Disclaimer: I'm not even British, so how can I be J.K.R.?
A/N: It's been a while, I know, and there are other stories that need my attention more, but this is the one I feel like writing right now.
Hermione didn't even make it to the Gryffindor table. She walked into the Great Hall, glanced up at the enchanted ceiling, and stopped dead in her tracks. Where were the stars? The stars had gone. In their place was a swirling mess of dull red. Occasionally among the eddies of rust was a flash of yellowed white. The whole picture turned Hermione's stomach.
She could feel her knees beginning to buckle, and she reached for Ginny. The younger Gryffindor took her hand and followed her eyes. Feeling the exact moment when Ginny's hand clenched against hers in horror, Hermione turned her head to look at her friend. Ginny had blanched, but she stayed steady, stepping forward and guiding Hermione. Holding hands and looking down at their feet, the two reached their table at last and sank down.
The ordeal was over. Hermione looked up, and that happy illusion vanished. Draco Malfoy sat directly across from her at the Slytherin table. Goyle sat like a sadistic gargoyle on his left, but there was an empty seat to his right. In fact, there were empty seats all up and down the Slytherin table, seats representing far more students than were absent from any of the other three houses. But there sat Malfoy, cool and calm and crisp as ever, wearing the crest of the House of Malfoy over his school robes. She'd forgotten that he was the head of his house now. Sobered by the war, he resembled his father more than ever.
The only safe course was to look directly at her food. Hermione focused on her pumpkin juice. It at least looked cheerful. Hermione drank three glasses of it, and choked down a piece of bread with butter. At Ginny's urging, she took exactly eight peas, but managed only seven of them.
Sitting there, trying to enjoy herself, was so miserable that Hermione almost wished to be at home again. But really, Hogwarts was her home, and she knew that after she got over the shock of being back on a place she had last seen as a battlefield, she would be calmed. For now, she was just proud that she at last mustered up the courage to survey the first years as they were sorted. The Sorting last year had been a joke, and since the Board of Directors had declared the last school year null and void, there were twice as many small, big-eared boys and girls as usual.
The other difference was that half of the students being sorted didn't look bewildered and frightened. Hermione wondered what they did feel. Their previous year at Hogwarts must have been horrible, and it was a shame that torture and terror would be their first memories of the school. Much milder first-year remembrances of loneliness and longing for a place to belong had coloured her own school experience for the next five years.
The wave of disorientation that swept over Hermione was so strong that she was relieved when someone laid an anchoring hand on her shoulder. It was Professor McGonagall. Hermione hadn't even thought to look up at the staff table, but now she shot a glance. She recognised everybody but a plump woman and a small man with a brown comb-over.
Professor McGonagall favoured her with a tired smile. "Miss Granger, good to see you. I look forward to talking to you later, but at the moment I am here only to deliver a summons. The headmaster is about to give his speech. He has asked that you join him in his office when he finishes."
Hermione nodded. She had dealt with Professor Dumbledore for long enough to know that asking why he wanted her would do her no good. Dumbledore operated on a need-to-know basis. If he had thought that he could get her up to his office and hold a conversation with her without her ever knowing it was occurring, he would have done so.
Professor Dumbledore stood just as the Transfiguration professor sat down. He greeted them all, introduced the new staff members-the woman was the new Muggle Studies professor, a Professor Waters, and the man was the Defense against the Dark Arts professor. Hermione didn't catch his name because she was watching Snape's face to see how he felt about going back to teaching Potions. In fact, why was he still teaching at all? Harry was safe. He didn't need to do it anymore.
Ginny stood suddenly, and Dumbledore explained, "Because of the disruptions last year, our Head Boy and Head Girl will be sixth years. They may or may not reprise their duties next year. I assure you, both Miss Weasley and Mr. Marinack are quite capable of assisting you in any way you need.
"Now, a few matters of safety. We ask that you do not go in the Forbidden Forest, as it is forbidden for a reason." Hermione almost stopped listening at that point, but a moment later she was glad she hadn't. "We also ask that you maintain a safe distance from the lake, as the area around it is slippery, and there are rocks." Hermione looked at Ginny, who had taken her seat, and the redhead frowned back at her. That was new. Hermione wouldn't have said that the area around the lake was particularly hazardous.
"Also, please remember that students fourth year and under are required travel in groups of three or more anywhere outside the castle itself. We encourage older students to travel in pairs." Hermione's eyes narrowed. Of course, after the events of last year, the school administrators must be going to great lengths to reassure worried parents, but this seemed to be taking it a bit too far.
Dumbledore sat down, and dessert was served. Hermione couldn't have eaten more anyway, she she didn't mind when Professor Dumbledore rose and nodded farewell to his staff members, presumably about to head to his office to meet with her. She was a bit surprised that neither Professor Snape nor Professor McGonagall followed, though. Usually at least one of them attended his talks.
Hermione let thirty seconds lapse before she followed her headmaster. Still, she moved much faster than him, and she caught up to him at the top of a staircase. She matched her pace to his, but he didn't say anything until they were at the bottom of his stairs, whereupon he said "Blood lollipops," and the gargoyle turned. They ascended the steps slowly.
Dumbledore's office was drastically changed. The gadgets were gone, and so were the portraits of past headmasters. There remained only a neat desk with a stack of parchment on it, a perch whereon Fawkes was evidently sleeping and molting, and two squishy blue chairs. Hermione took the one before the desk, and Dumbledore sat down in the one behind it.
He asked her polite questions about her friends and she answered dutifully, but the only news in which he displayed any genuine interest was Harry's current situation. She said yes, Harry liked Auror training. Yes, Harry was still rooming with Ron. No, Harry didn't know whether he was going to be an actual Auror or simply go into a related field. About Hermione herself, Dumbledore asked little, though, to his credit, he did extend an offer to talk to her about her parents, who were having trouble forgiving Hermione for wiping their memories.
With the pleasantries out of the way, Dumbledore steepled his fingers and looked down his long, crooked nose at Hermione. "Miss Granger," he said, "to say that you have found your classes less than challenging would be something of an understatement. You have skated through six years at Hogwarts." He must have seen the offense in her eyes, because he added, "I did not mean to imply that you have not worked hard, only that I suspect you needn't have. You could have earned Es or Os with very little study, if I am not mistaken.
"You are an exceptionally bright young woman, Miss Granger, and the teachers and I have decided that your senior year merits an exceptional project. If you accept this project, it would be the sole basis for your evaluation this year. Your teachers have agreed to remove all requirements of work from you, but-" he raised his hand to quell the protest on her tongue, "-you would of course be permitted to audit whatever classes you chose.
"Make no mistake, Miss Granger. This would be a heavy burden. As I explain this project, I want you to bear in mind that it would require your nights, your weekends, and part of your Christmas holiday. However, by the end, you would have gained thorough knowledge of every subject taught at this school, and you would know something of many that are not offered here."
Hermione swallowed. She wished the headmaster could just be clear about his intent. "What exactly would this project entail, sir?"
He leaned forward a little. "The Ministry is concerned about the history of this building. It does, after all, have a secret basilisk chamber and a border with one of the darkest woods in magical Britain. To improve public relations, they want us to move to a new location." Hermione gasped, but Professor Dumbledore didn't pause.
"We have a chance to rebuild the school, to fix major problems in its design, and we want your help. You would work with each teacher to do various things in the building and contribute your own perspective as to what could be improved.
"As I have said, this would be a very demanding undertaking, particularly as we are operating under time constraints." He didn't say why that was, and Hermione filed the omission away for further study at a later date. "remember, though, that in addition to the knowledge gained, you would also have a network of contacts in a variety of fields and you would be in a position to do the Wizarding World a great service.
"You don't have to decide now."
Hermione waved that away. "I'll do it, sir." He looked surprised at her haste, but how could she not help? It sounded difficult, but she could already imagine the towers rising. Towers would rise that she, Muggleborn know-it-all teacher's-pet Hermione Granger, had helped to create. "I'll do it," she repeated. She wasn't sure she liked leaving Hogwarts, but if it had to be done, she would be a part of it.
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Very well. Take these two sheets and peruse them at your leisure. One of them is a starting point for the project itself, and another is an outline of your duties. I'm afraid that one may be rather exhaustive and tedious; Professor Snape handled that particular task." His eyes twinkled, and Hermione grinned. She could only imagine what Snape thought about working with her.
As Dumbledore began to straighten the parchment on his desk, Hermione saw that she had been dismissed. She got up, clutching the two lists in one hand, and left silently.
Walking through bars of light and dark on her way to the Gryffindor tower, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that something as odd about the castle, but it wasn't until she reached the spot where the Fat Lady should have been that she realised what it was. There were no portraits anywhere in the castle. Not on the ground floor, not between the Great Hall and Dumbledore's office, and not between that office and the tower.
There were no portraits. The lake was off-limits. Students were advised not to walk alone. And in the Great Hall, all the stars had gone.