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Author's Note: This is the second installment of Unchained Memories. Please review. I've gotten 124 hits and 2 reviews. I would love if I even got a two word review. Please, It makes me happy.
Chapter 2: Truths and Finality
It was the middle of the night at the Granger household, all lights and noises extinguished. All but the soft tapping of fingernails against a wooden writing desk. Hermione Granger was sitting in her father's study. She was rarely allowed in there, but the room had an aura of comfort, a feeling that came too infrequently in the wizarding world she was so accustomed to. But tonight was different. The wall-high bookshelves that would administer hours of occupation now left foreboding shadows all along the floors and partly on Hermione's pink nightrobe.
She's been sitting at this desk for hours, at least debating on how to take action on this nightmare. Perhaps this was a forewarning, similar to the many Harry has had. Except, Hermione was very doubtful that this was an image from Voldemort himself. Why would You-Know-Who target Hermione, and besides, that dream would make much more sense if it were a premonition. She wouldn't have been gliding, and she would have hardly been as clueless as to notice a room brimming with Inferi. Perhaps, Ron hadn't been running away from her at all, and that he meant to have her follow him. Yes, that must've been it. But why would he start to decay? As the sun rose up, Hermione had to settle on an answer, so quickly dubbed the dream a childish (but quite graphic) nightmare. She still had the feeling of apprehension, but quickly shook it off. Today was going to be a better day.
She hadn't planned on it, but decided to go to the Burrow a few days early. She feared that staying home longer would just make the parting much more difficult. So, stretching and quietly closing the door to the study, she went upstairs.
Dawn was breaking, yet Hermione hadn't the slightest symptom of drowsiness. Careful not to wake her parents, she quietly got dressed in a pair of muggle jeans, a green shirt and white sandals. Then, she started to pack all her bags. She stood up and did a look-over of her room to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Ignoring what Moody had told her she picked up her wand and stuck it in her back pocket. Then, taking care to pack Hogwarts: A History with her other schoolbooks, she gave a small sad laugh as she realized what she was doing. She wouldn't have any need for any of her school things, for she wasn't returning to Hogwarts, ever. Holding back tears for another time, Hermione stood solemnly over her extra luggage. Who knew not having to carry sixty extra pounds of books would upset someone so greatly?
It was now late morning and Hermione had been sure she heard her mother cooking breakfast. She started to lug her suitcases down the stairs and saw her mother emerge from under the staircase with a jug of juice in her hands. Smiling, she said, "Quick-starting your packing, dear?" Inhaling a deep breath and not responding to this comment Hermione simply said, "Mother, we need to talk."
Hermione had not mentioned a single thing of school to her parents. She told all the fun things, teachers, new spells, Harry, Ron, Quidditch, but never had she ever felt the need to burden her parents with such problems of being in mortal peril.
Her father had already left for work, so telling her mother was only half the battle. She decided to finish the other half in a note. Telling her mother had been awful, her eyes went wide with fear more than once and when she told the story of the last battle and Dumbledore, she swore she was about to faint. "Mum, I have to go help Harry. I can't leave him, and even if I don't go" (she put up a hand here to silence her mother who was about to interrupt) "I'll be leaving you and Dad in even more danger. By doing this mum, I'm going to help save the world." By saying this, not only her mother, but also Hermione realized the pertinence of this mission.
This wasn't just about saving Harry, or her family. This wasn't about just getting revenge on Voldemort. This wasn't about filling a prophecy. This was about everyone else. This was about the creator of Chocolate Frogs, the muggle children that disobey their elders, the dogs and blast-ended-skrewts of the earth. Three teenagers had the world in their hands.
Hugging her mother, going to the fireplace, and not even taking one last look at her favorite pillow or the study or even her mother, Hermione said into the fireplace, "The Burrow."
End Chapter.
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