Hermione:

To her surprise, there weren't any signs the castle was being repaired. McGonagall had made sure there were safe paths everywhere, but they were rudimentary at best made with boards. Everything was in shambles. The castle was eerily quiet. Hermione cringed at the sight of dried blood and memories of where she fought and saw friends fall. She tried to focus on the path directly in front of her.

"Cotton candy tripe," was the password. This part of the castle was mostly intact. Hermione nervously knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Hermione stepped inside. McGonagall hadn't taken any time to decorate yet. The walls were bare as clearly, Snape hadn't taken the time to add any personal touches either it seemed, or if McGonagall had removed them.

"Sit, Miss. Granger. Can I offer you some tea? I only have bags right now."

"No, I'm good, thank you," she said as she sat down.

Hermione had always been a little uneasy around McGonagall. Even at parties, Hermione never felt she could "let loose" around her because part of her still expected McGonagall to deduct points if she dropped her punch glass. This was very weird.

"Professor, I have something that I think belongs to you," she said and pulled the red tartan cloak out of her bag.

McGonagall did not act surprised. "I had a feeling your parents might have kept it. It is charmed to wick moisture of all kinds. It is very old, but has held its shape."

"My parents thought it might be magically enhanced after I got my Hogwarts letter."

"How astute of them."

"Who are my parents professor?" she asked as she tried to stare McGonagall down.

"The ones you live with who love you are the only ones who truly matter," she said.

"How can you say that?" Hermione said with a note of shock.

"Miss. Granger, I broke rules by looking in the book where the residences of all magical children are recorded. I immediately went to see you in my Animagus form. I saw you were being raised by a pair of good-loving muggles. I would check in occasionally, but it looked like you were living a good life."

"Are you trying to get me to stop asking about them? Why?"

"It's a legacy of tragedy. Look at how you've progressed. You're a marvelous witch Miss. Granger!"

She was starting to get angry. "You won't even call me Hermione. What are you so afraid of? Voldemort is dead. What else is there to be afraid of?"

"There are other forces at work," McGonagall said without looking at her.

"What, am I supposed to die like Harry? Is there a prophecy that I am going to defeat a dark wizard?" Hermione said incredulously. "Are you trying to protect me like Dumbledor for Harry?"

McGonagall reacted as though she had been slapped.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

McGonagall wouldn't look at her. She stared into the middle distance. "My first husband's name was Devon Heriot. We were in the same year together. We were both Gryffindors also. I didn't find a Ron or Harry my first year, so I was bullied relentlessly during the first two years. I tried to change my appearance and read Witch Weekly like it was a textbook, but they teased me for that too. Devon was among the few who never mocked me. During my third year I found a love poem about me he had left behind by accident. It was the start of a life-long romance.

I learned to loosen up and by my fourth year, I was on the quidditch team with him. I graduated head girl while he was third in the entire school due to some heavy favoritism by Horace Slughorn for a Malfoy. We both pursued secondary education in France. He became a healer and I was a Transfiguration Today correspondent. We married three years after graduating from Hogwarts.

We were both very career-driven. Devon wanted to open his own practice someday, so we were saving up money. Work sent me to America and I was allowed to bring my husband. There is a town hidden behind Niagara Falls. I was there to record how restorative transfiguration was keeping the settlement secret. When I was done, Devon and I explored the town. A child ran up to us with a hideous wound on her shoulder that was sprouting blue mushrooms. We tried to help the child and Devon pulled out his medical bag. The child said there were more like her hurting. I tried to get Devon to flag down the authorities, but he didn't think there was time as the child had hours to live at best. We followed her into a part of the town that was more cave than community.

We walked into the trap of a bridge troll. There were a dozen other children tied to massive meat skewers over fire pits. The bones of children decorated the hut. That child had been used to lure us in. We were sucked into a quicksand trap. As capable wizards, we got out of the pit. The real problem was getting the children out. We quickly realized the troll had help from someone as there were magically-enhanced traps no troll could come up with. I wanted to flee to get reinforcements, but Devon refused. He pointed out that the town probably knew about the troll as all the children bore signs of being the kind that aren't searched for such as being a of non-white background of mixed magical being race."

McGonagall stopped briefly and looked. Tears were streaming down her eyes.

"Hermione, I was a coward. I was willing to let the troll go on killing and eating children if it meant escaping with my life and Devon's. But Devon was better. I managed to get the children out as Devon dismantled the protective spells on the troll. Just as he was about to deliver the killing hit, a witch appeared. She had red hair and was dressed in red with a white blindfold. She explained if he were to kill this troll, he would be cursing his bloodline with early violent ends for a hundred years."

"We didn't have children at the time, so Devon didn't hesitate to kill the troll. The red witch laughed and then they dueled. Much like Potter, Devon trapped me from getting involved. So, I screamed and sobbed as Devon was killed by the witch."

The witch released me and told me to go home. To warn others of what happens when the natural order is upended."

"What is the witch's name?" Hermione asked.

"The defense against dark arts professorship isn't the only job that is cursed. Binns has made the history of magic painfully boring so that no one actually learns anything useful. Between the two, you should have learned about something called naturally occurring Evil. Like a poltergeist, some witches are manifestations of the ill will in the world. They are ancient and semi-immortal."

"What's the difference between her and Voldemort?" she asked.

"These beings feed off chaos. They do not want or need followers. They uphold the status quo to fulfill their needs. Let me finish now."

"I came home alone and found I was pregnant. That is the terrifying thing about this witch: she bent time to tamper with my contraceptive potion. I told Dumbledore what happened. I spoke to ministry officials. I wrote to MACUSA and the Canadian equivalent. This kind of evil is untraceable. No one could help me."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"Are you sure you want to hear the rest?" McGonagall asked.

"Positive," she said.

Hermione needed to hear the story of what happened to her parents.