Her Fourth Postcard
Forbidden Forest
"And that concludes today's lecture on the ministry of Cornelius Fudge. Before you all leave, I would like to remind you that the quiz for this week's reading is now posted online. Make sure it's completed by Friday, unless you want to risk losing marks for this course."
As their professor concludes the lecture, Hermione shuts her laptop and unplugs the charger beneath her seat. Stowing both items away in her bag, she prepares to leave the auditorium. While leaving, she notices Luna making her way up the stairs from the lower aisles.
Although they don't interact much (as Hermione generally steers clear of individuals who believe in 'crystal healing' and other New Age practices), and really, she cannot cope listening to theories on the cryptids supposedly residing in Surrey, she knew that, despite her reservations, Luna may just have the perspective she needs. She had to speak with her.
"Um, thanks," says Hermione, feeling self-conscious now. She hoped this wasn't a mistake, and that she didn't come across as some wayward maniac as they sat across each other in the university's cafe. Luna was watching her expectantly.
Hermione palms her cup of coffee on the table. "It's just…Look, I don't believe in the things I'm about to discuss, but at the same time I…don't feel comfortable talking about this with others."
"That's okay, Hermione. I appreciate that you have chosen me to talk about whatever it is," Luna replies, untangling a radish-shaped earring from her wavy blonde hair.
Hermione nods, and continues. "I want to ask, do you believe that old or ancient places hold something? I mean like, do other…'beings' live there, for a lack of a better word?" She chews her bottom lip, awaiting her reply.
Luna gives a thoughtful, earnest expression. "Spirits reside in such places, and I believe that, certainly. But most of all I also believe that there's much in this world that cannot be explained."
Hermione observes the grounds outside the cafe through the window. It was beginning to rain. "Do such 'spirits', as you say, have the potential to harm us?"
A curious expression crosses Luna's face. "If they are annoyed or angered, yes, or if they form any sort of attachment to humans."
Hermione does not reply, and fiddles with a napkin, tearing it in strips from the corner.
"And how would you even know if it's a spirit that's after you? How can you prove such things, Luna? What if it's entirely something else?"
This time, Luna gives no response, and instead she reaches across the table and places her hands on Hermione's, her gaze sympathetic.
"What is it that's bothering you, Hermione? Spirits don't directly cause harm unless provoked. But if it's a particularly malevolent spirit, then they can bother or hurt humans. Where did you come across this spirit, or spirits?"
She was not about to divulge about Hogwarts University. She did not feel easy revealing that information just yet. Because despite everything, she did not think that it was related to Hogwarts, at all.
Hermione shakes her head, and gives a short laugh to diffuse her anxiety. "No where, really, just some abandoned house I decided to enter, so stupid of me."
Luna doesn't smile, and Hermione had the distinct feeling that she saw right through her lie. She ignores the unsettling sensation.
"Thank you for your concern, Luna," Hermione says, picking her bag off the floor and standing up. "But just to clarify, I'm still not convinced about the ideas of 'spirits', and I don't believe that there's anything that cannot be solved with enough investigation."
"You don't have to believe in it for it to be real. It's fair for you to hold to your beliefs, though."
That was true. And as much as she said that she doesn't believe in the supernatural, the ideas had taken root in her mind, just slightly. Considering it an open possibility, but not the exact justification.
With another quick thanks and a good-bye, Hermione leaves the cafe.
Later that day, Hermione works her shift at the book store, Flourish and Blotts.
She scans an elderly lady's book on recipes, her thoughts pensive as she hears a beep followed by the red flash of the barcode scanner.
The shop was quiet, and so she does not have much to distract herself with. Without thought, her eyes flicker to the calendar on the wall. A few more days before the post arrives.
She forces herself to look away.
It did not bode well for her to obsessively focus on mundane things.
The curtains stay drawn over her windows at all times now. Crookshanks isn't allowed to go outside, either.
It was courteous of Ginny to offer staying at her place. But she had to decline it for the time being, as it would arouse suspicion among everyone. A couple of days of sleepover were normal, but weeks worth of 'staying over' signified greater problems.
Hermione was half-convinced to throw away the next postcard into the rubbish bin when it finally arrives into her mailbox. She gives the envelope a once-over, and stands at the kitchen bin. If she doesn't see or read any more of the content, it won't affect her as much, or at all, right?
And yet, she could not bring herself to do so as she enters the lounge room. It felt impossible, the weight of the card in her hands felt heavy. Her fingers were numb despite the warmth from the heater.
She almost rips apart the envelope. It was always so bloody inconspicuously white.
The torn pieces of paper fall to the floor, and she holds in her hands the postcard, and—another Polaroid.
It depicts a ring on a black, velvet cloth. A gold band embedded with a small flower in the middle, surrounded by minuscule cubic zirconia. Two stones were missing from it.
It was her ring.
She remembers now, and she had not remembered earlier, in fact she had forgotten about her ring entirely. But now, she knows, and that she had taken it off and left it at the sink when washing her hands after handling the old texts in the castle.
Hermione could not keep standing for any longer, and slowly, she lowers onto the armchair.
She was shaking. Her parched mouth was pleading for water, but she had no appetite to do so.
The postcard featured the Forbidden Forest near Hogwarts. It was so-called 'forbidden' because the students were not allowed to enter it back when the university was running. Just like the Hogsmeade postcard, she owned no copy of it.
She turns the card over, and reads.
Dearest Hermione,
I know it must pain you to know that you left an object of value at the castle. But every action has a purpose, and the purpose of this beautiful ring being left by the sink was for it to be safeguarded by me. Do not worry, Hermione, I will have the two stones replaced with the highest quality of cubic zirconia. It will be whole once again, and I will never allow it to be lost ever again. I will keep it safe by my side and I will remember you always, my dear, dear Hermione. I think, so often, and I dream, even more so, of what I want to do with you. Oh, the things I would do to you. I won't describe in detail, just yet. But soon, in due time, you will be privy to my innermost desires, my dreams, my hopes.
—L.V
Vision blurred, chest heaving, Hermione claps a hand to her mouth. She won't scream, she cannot scream, and she won't, she will not, be affected in such a way. A few stray tears flow down her cheeks anyway.
Who was this person, or thing? What did they want with her, and why? How long was she going to be intimidated by maliciously sentimental letters? Not before she goes insane.
She texts Ginny, and awaits her response. She had to come over and stay, damn what anyone thought.
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