Chapter Two: History in the Making
This could be one of those memories
We wanna hold on to, cling to, the one we can't forget
- History in the Making, by Darius Rucker
Platform nine and three-quarters was in chaos. Hermione remembered the insanity that always ensued when sending off the students of Hogwarts, but this was something else entirely. More grateful than ever that Ginny was with her, Hermione led the way through the tear-stained faces of parents sending off their children for the first time since Hogwarts was nearly destroyed.
"This is madness!" Ginny exclaimed as they wound their way through the thick crowd of people. "I wasn't expecting it to be so...so..."
"Busy?" Hermione suggested lamely. "Parents are still frightened for their children, it's a wonder your mum didn't come to see us off."
"She only stayed because Ron and Harry were coming," Ginny replied. "And she cannot bear to leave the house with George still locked away in his room."
Hermione felt that familiar tug of sorrow pull at her stomach and said nothing. The loss was still too fresh in their minds to warrant a comment. The battle, could it have only been months before? It felt like another lifetime ago, like a movie she only vaguely remembered watching as a child. Only a place as magical as Hogwarts could be nearly destroyed and still be full of enough energy to start rebuilding itself after the dust had cleared. Hermione herself, along with all of the older students, teachers, and various other adult witches and wizards had seen to the rebuilding of the great school. Apparently there were spells and enchantments inside the very stones of Hogwarts that aided the process of rebuilding. Before long the school was once again tall and proud.
Hermione and Ginny dashed onto the Hogwarts Express and quickly found a compartment empty of any other students. Hermione let Crookshanks leap out of her arms and curl up on a seat while she turned to the door and whispered a few choice spells.
"For privacy," she explained when Ginny cocked an eyebrow at her.
"That's a lot of wand work," Ginny commented.
"Habit," Hermione said flatly. To be truthful, it took a great amount of restraint on Hermione's part to keep from throwing up the entire arsenal of wards that had kept her, Harry, and Ron safe on their travels the previous year. Hermione still slept with her wand within arm's reach, as well as all the locking spells she knew on her bedroom door. She wouldn't admit it to anyone but her two best friends, but she had turned into an incredibly paranoid individual, and rightly so.
Ginny wisely chose not to comment and lowered herself onto one of the cushioned seats. Hermione joined opposite her and Crookshanks immediately jumped into her lap. Hermione lazily scratched the fluffy cat behind the ear and stared out the window, willing the train to begin moving.
"Do you think there will be many changes this year?" Ginny asked Hermione tentatively.
Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. There are a few of us from my year returning. After McGonagall owled us and offered us the chance to finish I asked her how that would work. How would all these so-called eighth years be integrated with the traditional students? She said she would have further information when we arrived. Honestly I think she wasn't really sure herself how it would work, and was probably still hammering out the details."
Ginny nodded thoughtfully, then jumped when a pounding came from the other side of the compartment door.
Hermione was out of her seat in a flash, Crookshanks shrieking over being deposited on the floor. Hermione had her wand out and pointed at the door when a voice came form the other side.
"Hermione?" The voice was muffled.
"Who is it?" Hermione called out.
"Neville and Luna," the voice called back.
Hermione slowly lowered her wand and after a moment began removing the various spells she placed earlier and stepped away form the door, wand still gripped firmly in her hand.
Neville and Luna crossed the threshold of the compartment and greeted Ginny. Neville looked warily at Hermione before nodding. "I do the same, even now," he inclined his head to the wand in Hermione's hand.
"You came back," she said weakly to Neville.
"My last year at Hogwarts was enlightening, although not in the educational sense," Neville grinned apologetically. "When McGonagall offered a re-do, as it is, I couldn't see myself wanting to be anywhere else."
"It's only proper to give Hogwarts a true sending-off," Luna said mildly and lowered herself beside Ginny. "And I never properly said goodbye to the Thestrals last year, they'll think me terribly rude."
Hermione felt the corners of her mouth rise and turned around to hug Neville. "I'm so glad you both are back. I assumed Luna would be back for her real seventh year, but I really didn't know who to expect from my year. You all actually went to school last year."
Neville flushed at Hermione's embrace. "Yeah, I'm not the only one from our year who is back, Malfoy's on the train, too."
Hermione felt the blood drain from her face . Instinctively she rubbed the spot on her forearm where Mudblood was still etched into her skin as a shiny white scar. It was her only true blemish throughout all she encountered last year, but neither Muggle nor magic medical means could rid her of it. It was also the only souvenir she had from her first and only visit to Draco Malfoy's home, courtesy of his deranged and deceased Aunt Bellatrix.
"I knew that," Hermione said in a soft voice, more for her own benefit than anything. "It was part of his probation to finish out his education at Hogwarts."
"That's right," Neville smacked his hand to his forehead. "I forgot, you testified for that rat."
"I did what was right," Hermione said more firmly and sat down. "He didn't deserve Azkaban."
"Like hell," Neville mumbled.
"Careful, you're starting to sound like Ron," warned Ginny tiredly. "All hell broke loose while those three decided what to say about Malfoy to the Wizengamont."
"What did happen with that, Hermione?" Neville asked gently. "I mean, it was all over the Daily Prophet, of course, but I've learned that they really can't be trusted with the real truth."
Hermione leaned back against the headrest and tried to think of the best way to describe what pushed her to speak on behalf of Draco Malfoy, an admitted Deatheater and son of one of the most notorious Deatheaters. Things were moving so quickly at that time that she barely remembered her testimony. How could she explain to her friends that, while being under the influence of Crucio, all she could focus on through her pain were the gray, guilty eyes of Draco Malfoy? How could she even begin to put into words that while she went through the longest minutes of her life she took hold of the familiarity of the only person in the room she knew? Those eyes haunted her in her dreams even now. Regardless, she knew down to the marrow in her bones that Malfoy wasn't his aunt, wasn't his father, wasn't a Deatheater. Like Hermione herself he had to do the best with the hand he was dealt.
When she, Ron, and Harry were deposited in the drawing room of the massive Malfoy Manor, his family turned on Draco to identify Harry through the curse Hermione inflicted upon him before they were captured. She knew he knew. She knew that the very presence of herself and Ron doomed Harry to discovery to anyone that knew them in school. And yet...he faltered. She knew he knew exactly who Harry was, and yet he showed signs of reluctance to give them away. That was enough for Hermione. Even after lying there on the cold floor, Bellatrix cackling over her, Hermione clung to the hope that Draco Malfoy was not lost. He wasn't evil. Hermione knew evil. She would not be responsible for sending him to Azkaban for the sins his father bestowed upon him.
In the end Harry and Hermione testified before the Wizengamont, Ron not quite having the faith the other two did in their classmate. Harry told the older wizards and witches how the only reason he prevailed in Voldemort's destruction was due to Narcissa's lie. He told them that she was not a Deatheater. That was plain by the lack of the Dark Mark on her forearm. He told them how she was only guilty of loving her husband and her son, and that anyone faced with the choice between the death of their child and following Voldemort, well, stronger wizards have done worse. Narcissa Malfoy was given a full pardon, allowed to live the rest of her life in peace.
When it came time to testify for the actions Draco Malfoy displayed, Hermione knew that there was only one course she would take. To her surprise Harry agreed with her, much to the dismay of Ron. Hermione didn't blame Ron, really. Draco was in every way the school yard bully who made Ron miserable about his lack of money and prestige. Hermione and Harry knew and understood that they were past the grudges of the school yard, while Ron still put stock into the words they exchanged as children. They were not children anymore, and this was not the school yard. Harry accounted for the first time, in front of the entire Wizengamont, Daily Prophet, his friends, and his adopted family the night of Dumbledore's murder. He accounted that Draco Malfoy was, in fact, given the task by Voldemort himself to kill Albus Dumbledore or face the murder of his parents and in the end he could not do it. Harry gave the entire wizarding world a blow-by-blow of every word exchanged, how he knew that Draco Malfoy attacked only with the disarming spell because he could not stomach doing anything more to the headmaster. Harry had inclined his head at that time and told the Wizengamont that Expelliarmus had become his own trademark, and that Harry himself used it in battle because he couldn't handle doing worse to an opponent. Harry knew by that action alone that Draco Malfoy wasn't a killer, and Snape stepped in to grant an already dying man his last wish.
After Harry's tearful testimony Hermione had to recount her views on the fate of the Malfoy heir. She showed the wizarding world the scar on her forearm. Hermione held her head high and displayed the tattoo and brand she would carry the rest of her life that was left to her by Bellatrix Lastrange. She told the world how Draco Malfoy was helpless to stop it. "Not all of us are victims of Voldemort, she had said with her head held high. "Some of us, like Draco Malfoy, and even myself as a Muggleborn, are victims of circumstance. I stand before you and say that even while under the effects of the Cruciatus Curse I could see the remorse in his eyes. He was standing in a room full of family and associates older than himself, how was he, a boy still of seventeen, able to intervene on my behalf? I do not blame him, only applaud him for trying to cover up Harry's identity, if only for a few minutes. Voldemort-" and the room still stiffened and shivered with fear. "Voldemort poisoned some of the brightest minds, how was Draco Malfoy able to avoid that when his own father raised him on the values Voldemort had instilled in him? Do not presume to judge what you do not understand, and do not punish the son for the deeds of the father. Lucius had enough time after the first downfall to obtain perspective. He chose not to. Instead he filled his son's head with foolish nonsense about blood. My blood is red, as Bellatrix Lestrange discovered, and yet she still saw mud in it. Draco Malfoy is still young and vital to the future of the wizarding world. If you punish him you punish all the children who were born of Deatheaters. Give them the chance to make their own mistakes as well as their own assertions about blood status. Only then may you pass judgement upon them alone, and not the mistakes their parents made."
Hermione was not called the brightest witch of her age for nothing. She was an eloquent public speaker, as she soon found out. A hushed, tearful silence followed her speech. Draco Malfoy himself was sitting in one of the binding chairs, unable to move, merely blinking as Hermione descended the elevated chair she sat in. After that, Draco, like his mother, was given a full pardon. His only punishment was having to finish his education at Hogwarts and have his wand monitored for a year. As long as he didn't preform any dark magic he too would be able to live life free of further punishment. To Hermione that seemed fitting for a child, for were they not all still children? Seventeen years in the long life of the wizarding world was nothing. After she spoke to the Wizengamont she felt that she repaid her small debt to Draco Malfoy. If not for his intense, remorseful gaze she might have given up all hope in the Wizarding world accepting those with Muggle parentage. In Draco she saw a future she might have helped in create by testifying for him.
"I told them the truth, Neville," Hermione said quietly. "He is our classmate. We cannot condemn him because he was raised as a bigot. Nor would you condemn me for being raised as a Muggle, am I right?"
"Hermione, you're a brilliant witch," Nevile said as a fact. "No one can argue that."
"And yet there still are people who will try," Hermione said with a sad smile.
"They're morons," Ginny said vehemently. "Seriously, they just need to meet you."
Hermione laughed at Ginny's testament. "Blood is red. Mine is red as well as yours. The Ministry fell to such lies, but I think we changed the course of history."
Neville smiled. "My gran is proud of me, Hermione. I know what you mean about blood. It's not red, or muddy, or blue or green, it's just...blood. I know I bleed the same as any Muggle. I would be a fool not to see it. But I know that we are in a place where we can help mold future generations, and I think we need to see what becomes of it. Let's see what this year of Hogwarts brings."
Hermione grinned for what seemed to be the first time in ages. "You're right," she said. "At least we know it can't be worse than last year."