Hermione didn't need to return to Hogwarts for another year of lessons. After all, she was the Brightest Witch of Her Age, and the depths of her knowledge had plunged even further from the months she had spent on the run learning about things that academia never could. It was more than just Horcruxes. Hermione learned how to excel at casting wards, how to distract your enemies, and just how much strength it would take to survive in the hardest of situations. She would have returned all that knowledge if it meant that her best friend could be returned to her, but nevertheless, it was in her head for good. Still, the idea of another year tucked away at Hogwarts felt like the safest option, even if it was her only one.

Not only would Hogwarts feel the safest, but it was also a relief that Hermione knew what to expect. A year of assignments and examinations would be like a vacation after her past few years, even if there were dark witches and wizards around every corridor. And maybe, just maybe, it would provide her with some intelligence about how to help rebuild The Order.

Hermione gathered in the Great Hall on the 1st of September with her friends for the Start-of-Term Feast and the Sorting Ceremony. The hours before the occasion had been filled with anxiety. Even Professor McGonagall had been on edge, constantly darting her eyes as doors opened as if she were terrified about who might be the one to walk through them. The professor continued to insist that she was unsure of who may be joining the staff for the year, including who the next Headmaster would be. Minerva never bothered to assume it would be her, even if the students were all hoping for it. Hermione had made her predictions. She, of course, was considering the worst and was confident that it would be a Death Eater, which everybody around her agreed with. They could only hope that it would be one that was so preoccupied with other duties that they were seen even less frequently than Albus Dumbledore was when he held the job.

After hours of increasing nervousness, a new batch of first-year students arrived ahead of the latest crop of staff. Hermione suspected that it was the smallest group to be welcomed into the school. Ginny had even confirmed that it was fewer students than the year prior when Severus Snape was Headmaster. Their count told them that there were twenty-five of them.

Hermione couldn't help but think back to the day when she stood in their place. She had not grown up expecting to be sorted into the same house as her ancestors, as many of her fellow students had. She didn't have magical parents who hoped she would follow in their footsteps. Nor had she had much preference, as long as it wasn't Slytherin. She trusted the hat to make its decision, figuring it may be a coin toss between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. She was nervous about the ceremony, but it was only because she feared that she would be sorted into a house and unable to make friends. Loneliness was her biggest fear of entering Hogwarts. Now, staring at a group of children whose biggest fears ranged from being murdered for their blood status to being tortured by their classmates, it felt silly to be afraid of not fitting in.

The ceremony started as if Minerva was eager to get students to their seats as quickly as possible. It began with three Hufflepuff sortings in a row, which was practically unheard of. The next went to Ravenclaw. Finally, a dark-haired boy with freckles and robes too big for his body had the hat placed on his head, announcing his destination as the Gryffindor table. Hermione and her seatmates cheered louder than they had in months, happy to welcome another student, who Hermione would later know as Eddie Ramsey, to their sacred team.

The following student was sorted into Slytherin. Hermione didn't catch his name over the continued interest in Eddie, who happily introduced himself to everybody at their table. But she watched him walk from the front of the Great Hall over to the table of Slytherins, who she had mostly ignored up until that point. They weren't all terrible; some had been proven good-hearted during the battle. She knew she had no right to judge them for their house. But looking at the sea of green and looking into the eyes of students she knew were related to Death Eaters who she had fought in battle… No. She wasn't going to let herself blame them. But she did find herself reaching underneath the table and interlocking her fingers with Ron, who was staring across the hall so intently that it looked as if his gaze could cut a wand in half.

Hermione followed Ronald's stare and felt it as her own eyes landed on a familiar head of unforgettable blond hair. There, in the Great Hall, was marked Death Eater Draco Malfoy, sitting amongst the rest of the Slytherin students. If he had caught on to the judgemental looks being thrown his way, he did not show it. All he did was sit silently, staring at the empty space in front of him, clenching his fists.

The last time that Hermione had seen Draco was near the end of the battle. She could have sworn that he walked off with his parents after Voldemort claimed his victory. The Malfoys were instrumental in the Order's downfall, even after the bizarre incident where they claimed not to recognise Harry Potter. Draco should have been sitting at home surrounded by the Dark Lord's praises or assisting the country's political takeover. Why, Hermione wondered, would he be at Hogwarts?

"Watch it, 'Mione," Ron whispered, interrupting her thoughts. Then, she realised just how tightly she had been gripping Ron's hand.

"Sorry," she replied, not changing her grip at all.

The Sorting Ceremony had ended. They had welcomed nine new Gryffindors, all of whom looked unsure whether to celebrate or to owl their parents and ask if it was too late to come home. The feast should have started next, but as food failed to appear, the room began to fill with silence as students looked at one another in anticipation. They had far more information to learn before gorging themselves.

A thunderous crack pierced their quiet room as a form appeared at the back of the Great Hall. It was not the previously unallowed apparition within the school grounds that terrified Hermione but the corpse-like pale skin that followed it. Dozens of students choked out gasps, while others pulled their hands to their mouths as if emitting a sound would draw his gaze toward them. Hermione didn't think for herself at first. Instead, she inched closer to Ron, pulling her other hand to his knee in reassurance, praying to Circe that he wouldn't try to stand up and fight. Not now, anyway, while they were surrounded by children and were without backup.

"Welcome, my friends," Voldemort said as he slowly approached the front of the Great Hall. He did not bother with a Sonorus Charm, for the room was so quiet that his hiss echoed from corner to corner.

As the room watched the object of their darkest memories creep forward, Hermione glanced at Malfoy. She predicted a smirk or perhaps a look of pride at his Dark Lord's arrival. Instead, she found him looking the same as before and wondered if his stare was strong enough to dig a hole through the table in front of him.

"You should not look so surprised to see me," Voldemort began, planting his bare feet in the same spot Albus Dumbledore would when ready to deliver his Start-of-Term speech. Nagini slithered slowly behind him, creeping her way around his legs and resting as he continued.

"I urge you to look around the hall where we are gathered. Many of you may be disgusted, as I may be if I were in your shoes, to see parasites of the Wizarding World amongst you. After much deliberation, I have chosen to allow the dirty blooded witches and wizards to return to such a highly esteemed school as this. But alas, we have lost many powerful talents to the war. And though it may be easy to blame these Mudbloods, as we rightfully should, we must accept that our world cannot be rebuilt without them. You may be tempted to thank me, Mudbloods, for being so forgiving of your cruelty. But rather than waste your breath, you may think about how your… skills… can be used."

Voldemort stopped, scanning the room and letting his eyes fall on student after student. He couldn't know which were the Muggle-borns, but an excited gleam in his eye appeared as he caught sight of Potter's Mudblood. While most of the students had averted his eyes, Hermione dared herself to stare straight back at him. She wanted to look strong for her friends and show the people around her, Ginny included, that she hadn't stopped believing they could beat him. But as their eyes locked, she felt her skin turn to ice and her heart stop. A vision of Harry was yanked to the front of her mind, and she saw him lifeless and nearly indistinguishable from the dozens of other bloodied bodies lying in the rubble. Hermione felt immediate grief and terror flood her body like a nightmare before her eyes. It didn't end until Voldemort moved his eyes to the next Muggle-born.

Exhausted from the mental intrusion, Hermione looked up at Ron in desperation. Though, rather than look back at her, he merely closed his eyes, praying that Voldemort didn't pierce into his thoughts. So, Hermione kept searching, landing on Ginny. Her face said the opposite of Ron's, unwavering and glaring, the exact expression that Hermione had hoped to wear only moments earlier. It was one that was ready to fight. And though both witches knew that now was not the time and that the right time might not come around for a long time, she was comforted knowing that hope had not been lost. It had just been temporarily pushed aside until their footing could be found.

"As your Headmaster, I will ensure that you are all learning the necessary skills as we move forward, paving a new future. We will not mourn the loss of our friends, such as Severus Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange, and the rest of those who gave their lives in the fight against impurity. Instead, we will rise from the ashes and rebuild."

Hermione's heart plunged as she imagined a school year where she would feel Voldemort's presence in the castle every night as she fell asleep, muddying the line between nightmare and reality.

The mention of Snape's name gave another sting to her body as she recalled the years Harry had insisted on his true allegiance. Snape's final moments, bleeding out from the strikes of the snake, had left Hermione with the sneaking feeling that perhaps there was more to the dark wizard than anybody alive had known. However, the secrets of Severus Snape's final thoughts had died along with Harry.

"While you may always put your faith in me, my students, you must know now that I have much greater things to do than roam these hallowed halls and sit idly as real change is made, as your former Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, allowed himself to do. So, while you are all studying your dark arts and readying yourself to graduate into my ranks, I have called upon my loyal servants, Amycus and Alecto Carrow, to return to you all as Deputy Headmasters."

Hermione looked to Ron, who was busying himself with looking at Ginny with a pained expression on his face. The surviving two-thirds of the Golden Trio had not had the displeasure of studying under their power at Hogwarts the year prior. However, the summary they had heard had indicated horrors such as the use of curses on students, misguided lessons on Muggle-borns, and prejudice against anybody who did not actively support the Dark Lord. Ron was undoubtedly thinking about how he had not been there to protect his sister, among others. He could only vow to himself to protect them this time around, knowing that Harry would have done the same.

Amycus and Alecto Carrow seemed to emerge from the shadows. The siblings approached Voldemort, careful to stand a foot behind him on either side so as not to take up any of the spotlight.

"You must count yourself lucky to have such a powerful wizard and witch at your lead. They would have had every right to refuse to return, especially after the disrespect shown so many months ago," Voldemort continued to speak as the siblings looked at Minerva in contempt.

The sight of them reminded Minerva of the same memory that the Carrows were thinking of. Her bold act of stringing them up in Ravenclaw Tower during the final battle was not a happy memory on its own but rather another need of war. Though, the respect that Harry Potter had shown her in those moments brought a smile to her face even now as she stared at the Death Eaters. Of course, she would never approve Harry's use of the Cruciatus against them, but she knew that she would have done the same if the opportunity had presented itself.

"A sign of respect for your returning Deputy Headmasters would be prudent, would it not?" Voldemort asked the room, who responded in more silence.

Before anybody could consider shaking their heads at the Dark Lord's request, Hermione felt her hands peel themselves off Ron, who was similarly retracting from her touch. A sound wave began to erupt from the back of the room, making its way forward. She only registered it as applause as her own hands started to force themselves together in a clapping motion. As she looked up in horror, Hermione saw matching expressions on all her classmates.

Hermione tried to recall how to resist the Imperius Curse. She knew that it was possible and required the most extraordinary willpower imaginable. After looking down at her clapping hands, she clenched her eyes shut, focused on the darkness that the backs of her eyelids brought, and imagined that she was anywhere but the Great Hall. There were no Dark Lords forcing her into such a disgusting sign of praise because there were no Dark Lords to follow. She could almost feel the movement of her hands stopping, but as she snapped her eyes open, she realised that they were only clapping louder.

It was Ron who had managed to bring his claps to a soft, almost non-existent cheer. Hermione looked at him in surprise, a sense of pride swelling in her heart. He did not seem to concentrate on the resistance as much as she had, but instead continued looking at Ginny. She and the rest of the Gryffindor table seemed to be wearing matching expressions of nausea at their forced motions, either unaware that resistance was possible or lacking the energy to try.

Hermione did not notice that Draco Malfoy had also managed to resist the curse. Even if she had looked, she would have seen him resume his clapping but of his own volition.

The Carrows did not make a speech as Lord Voldemort dropped his hall-wide Imperio. Instead, the trio sat at the previously empty staff table as the rest of the teachers arrived, which included Filius Flitwick, Horace Slughorn, and Pomona Sprout, among others, who all looked nervous about being seated next to some of the most powerful dark wizards of their time. Cuthbert Binns, their History of Magic teacher, also floated by the table. Minerva remained seated at the Gryffindor table, holding her head high and trying to distract the latest batch of students. Hagrid, who Hermione had seen earlier that day, was noticeably absent from the hall. Though he had rebuilt a new hut on the grounds and would continue caring for the creatures around the school, he would not be invited to sit amongst the staff.

Food appeared in front of the staff within seconds of settling in, looking as tasty as all the previous Start-of-Term Feasts. The students had to wait, only having their food appear after the teachers had finished theirs. Many began to dig in as soon as Voldemort and Nagini Disapparated from the Great Hall, clearly done with the hassle of welcoming the students.

"They're just more puppets, those Carrows, just like Pius is at the Ministry," Ginny whispered as they all left the Great Hall in the direction of their common rooms.

Nobody disagreed with her.

Ron rushed ahead of the group, barging through the portrait door and into the Gryffindor common room as he clutched his mouth and stomach. Hermione followed, catching him as he just made it to the toilets in time to expel the food he didn't bother eating during the feast.

"Ron, are you alright?" She asked him as he rested his forehead against the porcelain, ready to be sick again.

She began to approach him when he didn't respond, but before she could try rubbing his back in comfort or reassuring him that things would be alright, he stood up to face her.

"Please, Hermione, just leave."

"What? Ron, no. We're going to get through this, just like we always have," she began to reply.

"I… I can't hear that right now. Hermione, please, leave me be."

He closed the door to the stall in her face, leaving her with no choice but to retreat to where the others had gathered in front of the fire. Hermione could only assume that somebody had ushered the new students to their beds, promising them safety in the coming days, as it was only the upper years who remained.

"How's Ron?" Ginny asked, making room for Hermione on the sofa.

"He's not feeling well, I suppose."

"You'd have to be out of your right mind to be feeling alright right about now, wouldn't you?" Neville replied from his spot on the other side of Ginny.

He was right. As Hermione finally let herself sink back into the cushions beneath her, she felt a familiar wave of nausea that she had ignored settle into her stomach. Had they spent their last months acting like the worst of the war had ended? Hermione could not imagine anything worse than losing Harry and failing at their task of defeating Voldemort. But now that they were essentially trapped in a castle alongside his minions and with no plan of action to rely on or look to in hope, they truly had no idea what would come next. She still stood to lose Ron, or Ginny, or any of the rest of her friends sitting next to her.

She began theorising why Voldemort insisted on allowing Muggle-borns back into the school. Hermione knew that there would be fewer students without them and wondered if Voldemort needed to keep their numbers high to show the rest of the country that the numbers in magic were still substantial. But there was a sneaking feeling that it was far more than that. That perhaps they were training them to be sold into wizard slavery or being led like a pig to slaughter. She would have to graduate at the end of the year and knew they would need to form a plan by then.

Fortunately, nobody in the room was ready to spend another night sitting back and pretending like they were crafting their new normal. Everybody was buzzing with anger, and Ginny looked more determined than ever.

"I almost jumped up as soon as he appeared. I want to curse that disgusting grin off of his face," Neville said amongst the chatter of fear and anger.

"And those Carrow pigs could use another trip to Ravenclaw Tower," another voice came.

Ginny looked frustrated as if she were regretting sitting still earlier that night. Though, as Hermione hated being the bearer of bad news, she knew that any action that they might come up with tonight would be hasty.

"There is no way that Voldemort would return to Hogwarts without planning for an attack," she began, silencing the room around her. "He probably has individual wards coating Nagini and him, and maybe even the Carrows, too. If you were to cast anything against him, it would just bounce back and do the same to you. And that's before he turns his wrath against you."

As she spoke, Ron had returned from his bout of sickness and placed himself amongst the rest of the students, looking at Hermione in frustration that matched his sister's.

"We won't lose our spirit. We won't stop trying to rebel. But we need a foolproof plan before we even think about attacking. We can't have another war until we're sure we'll win."

"But Hermione," Ron spoke up, "it's not another war we're trying to avoid. We're still in the same bloody one."