Disclaimer. I don't own Harry Potter. That is the property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic Books publishing, and such. I just had the idea for this story.
A high Praise to the Higher Power.
A hug and big kiss to my Mother and Son. I love you my darlings.
My gratitude to The Deathly Minion. Because he was keen on this story and I jumped over the rewrite. Told him I hated the first version and asked if he was interested in being my Alpha/Beta reader. He sent a message saying he was in, and he couldn't wait to see what would be the new version of the old thing. And, that as they say, is history.
To all the people who read and reviewed the earlier version. I would like to thank you for supporting my work. The ones who placed the story in their community reads, thank you.
This story is rated M+18. For mature language and themes.
A word to all the mean reviewers, guests (ghost), and Trolls. Halloween has been here and now is done, I don't feed nasty monsters, so don't bring any.
To the rest, please enjoy and leave a review.
Take care.
Madie080802
-oo0oo-
3 May 1998.
The day after the battle of Hogwarts.
First part.
The Twilight Zone.
Harry woke to the news that his best friend had vanished away. That something so unreal happened within twenty-four hours of defeating Voldemort, struck a chord. He studied the reactions of people. His closest mate, Ron, eerily, just discarded the whole idea, saying that Hermione was unstable and that maybe a curse had reached her, and she died in the forbidden forest. Ginny remained upset that Harry didn't want to continue their relationship. Harry gave her an odd stare and wondered if maybe he died the day before, and he was sleepwalking in purgatory, the stupid answers continued piling. No one had seen anything of Granger, she just faded. On his search, still, he realized he was alive, as Luna was busy helping Neville heal, and for once, Harry considered that this was not purgatory, but the twilight zone.
He shook his head, and continued walking, and went to inspect the remnants of the forbidden forest, following the suggestion or maybe just to get away from the nightmare reverie that was Hogwarts after the battle. Again, his brain, his soul, his heart, his magic, hurt as it hit home Hermione disappeared.
Minister Shacklebolt noticed Harry's plight and spared a team of Aurors to search for the missing heroine, but after seventy-two hours of no answers, they considered Hermione lost to the British Magical community.
A couple of days later, the Daily Prophet published a list of all the witches and wizards lost in battle and compared notes with goblin records. Regarding Hermione's magical signature, the results came as unknown. Harry breathed better, but not so much as the rest of magical Britain believed she died because of a fatal magical injury.
Hermione's missing status broke Harry's heart. Harry sent a letter to Minister Shacklebolt and to the press, asking for respect since, at last, he could mourn all the people close to him that were lost due to war. His parents, his godfather, his friends the Lupins, and his childhood friend Hermione Granger and her parents.
Harry purposely omitted the Weasley clan. He could not find an excuse to allow them back into his circle, or just close, the same way that he couldn't acknowledge the Malfoys, something about those two pureblood families irritated him in a subconscious way, and he listened to his sense of preservation. As he too dropped from the spotlight of the wizarding world.
Harry's mind kept one thought going in endless loops, and the guilt proved resilient. Having no known address of the Wilkins (Hermione's parents), aware of their current condition, amnesic, and living in Australia. It wasn't hard to picture, Hermione left Britain, to search for her family, closing a dark chapter in her life, on her exit.
Harry hated to admit he was powerless to the notion that the only one person who really mattered, his best and only genuine friend, Hermione, was for all purposes, buried in the Wizarding world.
Soon enough, he contemplated in silence. How do you continue living, when you feel dead, from the inside out? Exhausted, his magic was feeble, his strength was absent, he felt made of paper, and oblivion was close. It was then that an odd thing happened. He felt Kreacher pop and say: "Master Harry is dying, Kreacher, doesn't want to outlive one more master, please don't, please, half-blood stupid Gryffindor, boy-with-a-big-heart, please don't die, the bushy witch didn't sacrifice her magic for you, so you can give up on life, did she?"
"Wait, what? What did you just say Kreacher?" Asked Harry gaining a bit of color in his cheeks, as the old house-elf had tears rolling on his face.
"She lives, but just as you are weak, so is she, the bad magic, you both endured for so long, was very costly to you both, please Master Harry, fight the darkness, don't die, Kreacher, cannot lose another Master, you need to find her, you need to make babies and replenish the house of Black, so Kreacher can die in a dignified manner, please master Harry," babbled Kreacher.
"Kreacher, do you know where she is?" Asked Harry anxiously.
"I can't sense her, the damage she suffered was terrible, so I don't understand if she's a squib now, or her magic is resting, I'm sorry Master Harry," answered Kreacher.
"No, don't be sorry, old friend, so far, you're the only one, who I can trust with the truth if you can sense her alive for now, that's good enough, I'm going to find her Kreacher, thank you, for giving me a reason, to fight, I have to find her," Harry asked Kreacher to help him regain his vitality, and the old elf remained with Harry for the duration of his health and magical rehabilitation.
After partially gaining back his vigour, Harry realized that he, much like the rest of wizarding England, was following the rumors of people dying in the battle, and this attitude fitted a speck of truth, however, as Dumbledore had once said, "The truth was a beautiful and terrible thing" therefore he questioned such a rumor further. No matter the consequences.