It had taken Hermione 15 minutes to reach the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where she picked up the path that would eventually lead her around the lake and back toward Hagrid's hut. She had forgotten just how vast Hogwarts' grounds were. It certainly would have saved time to walk up near the castle, but she was afraid of who … or what … might be waiting for her there.

No, it was safer to take the long route. And from the message the boys had sent over the galleon, it was going to take them quite a while to reach their destination anyway. After all, the courtyard where they had been fighting was located on the farthest edge of the castle, on the opposite side from where Hagrid's place was situated. It would take time for them to cover such a distance.

The further away from the battle she walked, the calmer she felt. She had a plan, and Harry and Ron were okay, for now. She could afford to breathe a little more easily. But with that calm came extreme fatigue and pain. I guess adrenaline is good for something – it's just too bad it wears off, she thought with a grimace as her hexed left shoulder throbbed with increasing intensity and exhaustion swirled around her like a muddy river.

She stopped to stretch and yawn, and fished around in her ever-present beaded bag for a square of medicinal chocolate and the nearly empty vial of dittany. It felt indulgent to use these precious resources, but she reasoned that it made sense to care for herself now so that she would be ready for whatever lay ahead, and besides, it would only take a little bit of each to make a big difference in how she felt.

She popped the chocolate in her mouth and closed her eyes for moment, enjoying the warmth, strength and sense of wellbeing that washed over her. Then, opening her eyes again, she reached over to assess the injury on her shoulder.

crack—

Hermione froze, right hand in mid-air, and listened.

crack—

There it was again, the sound of something moving in the forest, just beyond her field of vision.

crack—

Hermione swiftly dropped the unopened dittany back into her bag and drew her wand. Something was moving closer, and she wasn't about to stick around to find out what it was. She moved to cast a disillusionment charm on herself when, suddenly, her wand flew out of her hand.

"Would you look at what we 'ave 'ere! A young lass, all by her lonesome."

The shadows at the edge of the forest slowly resolved into the form of three wizards, none of whom smelled like they'd had a bath in weeks. The taller of the three stepped forward and lit his wand, shining it in her face

"Why, 'ello again, beautiful. Let's see … what was your name? Ah, Clearwater, wasn't it? Penelope Clearwater. You just can't get enough of me, can you, love?" He bared his teeth in what almost passed for a seductive smile, and his companions laughed.

Hermione's eyes widened as she recognized the Snatcher who had found the trio and dragged them to Malfoy Manor over a year ago. She chanced a glance around the area, but didn't see anyone else.

"You was the girl with Scarhead and his sidekick, wasn't you? I'm surprised Malfoy let you get away, fine young thing like you. But I guess you wasn't important enough for the Dark Lord. Oh well, 'is loss, my gain."

He made to step toward her, but she took a step back. She would have run, but with no wand … well, she'd stay and take her chances on outsmarting them to get her wand back. And besides, they didn't seem to realize who she really was.

The Snatcher saw her balk at his approach and sneered. "Look boys, she's shy! Poor thing."

With a lecherous laugh, he reached out more quickly than she would have thought possible and grabbed her arms, pulling her close and burying his nose in her hair.

"Don't worry, beautiful. Ol' Scabior's gonna take good care of you. Real good care." His tongue snaked out of his mouth and traced her ear.

Nearly sickened by his actions, his foul breath and the pain that lanced through her shoulder, Hermione turned her head away, and quick as a flash, she raised her right knee with all her might, landing it square in his groin. With a howl, he dropped her arms and fell to the ground. His goons, somewhat slow on the uptake, just stared at him and wondered what had happened.

Hermione seized her chance and ran to the edge of the forest. Looking frantically around, she spotted a fallen tree limb and seized it before turning back to the three wizards. Taking a mighty swing, she hit the one closest to her just as he turned to see where she went. The branch connected with his skull with a sickening thud, and he joined his comrade on the ground.

Before she could rear back for another swing, the last Snatcher pulled his wand and threw a curse at the limb, splintering it and causing her to drop her hold on it. Knowing he had the upper hand, she turned back toward the forest, intending to escape into the shadows. But before she could move more than a few feet, the stocky wizard shot another spell toward her and magical bonds flew out of his wand and wrapped around her arms and legs. Her momentum carried her forward and she fell flat onto her face with a screech, unable to break her fall. Something sharp – a rock, perhaps – scraped her forehead, and she could feel blood start to trickle from the wound.

"Listen 'ere, missy. You're gonna regret that, mark my words!" growled the Snatcher as he knelt beside her and grabbed her hair, causing her to whimper. But before he could make his next move, he hissed in pain and let go of her hair to clutch his left arm. The one called Scabior also groaned and hauled himself to his feet, holding his groin with his left hand and rubbing his left arm with his right hand.

"Looks like … 'e's calling … us back … lads … and we'd … better … hurry," Scabior said in a hoarse voice between gasps. He clearly hadn't recovered from his run-in with one very bony knee.

"But what about the girl?" said the shorter wizard.

"Leave her. She ain't going nowhere like that." He sucked in a deep breath in an effort to control his pain and turned his head toward Hermione before continuing. "We can come back for 'er later. And believe me … we will come back. We've got unfinished business 'ere, 'aven't we, love?"

The two wizards turned to their colleague, who lay unconscious on the ground. They each grabbed an arm before all three disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.

Hermione lay flat on the ground, unable to move more than her head, feet and fingers. Well, this is just great, Hermione. What will your next brilliant move be?

She decided her first order of business would be to get her face out of the damp leaves and who knew what else on the forest floor. With what little movement she had, she began to rock her body back and forth in an attempt to roll onto her back.

It took a few minutes, as well as several unlady-like grunts and groans, but she finally managed to gain enough momentum to roll onto her back. She closed her eyes and lay still for a few minutes to catch her breath, but when she opened her eyes again, she gasped.

There, filling her entire field of vision, was a magnificent centaur. He stood stock-still and stared down at her as though assessing whether she was friend or foe. After a moment, he cocked his head, flicked his tail and spoke as calmly as one would discuss the weather.

"You are in danger."

Hermione nearly rolled her eyes, but caught herself just in time. She stayed silent, but her thoughts rattled in her head. You think so? Huh. I hadn't noticed. Why, I was just enjoying an evening in the forest. Tied in ropes. On the ground. With blood in my eyes. How kind of you to notice.

The centaur continued to stare at her, and after another moment, he spoke again.

"The war between wizards will not end at dawn. However, there is one who will conquer Evil with the help of another. Dark and Light will heal our world. The enemy and the hero will join their power. The stars have foretold it."

At this, Hermione strained her head forward. "Yes! Harry will conquer Evil! You speak of the prophecy, of course. We know this already. So, you're saying we'll be victorious? If not tonight, when?"

The centaur cocked his head again, then looked up to the heavens for what seemed an eternity. Just as the silence became too much for Hermione, he turned back toward her.

"We know the prophecy of which you speak. We follow the destinies of wizards, for often those destinies are intertwined with our own. But there is more to Seeing than mere prophecy. One must listen to the stars sing, hear the forest speak and understand the river as it flows."

He paused to scrutinize her again before continuing. "You are different. Unlike many of your kind, you understand your place within the larger world of magical creatures. None are higher or lower than others, yet all have their place, as you have learned. Yours is an intellect unlike most. You will See. He will See."

"See what? What do you mean? Who? Explain!" Hermione's eyes narrowed as she tried to make sense of this new information.

"You will See," repeated the centaur. He withdrew a spear and lowered it to Hermione's neck. Her eyes widened in fear, but before she could respond, he drew the spear down the length of her body and severed the magical bonds, which fell away and disappeared.

Hermione sat up, rubbing her wrists and staring up at the centaur. She opened her mouth to ask again what he meant. "What—?"

"Daughter of man, blessed with great power, do not be afraid. There is much pain ahead, but there is one who can help. Open your mind, and your path will become clear. Continue your journey in peace. Farewell."

He turned and, in a flurry of hooves and tail, disappeared into the forest.

Hermione stared after him, stunned by what had just happened. No matter how long I spend in the magical world, I'm never quite prepared for what happens. Bloody centaurs and their bloody riddles.

With that, she shook her head and hauled herself to her feet. Aside from the cut on her forehead, the incident with the Snatchers had left her unharmed. And wandless, she reminded herself. She had learned a few basic wandless spells, but unless someone wanted her to conjure up some bluebell flames or bring water to a boil, that wasn't going to help much.

On the off chance that maybe someone had lost a wand in the struggle, she searched the area, even dropping to her hands and knees to run a hand through the long grass. Aside from a sturdy twig that made her heart leap with hope only to fall in despair, there was nothing.

Resigned to being defenseless for the time being – and thankful that she still had her beaded bag – Hermione once again set off to meet the boys.

The rest of the walk around the edge of the castle grounds was uneventful, but her heart was heavy with the words of the centaur. The war won't end at dawn. But can we survive another day like this?

At some point, she realized that the air was still – there were no sounds of battle to be heard in any direction. Perhaps Voldemort recalled all of his forces, not just the Snatchers, she thought. Maybe the Order is regrouping.

That thought made her double her pace, even breaking into a jog on the flat stretch around the lake. The giant squid blinked an enormous eye as it watched her progress, then slid below the surface of the water with a ripple, waving a giant tentacle as it went.

The sun gradually climbed above the horizon, making it easier to see the path in front of her. As it cleared the trees, the sun illuminated Hogwarts in a glorious display of golden light. It would have been utterly breathtaking, but Hermione's stomach clenched at the sight of the once beautiful castle now nearly in ruins thanks to the extreme damage it had sustained during the battle. Entire sections of the ancient castle had collapsed, and smoke drifted lazily from the remains of several fires. Her heart ached as she thought about the terrible losses both sides had sustained. So many people, so many families, destroyed for the sake of their beliefs.

As she neared the final rise before her destination, the air around her seemed to ripple and crackle. Hogwarts' wards! But according to Hogwarts, A History, those can only be adjusted by the Headmaster or his Deputy. Was it Snape or McGonagall, then?

Interrupting that thought was a sudden crack, not unlike a Muggle sonic boom, that rang out over the grounds, causing Hermione to flinch. In the distance she saw a cloud of birds rise into the air.

Something's happened! she thought. Running forward, she crested the hill and meant to cover the remaining distance at a sprint. But the sight before her made her stop short. There, across the lawn between her and what was left of Hagrid's hut, as well as beyond – as far as she could see in the other direction – were bodies. So many bodies! The ground was pockmarked by craters left by errant spells, and the grass was dark and wet with … is that blood?

Quickly scanning the area, she couldn't see any movement. There was no sound except the wind gently rustling the trees in the distance. Cautiously stepping forward, she approached the first grouping. Oh God! They're all dead!

Bile rose in her throat as she took in the sight. Every single body was horribly mutilated, save for their faces. So many faces – the Creevey brothers! Professor Vector! And there's Dean, sweet sweet Dean!

She moved ahead to the next pile, and the next, each more horrific than the last. Panic began to rise. What if Harry and Ron—

That thought had her running, a low moan rising in her throat. No! No no no! Not Harry and Ron! Please, not Harry and Ron! Oh God, no!

She skidded to a halt, grabbed her galleon and sent a message to warn them, then she waited, willing the galleon to burn with a response. Nothing. Nothing! C'mon, answer me!

She ran forward again, nearly blinded by tears, only to trip over an outstretched arm that lay across her path. She landed with a sickening squelch in a pool of partially congealed blood. Scrambling back, she saw that the arm belonged to Lavender Brown's body, which had clearly been ravaged by something unholy – werewolf, most likely.

A strangled scream escaped her, and she struggled back to her feet. Turning back toward Hagrid's, she scanned for a head of messy black hair or bright ginger hair – anything that looked like her two best friends.

Suddenly, her eyes landed on what looked like a figure propped upright against a pole of some kind. And at its feet, another pile of bodies, all sporting hair the color of autumn.

Hermione staggered forward, almost afraid of what she might find. "No," she whispered. But that whisper turned to an anguished scream as she drew close enough to see that it was indeed her beloved friends.

Harry was pinned to a horrible wooden cross, eyes wide and lifeless, blood covering nearly every part of his body. Near his feet was a pile of ashes and bone fragments, along with, oh God, Ron's shoe! And to the right, a pile of homespun woolen sweaters and the beautiful faces of her adopted family.

The magnitude of this discovery was beyond anything she could comprehend, and she sank to her knees, keening loudly and unaware that she knelt in the blood of her dear friend Harry, her hands clutching his legs and her forehead pressed into his knees.

Without warning, the spikes holding his body to the wooden structure flew out and dropped to the ground, leaving his body to slump forward over Hermione, knocking her to the ground. She spluttered and struggled to move his dead weight off of her, finally settling on holding him to her as she sat, screaming unintelligibly through her tears.

Her screams turned to sobs, and only when the worst had passed did she become aware of a presence behind her. Snapping her mouth shut in surprise, she whirled around and came face to face with two figures in masks and robes. One was short and squat, with a rather large belly making his robes part like two forks of a river. He had his wand aimed at her. The other was tall and broad, with thick, meaty arms crossed in front of his barrel chest, wand clutched in one gloved hand and iron stakes held loosely in the other.

"I thought you'd appreciate the fact that I arranged a reunion with your friend," said the taller of the two. "But you sure are making a lot of noise – enough to raise the dead, I'd say … except that obviously it's not."

At that, both Death Eaters sniggered. Then the tall one continued, "I'd rather you save your screams for later, if you know what I mean. "

Hermione closed her eyes, tears leaking from the corners and streaming down her dirt and blood covered face. She'd barely escaped a few dim-witted Snatchers, and only then with the help of a centaur. But now, she was staring down the wands of two fully trained Death Eaters, with the knowledge that Harry, Ron and virtually everyone else she had ever known were now dead. And Voldemort must still be alive.

We've lost! The prophecy … it was wrong! The centaur said the war wouldn't end, but it has, and Voldemort is the victor. We failed. I failed!

"Kill me now."

"I'm sorry, love. I didn't quite catch that."

"I said, kill me now. You … you've already taken everything from me. You got what you wanted."

"Well, now. That's where you're wrong, see. We 'aven't taken everything from you. There's one thing left, and I aim to get it." With a disgusting leer, the taller wizard dropped the spikes, reached forward and grabbed Hermione by the chin, roughly pulling her to her feet.

Just as his other hand dove for the waistband of her jeans, a figure black as night shimmered into view as a disillusionment charm faded. "That will do, Jugson."

At the sound of the distinctive voice of his superior, Jugson released Hermione, who slumped back to the ground, and took two steps back. Both he and his companion sheathed their wands and lowered their eyes from Severus Snape's gaze.

"Explain."

Immediately, the dumpy wizard started babbling. "Well, sir, you see, sir, Jugson wanted to get a piece for 'imself, see, and I tried to stop 'im, I did. But 'e wouldn't listen, sir, wouldn't listen to reason. I says we shouldn't be lingering 'ere, that we should get back to the castle, but 'e wouldn't listen, sir. That's the truth, honest to Merlin."

Staring daggers at his cohort, Jugson stepped forward to defend himself, but before he got two words out of his mouth, Snape interrupted him with a glare. "Silence. It is a pity you would not listen, Jugson. Selwynn understands his place. It would do you well to understand yours."

Then Snape turned toward Hermione, who stared up at him in utter shock, and continued, "You see, it is the prerogative of those in command to determine the fates of our ... less fortunate enemies. Having had to put up with this particular know-it-all's antics for more years than I care to recall, I think I will enjoy putting her in her place and silencing her once and for all."

He reached a long arm down and grabbed a hank of Hermione's hair, giving it a sharp pull as he dragged her to her knees. She yelped in pain and instinctively reached her hands up to pull on his arm, trying to relieve some of the pressure on her scalp.

Unbuttoning his fly with his free hand, he opened his trousers before her, leaving no doubt as to his intentions. Jugson and Selwynn watched with no small amount of jealousy as their superior made to take what they themselves had wanted. They just wished they had a better view, but they didn't dare move.

Snape grabbed her right hand and pulled it toward his open trousers. Her eyes filled anew with tears and her face burned with humiliation at the thought of what was about to happen, but she couldn't pull away. He was simply too strong.

But as he drew her hand near his body, rather than shoving it in his pants, he diverted it to his open fly, forcing her fingers to close around the third button. Just then, he wrenched her head back, looked into her teary eyes and murmured, "Stupefy."

The last things Hermione knew before darkness closed in were a vision of a phoenix, a pair of onyx eyes and a tugging sensation, like a hook behind her navel, as she was dragged through space and time.