Hermione
Platform 9 ¾ was bustling as Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley said their goodbyes. The familiar sight of the scarlet train, the clash of students in Muggle and wizard clothing, and the din of conversation punctuated by the soft hoots of owls helped Hermione as she prepared herself for the next several hours. The first week of school was going to be hard, but the train ride and first night back in the dorms would be the hardest.
Hermione pretended not to notice how many compartments sat half-full instead of crammed with students. She and Ginny tucked themselves away, as far in the back as they could manage, and then they waited.
Crookshanks was asleep on the luggage rack by the time the compartment door opened for a new arrival. He hissed as a trunk slid onto the rack, nearly smashing his already squished face.
"Sorry about that," Neville Longbottom said to the ginger half-Kneazle, half-cat, and turned to Hermione. "Knew you'd come back. Everyone was saying you'd become an Auror like Harry and Ron, but I knew better. You couldn't stand the thought of missing your last year."
Hermione grinned and stood to hug her old friend. "You know me well. How are you?"
"Fine, fine. Gran's a bit peeved at me since I didn't join up with the Aurors this summer, but I've had my fill of fighting."
Ginny and Hermione nodded in silent agreement. Neville sat down with them and the three students watched the compartment door, wondering if anyone else would come through.
At the last minute, Hannah Abbott joined them and settled against Neville's side as the train began to move. Neville wrapped an arm around his girlfriend but frowned at the door. "I expected Luna would at least..."
Ginny shook her head. "Luna and her father are off in the Alps hunting some mythical creature or another. She'll be back a few weeks late." If she comes back at all, was the unspoken reality of the situation. How many students wouldn't be coming back?
The compartment felt huge to Hermione as she tried not to think of her many trips with Harry and Ron. Even when she'd been a prefect and didn't see her friends at first, she and Ron crowded into seats alongside other prefects.
An unexpected bitterness rose in her throat as she reflected on her time as a prefect. She'd always assumed she would become Head Girl, but Snape's appointment to Headmaster had stolen that from her. She had been devastated last summer when she received her Hogwarts letter and Prefect's badge, not that she intended to return to Hogwarts at that time anyway. But she had deserved it more than anyone else Snape could have possibly appointed.
This year the Head Girl was a seventh-year Ravenclaw. A lengthy letter accompanied Hermione's school supplies list this year, detailing the staff's decisions regarding the "eighth-year" students. Neither the Head Boy nor the Head Girl were chosen from the voluntarily returning students. Eighth-year students were also relieved of Prefect duties. Hermione teetered on the edge of gratitude and resentment for these changes. On one side, she was glad that her only responsibility was to finish her education; on the other side, she felt offended that the staff didn't think she could handle the extra stress.
"Hermione, are you okay?" Neville asked.
"Hmm?" She turned her head to look at the young man. He had a barely-healed scar above his left eyebrow. She remembered how the blood dried on his face as he duelled Death Eaters and shouted commands to his allies. Just another of a thousand things she could never forget.
"You've been staring at the same spot on the bench for over an hour."
She backed away from Neville, Ginny, and Hannah to settle into the corner of the compartment. "I just have a lot on my mind."
"We all do," he said wisely. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Hermione shook her head. "Not yet. I can't."
"I've been thinking about these," Neville said, and pulled a fake Galleon out of his pocket. Hermione's breath caught at the sight of it.
"You still carry that?"
"I do. I think we could—should—use them this year. I think we're going to need a way to deal with what happened. I think—I think talking through it might help." Across from Neville, Ginny was nodding. "Dumbledore's Army trained together, fought together, and now we need to grieve together."
"What's left of us," Hermione mumbled. She stared at the ceiling, willing the tears in her eyes to go away. Not yet. She didn't want to think about it yet.
Instead, Hermione reached into her school bag and pulled out Offensively Defensive. The strap of a much smaller bag caught on the book, and she swept it away with a guilty glance at her classmates. She stuffed the beaded bag deeper into her belongings, hiding it under the heavy Ancient Runes textbook.
Hannah stepped over Neville and Ginny's game of wizard's chess and pulled the textbook from Hermione's hands. She flipped to the second half of the book. "You've already read this, haven't you?" she asked. Hermione nodded. "Figures." Hannah thumbed through the pages for a minute before she stopped. "Alright, Hermione. Which of the following hexes can be countered with finite incantatem? The Small Bowels hex, the Elongated Toes hex, or the Fibbing Tongue hex?"
"Small Bowels and Elongated Toes," Hermione answered immediately. Hannah nodded with a half-smile and Hermione snorted. "You'll have to come up with a harder question than that."
Hannah shrugged. "Sometimes the easy questions are the easiest ones to miss." She read through a few more pages. "What's the counter-curse for the Cycli-Cold curse?"
"Stabilis temperatus." Hermione waved a Muggle pencil in an approximation of the wand movement for the counter-curse.
Hannah shivered. "Now there's a curse I never want to encounter."
The quizzing went on until the train pulled into Hogsmeade. The four students packed up and disembarked, each step towards Hogwarts making their feet feel more and more like lead.
A wall of students stood hundreds of feet back from the carriages, openly gawking. There was a general buzz of confusion until someone started crying. With a sense of dread, Hermione looked at the carriages. She barely had time to choke back her own cries before Neville wrapped his arms around her.
So that was what thestrals looked like.
Hermione buried her face in Neville's robes, trying to wipe the image of the skeletal horses from her mind. If she could imagine they weren't real, maybe it would make the last year not real. If she looked back at the carriages and they were horseless—horseless, like they should have been—then maybe Fred and Lavender and all the others would still be alive.
"Hermione," Neville whispered.
"I can't do it." Her voice shook. How could she think coming back to Hogwarts would ever be okay? Too much had happened here. Too much had been destroyed.
She felt someone take her right hand in a firm grasp and pull her back from Neville. "Hermione," Ginny said. "Come on."
Hermione peered around Neville's arm to look at the other students. Many were clinging to each other. Some were moving forward to investigate the beasts closer. A handful of professors appeared and began guiding the students into the carriages. Hannah was helped someone with a cane climb into a carriage further down the line.
"Come on," Ginny said again.
Hermione held on to Neville's arm and kept her head tucked behind his shoulder, watching the reptilian creatures with one eye. It took far longer than usual for the carriages to start heading for the castle, as the students pet the thestrals with fascination until Professor Sprout finally threatened all of them with detention.
"D'you reckon they've put the castle back together?" the fifth-year Hufflepuff who joined their carriage asked.
Hermione looked out the window of the carriage toward the school. "I don't know."
"You're Neville Longbottom, right?" the Hufflepuff asked, with an edge of excitement to his voice. Hermione felt him nod. "My brother saw you kill You-Know-Who's snake last year. That was awesome."
"Thanks," Neville said. He didn't sound remotely grateful for the praise.
"And you're Hermione Granger, right?"
"Who's your brother?" Ginny asked, steering the conversation away from Hermione. She felt a flare of gratitude toward the younger woman.
"Justin Finch-Fletchley."
Hermione turned her head to face the other student. "But he's Muggle-born! How did he get in to fight?"
"Ernie and Hannah got word to him that we'd started living in the Room of Requirement," Neville answered. "Tonks and Aberforth helped us smuggle him in during the last Hogsmeade weekend."
"He said he was tired of being in hiding," the younger Finch-Fletchley added. "He said 'I didn't join Dumbledore's Army so I could sit at Aunt Ada's and watch the telly.' And then he left a note for me and Mum two days later saying he was gone and might not come back. Beside herself, Mum was. Didn't sleep for days and wanted to go to the police. Aunt Ada told her not to—my Uncle Daniel's a half-blood, you see, and so we knew what was going on—so we got Mum some sleeping drugs and waited for Justin to come home."
"And he did," Hermione whispered.
"And he did," the Hufflepuff confirmed. "Missing a good chunk of his left cheek, though, and has to use a cane to walk. He says a Death Eater cursed the muscles in his left thigh. It spread, so by the time St. Mungo's was able to see him, he'd already lost use of most of his leg. But they were able to stop the curse and he came home."
They arrived at the castle and piled out of the carriages. The fifth-year waved goodbye and went looking for his friends. Hermione grabbed Neville's arm with her left hand and held Ginny's hand in her right. "Are you okay, Gin?" she asked.
The redhead nodded. "You?" Hermione nodded. "Neville?"
The young man stood straight and brought Hermione's hand close. "Let's go."
The stones of the castle fit snugly into the walls as if they had been standing for the last thousand years, rather than two months. It was eerie. Hermione had expected to see cracks in the walls and rubble on the floors...something that made Hogwarts look like the battleground she remembered.
"Look," Ginny said, and pointed to the wall just outside the doors of the Great Hall.
A silver plaque hung on the wall. Hermione read it, trying to steel herself against a rush of emotions.
In Memoriam
Battle of Hogwarts
May 2, 1998
Nearly a hundred names were engraved in fine script. Ginny pushed her way to the front of the surrounding crowd and reached up, tracing the list with a finger.
"Into the Great Hall. To your tables please," came the voice of Professor McGonagall. The crowd drifted away, until Neville, Hermione, and Ginny were all that remained.
Ginny's finger rested on the plaque, her face stony as she refused to display any emotion.
"Miss Weasley, you need to join your classmates."
The youngest Weasley turned to face the Headmistress. There was fire in her eyes. "He's gone." Her voice wavered, betraying the façade.
Professor McGonagall bowed her head. "I know and I am sorry for your loss. Fred was—well, I can't say one-of-a-kind—but he was irreplaceable." The professor motioned for the door. "Please, Miss Weasley."
Ginny dropped her hand, straightened her shoulders, and walked into the Great Hall. Neville and Hermione followed closely.
It was too clean, too tidy, too orderly. Hermione forced her eyes to the table. Looking around hurt too much. The gaps at each table were too large to account for the incoming first years, and the Slytherin table was by far the worst. They could have removed the Slytherin table altogether and redistributed the students to the other three houses with room to spare.
The line of first-years was short compared to the lines of earlier years. Hermione counted fewer than thirty children queued for their moment with the Sorting Hat.
The song was brief this year, filled with hope and advice for the future. It didn't categorize the houses by their traits, but rather advised the students to mix with one another regardless.
After the children were divvied and seated, Professor McGonagall stood.
"For those of you joining us for the first time this year, welcome to Hogwarts. For those of you returning, thank you for coming back." She gestured to the tables. "We will make our announcements and staff introductions in a bit. For now, let us eat."
For the first time since fourth year, Hermione's stomach turned at the sight of all the food at the table. She stared at her empty plate for several minutes before she looked around and saw most of the older students had the same reaction. To her right, Ginny picked at a chicken leg. Across the table, Dean Thomas stabbed a bread roll and tried to make his fork stand upright without magic.
Dinner lasted about half as long as normal and Hermione felt grateful when McGonagall got back to her feet.
"Thank you all for being here this evening," she began. "I know for many of you, returning to these halls may have been the hardest decision of your life, and I applaud you for being brave enough to come back." Professor McGonagall pulled at the corner of her eye and took a breath. "Many of your classmates are not returning this year, and the staff have asked that we have a moment of silence for the following students: Lavender Brown, Colin Creevey..."
Hermione stopped listening, lowering herself into the numbness she felt when Harry and Ron announced the news about the Malfoys.
"...will also be taking over as Head of Gryffindor House," McGonagall said awhile later. Hermione returned her attention to the head table, where a witch in deep red dress robes stood beside the Headmistress. "Thank you, Professor Wainwright."
"McGonagall isn't going to be over Gryffindor?" Seamus Finnigan demanded.
"Don't think she can be now that she's Headmistress," Neville said.
"Do you think she'll still be teaching Transfiguration?"
Hermione hadn't even considered that change to the staffing. She rubbed a hand against her forehead. "I don't know."
"...Professor Marc Dominic, who will be teaching first through sixth year Transfiguration. I will take this year to finish teaching my N.E.W.T.-level students before Professor Dominic takes over the department completely." Hermione and her companions breathed a sigh of relief.
"We will be making two major changes this year regarding house separation." The Gryffindors sat up straighter and eyed McGonagall with suspicion. "As of tomorrow, the student body will only be required to sit at their designated house tables during dinner. In addition, classes will no longer be segregated by house but alphabetically by first name.
"Finally, if our eighth-year students would follow me, I would like to have a word. The rest of you may be dismissed. First-years, please follow your Prefects to your new dormitories."
Hermione and her classmates followed Professor McGonagall into a side chamber, where several chairs were set up. A group far larger than Hermione expected piled into the room. She and Neville shared hugs with Ernie McMillan and Hannah, who were followed closely by a limping Justin Finch-Fletchley. Hermione hugged him harder than anyone else.
"I can't believe you fought," she said.
Justin chuckled darkly. "We Muggle-borns have to stick together."
McGonagall waited for the twenty-odd students to take their seats. "On behalf of the Hogwarts staff, I would like to tell you how proud we are that each of you returned to complete your education," she said after Lisa Turpin settled into a chair. "You will be joining the seventh-years in their classes tomorrow. You will be required to attend each class in which you intend to achieve your N.E.W.T.s. However, I am aware that some of you have made arrangements with your professors to the contrary. Unless these arrangements appear to interfere with the rest of your education, I will allow them to stand for now.
"You will return to your normal dormitories. The first and second years are sharing dormitories for the year to allow you privacy.
"Unlike previous years, you will not be held to a curfew. This only applies to the students currently in this room; the rule stands for seventh-years and below. Please exhibit respect for the rest of your classmates and staff by not causing disturbances in the halls or classrooms. Mr. Filch is displeased enough that we are giving you this freedom, and Peeves is wreaking a remarkably unusual amount of havoc without your assistance. And yes, Miss Granger, the library will be at your disposal twenty-four hours a day should you wish."
Hermione pinked as several students snickered. They were distracted, though, when Professor McGonagall looked behind herself with something that almost seemed like nervousness. "Our next order of business is rather sensitive. The Prefects have already been informed and will be addressing the issue with your houses. However, I feel it is necessary to introduce you in a more contained environment. Ladies?"
Hermione bit her fist to hide her shock as two greyish-silver apparitions floated to the centre of the room. Behind her, Parvati screamed.
"LAVENDER?"
The Ravenclaws were also talking in near-panicked tones as the other ghost watched them with apprehension. Hermione focused on Lavender, staring at the ripped skin of her face, neck, and shoulders where Fenrir Greyback had bitten.
"Stop staring," Lavender said to the aghast Gryffindors. The room quieted when she spoke in her new detached, distant-sounding voice.
"Lavender," Parvati whispered. Tears streamed down her face as she watched her best friend. Or, the ghost who was once her best friend.
On the other side of the room, Anthony Goldstein stood and walked over to the Ravenclaw ghost. "I can't believe you're real."
The Ravenclaw ghost, whose name was Jenika Quincey, held tightly to Lavender and didn't say anything. The grief was clear on her face.
"Are there any more ghosts?" Hermione asked.
McGonagall nodded. "We suspect yes, but they haven't shown themselves yet. The trauma of their deaths seems to have made them wary of exposing themselves. We do know there is at least one unidentifiable Slytherin ghost who refuses to leave the dungeons."
Hermione bit back the question that flashed through her mind. Someone who died for our side or theirs? A second thought quickly followed that: Are there Death Eater ghosts?
As if reading Hermione's mind, Professor McGonagall shook her head. "We have not encountered any...ill-meaning ghosts."
The older woman sighed. "I expect each of you to set a proper example for the younger students this year. You survived a war, and I hope gained some maturity from the experience. Many of the students will look to you as heroes. If I find that anyone is taking advantage of this by manipulating the younger students in any way, you will find yourself entering the workforce without a single N.E.W.T. to your name. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Professor," the eighth-years echoed.
"Very well. You are dismissed."
Hermione watched as the four remaining Slytherins—Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, and Tracey Davis—left the side-chamber first. The rest of the students gradually disappeared to their dorms.
As she expected, Hermione heard Parvati come into their room close to midnight. They were the only two Gryffindor girls left of the seven in their year. Lavender was dead. One was rumoured to be at Beauxbatons. Another had disappeared a month before the battle and hadn't been heard from since. Two more had joined the Auror program with Harry and Ron.
Hermione stared at the ceiling until dawn broke through the windows. If Parvati's sniffles were anything to go by, it would be a long time before the Gryffindor girls' dorm saw any sleep.