Interlude: Hermione Granger

She couldn't seem to stop crying. Everything had changed since the first day of the competition. Hogwarts was quiet. Hermione had never known the school to be this quiet. There was no laughter, classes had been cancelled, and meals the great hall were conducted in silence.

The empty bed in her dorm room was a constant reminder, a massive black hole that consumed all joy for those who gazed upon it. Lavender and Pavarti had laughed at something that morning and then their gaze traveled to the empty bed – Hari's bed where Hari would be sitting – and all their mirth vanished. Hermione found herself doing that too, turning to say something or get Hari's opinion, only to remember she was gone…it felt like she was being gutted every time she remembered – hated herself for forgetting, even for just a moment.

They had gotten lucky, she supposed. Hari wasn't dead, at least nobody truly believed so…and she was the only fourth year Gryffindor they had lost. The upper years had lost five of their own, but the first years…the first years lost nearly half. No other House had lost a first year, but Slytherin's one casualty had been a second year – Daphne's little sister, Astoria.

Daphne was still in coma, they had been found pressed together underneath the stands. Her parents sitting vigil by her bedside. Hermione pitied the girl that she hardly knew. They had never been hostile to each other, not like Parkinson, but…to awake only to find out you lived while your sister did not…it was cruel and unfair.

Hermione glanced up as someone entered the common room. Ginny walked in slowly, her shoulders drooping and feet dragging. She had been spending her days in the infirmary as well as any of the other few students who were naturally talented at healing. Many of the injured were too critical to transport to Saint Mungo's so the Mediwizards had portkeyed in.

Even with the numerous healers, still they had been shorthanded. They pulled from the sixth and seventh years first. When they found only a small number naturally inclined the rigorous and delicate art, they started asking even the younger years. Hermione wasn't certain, but she had heard rumors that the infirmary had even second years assisting.

The students were tasked with the menial tasks, fetching this, changing that, sterilizing those. Not once did Ginny ever complain about it, but Hermione knew how exhausted she was at the end of each shift. As each day passed, more and more of her light was just gone.

Nearly a hundred were injured, and Hermione could not even imagine how many of those were critical, did not want to think on how many more they were still to lose.

Ginny shuffled towards her, collapsing on the couch before she let herself list sideways to lay in Hermione's lap. The older girl started to soothe the younger, fingers running through the red hair. Tears welled in her eyes, wishing the hair was black. She would always do this for Hari when she had had a rough day.

"We lost Finch-Fletchly," Ginny whispered, curling onto her side to gaze into the fire. Her hand clutched Hermione's knee and she could feel warm tears soaking into her trousers.

"How many is that now?" Hermione asked, nails scratching lightly at Ginny's scalp.

"Thirty one," she replied and Hermione felt a lump in her throat. Ginny turned onto her back and she adjusted her hand to cradle the younger girl's face instead. "Is there any update?"

Hermione turned her face away, using her free hand to wipe away the tears that were threatening to spill. She bit her lip as she recalled her earlier meeting with Professor McGonagall. "No," she replied after a moment. "They say it was a portkey," she continued, speaking words that she had promised to say to no-one else. But with Ron still in critical condition, she needed to speak to somebody.

"Do they know who did it?" Ginny asked.

"Not yet," she replied, her thumb wiping the side of Ginny's face to brush away the tear tracks. "They haven't even been able to figure out where the portkey sent them. Moody is questioning everyone. There's a rumor that the Ministry is sending more Aurors."

Ginny nodded her head slowly, turning again to stare into the flames. "She'll be okay," the younger girl murmured and she strained to hear her. "Hari always is."

Hermione desperately wished for that to be true.