Hallo y'all,

Here is chapter 4 for you. Today I will post another one as well!

Greeting!

4. Thoughts and plans

The rain poured through the leaky gutters and spilled over. It trickled down the walls and windows until it seeped into the ground. The young woman sighed deeply and leaned over the armrest of the sofa in front of the window, while looking outside. The meadows and fields around the burrow were full of all the water that had been pouring from the sky for days. It seemed like the sky wouldn't stop crying.

Hermione sighed. The mood outside mirrored the mood within the walls of the burrow. Molly had been unrecognizable since Fred died. Her skin was like old parchment, her eyes were lifeless and she continued to lose weight. The fun-loving, active family matriarch, who had always been in a good mood, spent her time crouching in an armchair and staring into nowhere. All attempts to encourage her to lie down, eat something or join the family for a walk had failed miserably.

It had been two weeks since the dead had been buried at Hogwarts. Molly and Arthur had also decided to put their son to rest in his old school, his place for "the best inspiration for pranks" as he had always called Hogwarts. It had rained terribly that day too.

Hermione remembered the day like it has been just yesterday…

They had set out from the Burrow at lunchtime, all in black mourning clothes, all with black umbrellas and flanked by several aurors who were closely monitoring the area. After all, not all Death Eaters had been caught and they posed a great danger to their general safety.

Hermione had changed one of her dresses, a knee-length black one made of lace, and put on matching black mid-high shoes with straps. She hadn't been dressed appropriately for the temperatures outside - it was a very chilly May - but at least she'd felt dressed appropriately for the situation. Ginny had tied her hair in a bun at the back of her neck.

The young Weasley woman had worn a similar dress too. But Hermione had to force her to get out of her room at all. Ginny was even thinner than the weeks before and her being also seemed infinitely sad and restless. Only when Hermione had promised her not to leave her side for a second, she had agreed to go to the funeral.

Because Harry hadn't entered the Burrow for two days. A special task force of aurors had picked him up on May 6th for a questioning at the Ministry. He hadn't shown up until the funeral, but had sent a few memos telling them not to worry. He wasn't being interrogated; he was only supposed to attend the hearings.

How in a hurry the Ministry was suddenly! Hermione thought sourly.

Suddenly the Ministry seemed to move, but all those months before no one had put a Knut into the real defense of the Dark Lord.

Times were different, Hermione! The young woman kept trying to convince herself. But the bitterness remained.

They had finally met Harry again at Hogwarts. He had worn a black suit that was appropriate for the situation. His hair also seemed somehow smoother, not as messy as usual. Ginny had rushed towards him and hadn't left his side for the rest of the day. Hermione remembered smiling gently. She had known that the two would eventually find each other. Her inner child smiled mischievously at the memory.

And if the situation hadn't been stressed enough already, she had felt Ron's hand, which had jerkily pushed into hers. Hermione's gaze had slipped over to her friend. Ron's suit hadn't been as fancy as Harry's, it was wrinkled and not very shapely. The lanky young redhead had also become skinny over the past few months. Hermione remembered how his hand had been wet and slippery and she had found herself trying to pull her fingers out of his. But she hadn't had the heart and kept her hand were it was.

Hermione had been to funerals a few times. The last one had been Albus Dumbledore's, which had taken place less than a year ago. But the weather had been milder that day. Two weeks ago, however, the mood had been even more bleak, although the speeches given by Kingsley Shacklebolt and other officials had been filled with hopes for a bright future.

All those who were buried that day had died fighting for what was good and right. They had freely stood up for their beliefs. But it remained horrific.

Hermione, who had been sitting next to Ron in the second row of the Great Hall, had held her friend, who let his tears flow again.

But no wet, salty drops of sadness had flowed from her eyes.

On the contrary... Hermione had felt more drained than ever.

And so she had strengthened her boyfriend's back. Had held him while silent sobs had shaken his body.

At that very moment her gaze had met that of an elderly witch, who had sat in an ancient wheelchair in imposing black robes.

Professor McGonagalls eyes were in tears, but she hadn't cried either. Infinitely sad her eyes had been on the Weasley family and Hermione had spotted how her lips had trembled. The transfiguration professor had looked a lot stronger since their last meeting, and yet she didn't seem to be able to walk on her own. Hermione couldn't blame her teacher; after all, her lungs had been injured. It was like a miracle that this elderly lady had such inner healing powers.

From what Hermione had learned from Ginny and Neville about the past schoolyear, it must have been hell for the old staff - and especially for Professor McGonagall.

Their eyes had been on each other for a long time. Her amber irises had met the deep, rich emerald green that had practically sprayed from her teacher's eyes. A deep understanding and something like peace had risen in Hermione as her teacher fixed her with her eyes. The young woman had felt how her insides relaxed more and more, how she let herself fall.

For the first time after everything that had happened, Hermione allowed herself to let her tears flow.

She had started to cry too, quietly and undetected, but she was crying. And the loving, indulgent look of her teacher had accompanied her over all the shame, the demonstration of her own weakness.

Hermione sighed softly and turned back into the Weasley family's living room. Ron sat at the dining table with Harry and they'd been playing chess game after chess game for hours.

Ginny sat in a comfortable wing chair with her mother in front of the fireplace. She had finally been able to persuade Molly to at least knit something and Ginny held the bundle of thread for her.

Arthur and Percy were at the Ministry, Charlie and Bill had left after the funeral, but stopped by for dinner every few days and George had retired to his room, which he had previously shared with Fred.

Another fine sigh escaped Hermione. She missed the twins' exuberance so much. She missed the bright but somewhat dumb Ron she liked so much and she missed Ginny's mysterious, happy smile.

Everything was dreary, not just the weather out there!

Hermione let her gaze wander out of the window one more time and could barely see movements out of the corner of her eye. She spotted through the rain showers an owl, which was trundling through the roaring wind.

"Watch out, I'll open the window for Errol," Hermione called into the silence and stepped into the kitchen to open a window for the great gray owl.

Not a second too late, because Errol was trundling through the small kitchen window at breakneck speed just as the young woman had torn it open. A small fountain of water spurted out at Hermione while Errol dropped onto the kitchen table, messing up Harry and Ron's game.

The chess pieces flew away in all directions and cursed the intruder. Hermione had to smile as Harry and Ron grumpily picked up the figures on the carpet and under the table.

The young woman stepped up to the tragicomic owl and held out her hand with an owl biscuit. Errol immediately grabbed it with almost new strength and held out the little leg from which the Daily Prophet dangled. Hermione untied the dripping piece of paper that had once been a newspaper and conjured it dry.

Then she dropped back on the worn sofa in the living room and unfolded the newspaper. Of course, there were again countless junk articles that were full of rumors about the war, about the country and its people. But Hermione was not interested in the entertaining part of the yellow press, but rather headed for the political part. Her eyes scanned the individual headlines when she got stuck on the opening story of the page:

Professor Minerva McGonagall accepts the offer of the Headmistress' position at Hogwarts

Hermione felt a brief stitch in her stomach. Now her Professor for Transfiguration became her future restores after all. She couldn't tell whether she was pleased or not.

If she was honest with herself, there was no better person to fill the post, but deep-down Hermione felt a deep regret that the professor would no longer be able to teach once she had taken on the strenuous job of her predecessor.

Hermione would hardly ever see her, let alone talk to her in a more private atmosphere.

Sourly she looked up from the newspaper. How was she doing? Had she recovered? Perhaps the article could tell her more, so she turned her gaze back to the newspaper.

The incumbent Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Minerva McGonagall, 63, will hold the vacant post of Headmistress for the next school year, which has been advanced to July 6, 1998.

This emerges from a report of the responsible education authority. Its chairman, Fletcher Hopkins, said in a press release:

"We, the school board and the department for education, are delighted that Minerva McGonagall will be the head of the Hogwarts school for the coming school year. Her power of disposal is effective immediately and future inquiries and applications are to be sent to her by now, a copy of which must nevertheless be submitted pro forma to the education department. "

A trend of recovery and restoration of the internationally known magic school and the infamous scene of the last days of the war is emerging. In addition to Professor McGonagall all existing and incoming professors from previous years will be rehabilitated and put back into service, as Fletcher Hopkins further states.

In addition to Professor Minerva McGonagall, who is on the mend after being injured by a curse, the Professor of Charms Filius Flitwick has been appointed as her deputy.

More informations will follow shortly!

Hermione frowned.

Should the school year start earlier? Since when was that a done deal? And when would they get their letters?

Thoughtfully, she raised her gaze and stepped up to Harry and Ron.

"Did you know that the school year will start beforehand?" She asked the young men playing chess.

Harry raised his head first and frowned at his longtime friend. "No, I didn't know anything about that. You, Ron? "

He now turned to the young woman and just shrugged his shoulders, disinterested.

Hermione looked at her boyfriend, a little irritated, and asked firmly: "Don't you care that we will be going back to school in just under six weeks?"

But Ronald's desired reaction, namely to nod his head in a somewhat embarrassed and accepting way, did not materialize. Instead, he mumbled a little nervously, "I don't care because I won't be going back to Hogwarts."

In Hermione's mind, all the fuses blew up.

"I beg your pardon?" She gasped, leaning on the roughly timbered kitchen table. "How can you even say that?!"

Ronald raised his shoulders again and looked for help at Harry, who was sitting on his seat grinning, jumping slightly and seemed only to be looking for a way to escape the impending conflict.

Since no help was to be expected from him, Ron got up and stepped up to Hermione, who was trembling inwardly.

"I mean," he said reassuringly, carefully reaching for her hand, "that I'm not going to Hogwarts because I finished my school career with my OWLs. Kingsley offered Harry and myself to begin the auror training in September. After our merits in the fight against Voldemort we would have deserved it. "

Hermione looked at her other best friend in shock. "You're staying, too?"

"Look Hermione," said Ron, getting excited. "We don't need dusty NEWTs to work in the ministry. We no longer have to sit in McGonagall's class and snoop around and let ourselves be scolded if we can't do something right away…"

That was enough for Hermione. Furious, she snatched her hand from her boyfriend and shouted, "McGonagall doesn't scold any students. She only rebukes them if they are not careful and screw up a task!"

She saw Harry and Ron exchange glances. Finally, Ron replied, "Of course you see her that way, because you are her favorite cup. But for us it was always an agony with her. She's the strictest teacher of all...apart from Snape, of course."

Hermione snorted.

"Look," her red-haired friend continued, taking her hand again. He just didn't seem to be learning!

"We can ask Kingsley if you too can start an apprenticeship in September. Magical law enforcement or something...wherever you want." He stroked her fingers. "Then we can always be together. We don't have to go back to Hogwarts and can stay here. "

All blood cells froze in Hermione's veins.

"You… you want to stay here? In the burrow?", she gasped.

Ron frowned in confusion. "Yes of course, what did you think?"

That was too much for Hermione. She snatched her hand from his, turned on her heel, and hurried out of the small, crooked house.