Hermione felt tears pool in her eyes as the portrait swung shut behind her friend, leaving her alone with the Headmaster, whose bright blue eyes had lost their merry sparkle and were replaced with a grave, almost desperate look. "I can't," she whimpered, shocked such a broken sound had rippled from her own lips and clamping her lips shut. "I can't do it."

The sounds just seemed to automatically slip from her mouth, almost as if something in his eyes had made her relent and give in to the sobbing mass she should have been by then. "Yes, you can," said Dumbledore fiercely, gripping her elbows and shaking her slightly, looking deeper and deeper into her mind. "We wish to help you, Hermione, you need to let us!"

She shook her head and he pushed his crooked nose toward her face, glaring fiercely down at the shaking witch. "I w-won't! I won't let people die for me again! I won't!" He looked down at her almost sympathetically, yet his grip tightened all the more.

"From what you had said yesterday evening, we will all die anyway if you don't tell us how to defeat the Dark Lord!" bellowed Dumbledore; his face was the most alive, fiery almost, it had ever been in her presence and his eyes seemed to glow with their own ferocity that had reared up out of nowhere. "You must tell us so we can create the world we deserve! We must save what is left of this good earth! And to do so, we need you!"

Hermione sobbed openly as the older wizard looked down his crooked nose at her, clutching her arms around her torso and closing her eyes. "I can't let people die! Not again!"

Dumbledore nodded fiercely. "Then tell me! Hermione, you must tell me! We must save what is left of this god forsaken world!"

"NO!" shouted Hermione, standing up and prising herself out of his grip. "I will not have more people than necessary know and go down with this hell! I will either die in the end or come out victorious, and I want either way for everyone I have come to love to live!"

Her Headmaster nodded fiercely, grabbing her arms and standing up beside her, his face so close to hers she almost backed down; however, she stood where she was and glared defiantly up at him, valiantly showing her Gryffindor pride. "And if you don't tell us, we will all die in a futile attempt at putting things right! You cannot tell us not to save this world for the people we love and you cannot tell us not to stand our ground for what we believe in! There will always be people like us! You need to see that you are this world's only hope as being the light that shines through the darkness! We need this information, Miss Granger, and we are willing to use force to save this damned world!"

Hermione glared up at him, her lip trembling and her face pale, but she nonetheless stood her ground. "I will always be the light that shines through the darkness, sir, because there is no chance I will ever stop shining. The magic in me does not die when it is weakened, because what does not kill you makes you stronger." She sighed, relaxing as more tears slid down her pale cheeks. "But I will tell the Order about the future and the fates this world will bring them. You have won, Headmaster, but I don't guarantee that you will win every time."

"Thank you, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore quietly, taking her by the shoulders and pushing her in front of him toward the portrait. She allowed him to push her gently to the foot of the staircase, where a curious statue granted them entry.

She paused outside the door, her hand wavering on the doorknob as she turned it, but one stern glance from the Headmaster told her to continue. Hermione pushed open the door and walked into the silent room full of people whose chatter had stopped immediately when she and Dumbledore had walked in.

"You have briefed them?" said Hermione coldly, taking the nearest seat and avoiding everyone's eyes as she looked into the Headmaster's. He nodded and she inhaled, letting the air leave her lungs for a moment before exhaling, sighing slightly. "As you all know, I am from the future. Does anyone know which year?"

One woman, with long, blonde hair and a kind, pale face, her hazel eyes huge as she nodded. "Albus has told us you are from 1998. But what I don't see is how."

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know either," she said carefully, avoiding everyone trying to catch her eye with a cold demeanour. She turned to them again, meeting the same hazel eyes that belonged to James Potter. "My name is Hermione Jean Granger, born on September 19th, 1979. I'm nineteen."

"And they let you join the seventh years to do your NEWTs again?" asked Marlene McKinnon sceptically, making the young witch smile and nod.

"I never did my NEWTs – come to think of it, I never attended my seventh year, either," she replied truthfully, shrugging. "Harry and Ron had to talk me out of dragging them back to Hogwarts, though, so I wasn't really happy about it. But I wouldn't have had it any other way now – because it helped defeat Voldemort."

Marlene McKinnon and the Prewett twins leaned forward eagerly, looking pleased, while the others exchanged weary glances. "How could three seventeen year old children missing their last year be of any help to us?" snarled Caradoc Dearborn slightly aggressively, but Dorcas Meadowes impatiently shushed him and leaned forward.

Hermione couldn't stop herself from laughing. "We were a lot more than three seventeen year old children, Dearborn, and we were the ones who actually defeated Voldemort, so I'd shut up if I were you and just hear me out."

Caradoc Dearborn looked as if he was about to argue, as did many others, but the three young girls shushed them. Marlene McKinnon, Mary MacDonald, and Dorcas Meadowes all looked eagerly at her, beaming.

"I'm going to tell you the story of Tom Riddle," said Hermione slowly, "and the demonic psychopath he grew up to be. Tom Riddle's mother was a pureblooded witch with Gaunt blood, descended from Salazar Slytherin himself. They were a poor family, however pure their lineage was, and they lived in a shack on top of a hill, not too far from Little Hangleton.

"Merope Gaunt watched a muggle named Tom Riddle ride past every day, and soon she grew to love him. She continuously brewed love potions and fed them to this muggle and together they married and had a son. But three weeks into her pregnancy Merope felt it right to stop feeding her muggle husband the love potion, and he left her for another woman. She ran away from home after her father kicked her out for mating with a muggle.

"She gave birth to Tom Riddle Junior in a small pub, where she later died during her son's birth. Tom grew up in a muggle orphanage, terrorising the other children because they teased him for killing his mother. He was brought to Hogwarts by Albus Dumbledore, who gave him home until he was sorted into Slytherin. Tom soon found out about his heritage, and hated the world for giving him such a bad life. He blamed his father, who he killed later on in his life.

"He hated muggles because they had hated him, and he soon fashioned a new name for himself." She paused, reaching for her wand and inscribing the words 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' in the air. Many drew in deep breaths when she rearranged them to 'I am Lord Voldemort'. "Lord Voldemort graduated Hogwarts and rose to power.

"Voldemort made seven Horcruxes in my time, though now it should be only five." Shocked gasps rang out the room, and many stared at her as though she had grown three heads as well as a giraffe's neck. "And one of them he made unwillingly.

"You see, there was a Prophecy made shortly after this year by Sybill Trelawney, who was being interviewed for the Divination Professor's post for next year. She told of a boy born at the end of July, who would defeat the Dark Lord himself. She said neither could live while the other survives. Albus attempted to keep this hidden, but what he hadn't known until later, there was a Death Eater just outside his door. Thankfully, there were only two possible choices for young Severus Snape – tell his master, or switch to the Order. He was not planning on joining the losing side, you see, so he told Lord Voldemort of the Prophecy and soon the Dark Lord was on rampage, seeking out every boy born at the end of July.

"Lily and James Potter's son, Harry, was born at the end of July, 1980. He had messy, jet black hair and his mother's bright emerald eyes. Alice and Frank Longbottom's son, Neville, was also born at the end of July, 1980."

Frank Longbottom inhaled sharply, very white in the face, and buried his face in his hands; Dorea Potter looked as if she was going to faint she was clutching her husband's arm so tightly; and Charlus Potter looked as if he was trying not to throw up.

"Lord Voldemort ordered his most trusted servants – Bellatrix, Rabastan, and Rudolphus Lestrange – to torture information out of the Longbottom's. Thankfully, Neville was with his Grandmother when the three Death Eaters burst into their small house on the edge of Godric's Hollow, but Frank and Alice were not so lucky.

"Frank and Alice did not give any information to the Death Eaters, and refused to let them know where the Order was, so the three Death Eaters tortured them into insanity," Hermione paused, letting the information sink in, making Frank stand up and leave the room. The room's occupants were in uproar; the twins were shouting at her, Dumbledore and Moody looked very grave, the three girls were crying, and the majority of the room was silent. Finally, after a good few minutes, the twins had stopped shouting and Frank had returned, looking green, and Hermione was able to start once more.

"So, this left Lily and James Potter. Voldemort knew Harry would be the one who would defeat him; because he saw some of himself in little baby Harry. They were both half-bloods, and he thought that if he managed to eradicate him, there would be no chance of his defeat. Thankfully, he didn't have to torture anybody, because there had been a spy in the Order of the Phoenix for quite a while. Peter Pettigrew had been feeding Voldemort information because he was too cowardly, too eager for powerful friends, to stand up for himself. The worst thing was, when the Potter's had gone into hiding, they had gone under the Fidelius Charm – and Peter Pettigrew was their Secret Keeper.

"Voldemort crashed into the Potter's home on Halloween, 1981, after pulling the information out of Peter, who really hadn't been that reluctant. Upon his entering, James Potter pushed his wife and child up the stairs and threw himself in front of the staircase and refused to move. Both Lily and James were wandless, and had no way of escaping the house without killing themselves and their son. James stood no chance against Voldemort, and he knew this, but blocked the stairway and refused to move unless he was killed. His opponent caught on, and killed him.

"He pushed on upstairs to the nursery, where Lily had barricaded the door and was trying to find a way out. However, she knew it was futile, and when Voldemort burst in, she shielded Harry from Voldemort, refusing to move, like her husband. When she was killed, an old magic buried deep within time was revoked, and a display of Lily's love was pushed between Voldemort and Harry.

"When Voldemort fired the killing curse at Harry, the curse rebounded and struck Voldemort himself."

Hermione looked up, choking on tears once more, and faced the silent room around her. Marlene was sniffling loudly and trying not to cry; Mary was sobbing openly beside Benjy Fenwick, who held her slightly uncomfortably while attempting not to start sobbing himself; Dorcas and Caradoc were clutching the other's hand tightly, white in the face and eyes wide; Dumbledore looked stricken while Moody looked slightly proud of the two adults in the house that night; Frank had stood up and left the room again, and there was a distinct sound of crashing outside; the twins had gone silent, their freckles standing out against their deathly pale faces.

Finally, she shifted her gaze toward the two Potter's. Dorea was sobbing loudly, clutching her chest and almost whispering while she repeated "Not Jamie, not Jamie," over and over, while Charlus looked horrified and pale.

"I'm sorry," said Hermione automatically, her voice betraying the shaking, quivering, broken girl she was inside as she stood up and made to leave the room. However, a hand catching on her wrist stopped her and she looked up into Frank's worried face.

"Nothing for you to be sorry for," said Gideon loudly from behind them as Frank towed Hermione back into the silent room. Many were nodding determinedly, while others agreed. "And how do you know this, anyway? I would think the Ministry would have been very hush-hush about it."

Hermione laughed, surprising the room. "Hagrid retrieved Harry from the ruins of the house," she winced, "and gave him to Dumbledore – after that, he joined Rosmerta in the
Three Broomstick's and drunk himself stupid. He let slip to the whole pub that Voldemort was gone and the Potter's were dead. Rosmerta told me in the aftermath of the war all about it while the Weasley's were with Fred at St Mungo's and Harry and I were sitting in what was left of the Great Hall. He was crying about it for weeks afterwards, she said."

Frank offered her a small smile. "Is Hagrid a part of the Order?"

"Yes," replied Hermione instantly, brightening a bit. "He was one of the best during the Final Battle. He convinced most of the giants to fight for us and got most of the Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest to, too. He also killed around twenty Death Eaters before…"

"Before what?" asked Dumbledore, looking slightly horrified.

"The Acromantula he hadn't managed to convince for us killed him," Hermione choked out a second later. "I – I'm sorry for making s-such a big f-fuss but Hagrid w-was the one w-who comforted m-me after M-Malfoy called me a M-Mudblood for the first t-time and w-we were always f-friends after that. Harry c-cried for h-hours b-because he w-was the first o-one who didn't s-seem to see him as the Boy-Who-Lived. We b-barely got h-him back from t-trying to enter t-the Forbidden Forest t-to kill the spiders t-that did it."

Dorea looked up at her after a moment of silence before asking, "How bad was the world you lived in?"

Yay! Five Chapters! Woo!

Love,

Marlene