLASHBACK]

Reminding herself of that awful, dreadful day brought a feeling of nausea to Hermione's stomach. She looked down again and realized the lake was farther away and, looking forward, that the doors of Hogwarts were directly in front of her face. She hadn't even realized it; the walk to Hogwarts was quicker than she remembered. Clearing her mind of all the foreboding thoughts she had kept in her head until this moment, Hermione pushed open the doors to Hogwarts one more time.

They made a squeaky noise, and Hermione thought that surely someone would have heard it. The Entrance Hall, looking exactly the same as Hermione remembered it, was empty. She honestly expected McGonagall, or someone, to meet her, as she was not entirely sure where she was supposed to head. The place was perfectly silent; not a sound was to be heard anywhere. She checked her watch; it was now nearly ten past noon, several minutes more than she was told to arrive at. Why should it matter that I'm late? It's not like I have a welcome committee here to greet me, she reasoned.

Hermione decided to poke her head in through the Great Hall doors, seeing as they were ajar, anyway. She dropped her bags and discreetly pushed on the wood, peering inside. Even though it was lunch time, she had expected more students to be seated at the tables; in all, there was probably a total of twelve. She was unaware of the curious stares she was getting from the nearest three as she stared in awe at the room before her; it hadn't changed a bit in all the years since she last saw it and was still as magnificent as ever. Of course, it held as many memories as anything in Hogwarts did, but Hermione pushed them away before another flashback came on.

She didn't notice the smallest of the children staring waving at her until he said, "Excuse me, miss. Are you looking for something?"

"Oh… where is everyone?" Hermione asked him.

"Hogsmeade," he said with a sad sigh. "It was canceled this weekend and moved to today."

"Why didn't you go?"

"I'm just a first year," the child said dejectedly. "First years aren't allowed the privilege of going to Hogsmeade. Didn't you know that?"

"No… I knew," Hermione replied absentmindedly. She thanked the child for his time and closed the doors of the Great Hall, resting her hand on them for a moment. Then a familiar, sharp voice from behind snapped her back, making her jump.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Miss Granger."

Hermione turned to find Professor McGonagall watching her curiously with a hint of a smile on her lips. Hermione couldn't help but smile back at the woman who, for many years, she had looked up to as a role model. Now, as strange as it sounded, she was no longer her mentor but now her fellow co-worker.

"Hello, Professor."

"Please, call me Minerva now," McGonagall said airily, "since you too are now on the staff. And follow me; we've been waiting for you."

Hermione followed the woman who she could never come to call by her first name down the so well-known halls of Hogwarts. Halfway through the trip, she realized she was being taken to Dumbledore's old office, which, she reminded herself, was no longer Dumbledore's but now McGonagall's own.

"Unfortunately, your associates have not arrived yet," she told Hermione as they were passing by a portrait of an iron-clad maiden. "As well as I know them, I should not be surprised, but perhaps they've turned up in my office since I left…"

She had used the word 'associates' again. Quite curious as to whom McGonagall was referring to and why exactly she needed associates, Hermione was about to ask the question that had been bothering her for nearly a week. But the two had arrived in front of the gargoyle leading to the office of the Headmaster – or Headmistress. McGonagall muttered the password ("whiskers") and soon they were traveling up the spiraling staircase. Hermione was pleased to see McGonagall had kept the same style of decorating; many of Dumbledore's old gadgets and odd paintings were still displayed.

Distant voices were heard inside the office, but they were unable to be translated. McGonagall chuckled slightly and mumbled to herself, "Ah, yes, I do believe they've arrived," before reaching for the door handle.

Pulling her eyes from the portraits lining the walls, Hermione opened to her mouth and began to form a sentence. "Excuse me, but who exactly will I be working with –" She was cut off when the door opened and McGonagall stepped through, allowing Hermione to follow.

Inside, muttering to each other with amused looks on their faces, were the two people Hermione had least expected to see. And, she found herself admitting, the two people she least wanted to see.

Their conversations ceased quickly as the three former friends stared at one another, utterly bewildered, before all shouting aloud, "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, dear," McGonagall said sorrowfully. "This is not the way I expected things to turn out."