November 2, 1981
The scene at the Potters' place of residence was one of heartbreak and horror as well as hope. Lily, 21, and James Potter, 21, are survived by their infant son, the boy who lived, Harry Potter,1. The young boy was entrusted to the care of his maternal aunt Petunia Dursley, 24, a muggle. The bittersweet celebrations of our world are not felt by everyone as tragedy struck the Pettigrew family and devastated the muggle community.
We advise our younger and more delicate (There's that word again, Hermione thought bitterly) readers that the following descriptions might be found disturbing.
"Muggle witnesses report that Sirius Black, 21, came howling down the street, challenging Peter Pettigrew, 22, with a mad look in his eyes. He charged the smaller man, shouting 'You will pay for everything you've done, you pathetic bastard!' and threatened he would wish for death after what he'd done. This is when witness reports get murky. Some of the muggles claimed that Pettigrew cast various spells (they described wand movements and light) while others attributed the majority of offensive spells cast to Black, who all agree instigated the fire-fight.
Chaos erupted on the scene, and thirteen muggles lost their lives. The oldest being a 90-year-old widow by the name of Ethel Wickham and the youngest a ten-year-old boy by the name of Tomas Purdy.
Hermione took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. A ten-year-old, Sirius Black had killed a defenceless child. There were no mentions of the other eleven muggles killed, and nothing further honoured Wickham or Purdy. It felt as though those two murder victims were name-dropped just to depict how hienous Black truly was. Hermione hated to admit it, but it worked. A little boy and a little old lady, the only way it could have been worse is if Purdy were a baby rather than a child. She had no clue what either of them were like, but knew they-and the other eleven lives lost-deserved to be more than just props for Sirius Black's villiany. She bit her lip and read on.
Black cast the last spell, because the witnesses were muggles, we cannot say the spell used, but witnesses report Pettigrew vanished before Black tore off howling into the night with thirteen corpses on his heels.
"It was a blood bath," says Auror Mimi Shirai, 20. "When we went to investigate the crime scene, it was carnage. The muggles weren't just killed with the killing curse, many of the victims had slashes and burns on their bodies. It was beyond cruel. A number the muggles our obliviators saw still carry the trauma of what they witnessed-
Hermione stopped reading again, trying to imagine what would be like to be so thoroghly altered by an event you couldn't remember. She felt for the oblivated muggles, she couldn't speak to seeing a murder, being marked by it and forgetting the actual event, but she could to the ways memory alteration and the knowledge something was missing could mess a person up. Anger and sympathy gnawed at her, this never should have happened to any of them. That little boy should have been alive, an adult by now, and what of his parents? If they survived and witnessed their little boy's death-Hermione shuddered to think of how that procedure might have effected them. They all should have been alive and well, Harry should have had his parents, should have been raised by people who loved him. Sirius Black destroyed countless lives, including people she was close to-and her father, she had every intention of figuring out what made this personal for him. The way he glowered at Lupin when he was introduced all but confirmed there was something she was missing between Black's old school mates and him.
The things I had you copy were the tamer of his lot's deeds...The truth is James Potter ruined my life and I wasn't about to let his son do the same to you...Hermione mused on the conversation at the end of first year, but was no closer to answers. He said he thought I was too young to handle the details and that he didn't want to revisit it...Could I get information from Lupin? Focus on the task at hand... She read on knowing information on Black had to come before her father's past, and she still was torn on Lupin himself anyway.
"There are just somethings that obliviate and denial can't bury, I'm afraid." Shirai goes on to describe the gruesome scene. "When our men combed the scene to discover what happened we were shocked. Among the corpses we found a single index finger belonging to was all that remained of the young man. Not even ashes remained. We gave the remains-if you could call a single finger that-to his mother and only living relative. Her dead son's Order of Merlin was cold comfort in the tragedy of it all. We are pursuing Black as a top person of interest and won't rest until he is paying for his atrocious crimes in Azkaban."
We advise all citizens to be on guard. If you see a man matching Black's description, do not hesitate to contact the Aurors by owl. They will not stop until you are all safe and sound!
Hermione reread the article, only a finger was found. Thirteen by standers including a child murdered. She wondered what the cause of the altercation was, that might help her figure what he wanted with Harry. She wasn't dismissing that he could be a Death Eater. In her research of pureblood families to find the heir of Slytherin the previous year, she read about the Blacks. One of the "Great Eight" pureblood families, and several documented ties to not only Blood Purist groups but also directly to Voldemort. A cousin, Bellatrix LeStrange, and her husband were confirmed Death Eaters serving time in Azkaban. Black's younger brother Regulus was also part of the fold. It wasn't a stretch, Hermione thought. She wished the article were less sensationalist and more thorough. Though it was an on-going investigation at the time. However, the press didn't follow up on the matter, at least not for before 1983, and she didn't want to spend all morning in the library before classes. She resolved to get back to it later. She copied the article from '81 and placed it in her bag before she went to put the original back.
"Hi, Hermione!" Luna beamed.
"L-Luna?"
It wasn't yet eight and Luna stood at Madam Pince's desk, waving and inexplicably happy. Hermione hadn't expected to see anyone but a begrudging and tired Pince eyeing her with deep suspicion. Yet, there she was, and clutching a thick volume to her chest and inexplicably happy as the hawk-like Pince hoovered scrutinized her.
Hermione then understood why she was there, she recognized the thick volume clutched to her chest, she had spent a great number of hours with it after the incident by the lake. Luna, like Hermione before her, sought security in the form of a book. It relieved Hermione that there was someone else on the planet that did that.
"We are in a library, girls," Pince shushed them, before pushing her cat-eye glasses up her aquiline nose.
We're the only ones here! "Sorry," Hermione whispered.
Luna and Hermione left the library together, Luna hooking her arm into Hermione's as they walked down the corridor to the Great Hall.
"Are you alright, Luna?" asked Hermione, remembering that when she collapsed, she very much wasn't.
Luna nodded, still smiling. "I'm still not quite well," she admitted with a sigh. "The dementor didn't even enter my compartment, but as it brushed by I relived-" she inhaled and turned to face Hermione. "When I was eight-years-old I saw my mum die. She was trying to make a new spell-and things went very wrong. It was just me and Mummy. Daddy found me with her hours later when he came home from work. I remember begging her to wake up. I was eight, so I didn't really know what to do."
Hermione stared at Luna, whose veneer of cheeriness vanished, her face adapting a seriousness she had never seen on her before. Tears didn't form, and she didn't frown, but Hermione could see the pain in her eyes, in the line between her blond eyebrows, and her unsmiling lips.
Not knowing what else to do, Hermione rubbed her shoulder with her free hand. Hermione could picture a little Luna crying next to her mother's corpse, scared, confused and overwhelmed with sadness. A pang formed in her heart as she processed what Luna was telling her. She watched her mother die as a little girl and stayed with her body for hours. A knot formed in Hermione's stomach faced with a problem she couldn't fix, she wasn't even sure she had anything comforting to say. All she could do was listen and hope it was enough.
"Nobody really likes me," Luna sighed. "You don't have to lie to me, Hermione, I know it's true, and it usually doesn't hurt. But because of that was alone when they came. The lights went out, the air grew so, so cold. It was like my world was suddenly plunged into darkness and I couldn't get out no matter what. I tried to hang on to a certain memory, it can sometimes fight the meaner things I think about myself when other kids make fun of me, but then it was like I was there all over again. W-watching her die, trying to wake up my dead mother. Next thing I knew, I was on the floor alone, the lights were back on and the train was moving again."
"You were all alone until we got to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah," Luna nodded before turning to Hermione with a weak smile. "I'm glad I could find you before the feast. It helped."
"Yeah," Hermione smiled back. "Not sure what you find comforting about our lot, but I'm glad we could help even just a little."
"Did you faint too, Hermione?" Luna asked. "If Harry and I were called for that reason then you must have been too."
"No," Hermione shook her head. "Not that time at least. I was called to-" Keep it secret- from everyone "-erm-there was worry that I over-exerted myself when I attempted the patronus charm-I know, stupid girl trying something so beyond her capabilities-but I had to do something. Granted, I was fine. I was able to fend it off for a little bit, and Lupin woke up in time to cast an actual patronus charm. I'm grateful here was there." In more ways than one, I'm certain I would have fainted if I still thought myself responsible for him jumping-God, I'm such an idiot!
"He seems nice," Luna mused. "You and the Weasley twins still doing a DADA pool? I think this one might stick out the whole year. I hate the Jinx on the job, I have a feeling he'd be great."
"You might want to wait until he's taught one lesson before you say that?" Hermione rolled her eyes.
She adored Luna's unfiltered personality, but she seemed hasty in everything. Luna immediately decided for Hermione that they would be friends, she remembered her leaping up on to the archives table and leaning in close with bizarre observations. She instantly made snap decisions about her other friends, Harry was okay, if self-involved at times, but he was a good person, Ron was very funny but also very mean and-actually, those were the only two she vocalized opinions on.
"You know, Hermione," Luna's dreamy quality returned to her voice. "You're very kind, but I don't think you like to let yourself trust people very much."
"That's not true," Hermione argued, knowing the next words to leave her mouth were lies. "I trust you, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, my father, loads of people."
"I think you want to," Luna offered a smile.
Hermione loved and hated Luna's insight. How could she be so oblivious of phrases and how to conduct herself socially while still knowing exactly what was in a person's mind at the same time? How could she lie to herself when Luna kept calling her out on it?
"Where did you run off to this morning?" Ron asked. "Library?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and sat between Harry and Neville. "Actually, yes."
"It's the first day, and we haven't even gotten our timetables yet," Ron groaned.
"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "And how does my behaviour effect you here?"
"We were just curious," Harry shrugged. "What were you reading up on?"
Hermione scanned the table with her eyes. Ginny sat beside Ron, Neville sat beside Hermione. She didn't want to advertise that she'd been researching Black to anyone but Harry and Ron. "Just a bit of last minute reading on our new subjects," she lied. "I'm happy to tell you and Ron about it later."
"Why-" Harry started before something clicked. "We'll meet you after classes, then?"
"Yeah," Hermione nodded.
"Why would we want to know about it after classes?" Ron asked.
Hermione raised an eyebrow, and Harry shot a similar knowing glance his direction to which Ron replied: "Oh, yeah, that's good."
Ginny looked at the two of them rather annoyed, narrowed her eyes at Hermione and returned to her meal. Probably feeling rather left out. Or insulted that Hermione though she couldn't read 'private conversation' in her words. Maybe she should have just said she'd tell them later without the obvious lie. She wanted to speak to Ginny about giving Luna a chance, but she felt their newfound friendship was already sailing turbulent waters.
She turned to Neville, looking better than last night, but not by much. His face was solemn and he picked at his food with the enthusiasm of a corpse. He was rather quiet, while Seamus and Dean chittered away. Normally he'd say something to someone at this point, and Hermione had the distinct feeling he was silent all morning.
"How are you, Neville?" she asked.
"Erm," Neville murmured. "I'm okay. Yeah, I'm okay. Honest."
Hermione bit her lip. He wasn't okay, but she had no clue whether to press him was bad or not. If it were her, she would just want people to believe her and leave it alone until she figured it out for herself. But she knew some people wanted help before they were ready to ask for it. She'd known Neville for years, and felt like a terrible friend for not knowing which he was. No, I respect you too much to pry.
"Okay," she offered a smile and placed a sympathetic hand on his arm before whispering. "I believe you, but if that ever changes, I'll be there. You're my friend and I want to listen if you ever need me to."
Neville looked at her with great surprise, his round face flushed pink and his blue eyes grew wide before he averted his gaze. "Erm, thanks, Hermione."
I pushed too far...Why else would he look at me like that? Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry. Stupid piece of shit, you should have kept your mouth shut. "Sorry, Neville, I didn't mean-sorry." she whispered, looking at her clasped hands.
An awkward silence was thankfully interrupted by McGonagall passing out timetables to each of them.
"Bullocks," Ron groaned. "We have Care for Magical Creatures with the Slytherins. You're lucky you don't have to have classes with Malfoy, Hermione. I wish I was pushed ahead two years."
You'd crumble under the pressure, Ron, Hermione opted for kinder words. "At least you have two years to prepare for the OWLs. Fred told me a girl in a year above us left her exam in tears and dropped out. I guess they're really hard," a knot formed in Hermione's stomach and she spoke before she could stop herself. "I wish I had till I was fifteen too. I just know I'm going to fail everything without that time." Failure isn't an option!
"Oh come off it," Ron groaned. "Haven't I told you you're not allowed to moan about failing until you have one mark below an 'EE'?"
Not those words specifically..."That's fair," she sighed. "I don't think I'm hungry, I'll just-"
"You keep letting Ron chase you off by being a bloody prick and you'll never eat," Ginny spoke up for the first time since she sat down. "Stop being a prat, Ron."
"Shut up, Ginny," Ron groaned. "And if Hermione thought I was being a prat, she'd say so. She was never shy about it before, were you?"
"That would imply you've listened to me, Ron," Hermione sighed. "But it doesn't mat-"
"Hold on a minute," Ron said eyeing her schedule. "I think McGonagall made a mistake. How are you supposed to attend three classes at once? I didn't think you'd eat or sleep this year when you signed up for all of the classes, but bloody hell, even you're not that good."
"I'll go talk to McGonagall about it," Hermione lied. "Erm, thanks for pointing it out, Ron. See you, Harry, Ginny, Neville."
Hermione took off and wasn't quite out of earshot when she heard Ron-of all people!- mutter. "I worry about that girl sometimes."
"I'd worry about her a lot less if she wasn't friends with you," Ginny challenged. "You know she isn't well."
Great, Ginny does think I'm mad, she thought.
"I'd like to speak with you," Severus placed a hand on Hermione's head. "Come along, Hermione, we haven't much time."
"Y-yessir," Hermione wrung her hands nervously and stared at her feet as they made their way to the nearest empty classroom.
Hermione shrank next to the shut door, under the thick veil of her hair he could tell she was digging her nails into her hands again. She made herself as small as she possibly could. Hermione, it seemed, knew exactly why he had called after her (or one of them, he'd also intended to issue a warning about Lupin). She knew her behaviour was unacceptable. Yet, he felt pity for the tiny girl before him, trying so bloody hard to fade from existence. Only Hermione could send him from boiling anger to a crippling pity and guilt. He wondered if other parents were similarly conflicted between the urge to set their child straight and comfort them when they misbehaved. Indulge her and she'll never learn...
Though, she was always such a nervous little thing. This was the child who wouldn't speak in front of anyone before she could form simple sentences. So, he had to remind himself that her behaviour wasn't exactly a guilty plea.
"I imagine you know why you're here?" he said, lifting her face.
Hermione's eyes widened and she looked away. "No, sir."
"Allow me to refresh you memory then," he said. "At least a dozen students and staff heard your little outburst last night. Did I not tell you not to pick fights with Draco Malfoy? Did I not tell you that things would not go well for either of us if you did? Not to mention that exciting new little addition to your vocabulary. What the hell were you thinking?"
"Well," Hermione bit her lip and averted her gaze once more. "Erm, I-"
"Today, Hermione Elizabeth," he said.
Hermione inhaled sharply. "I don't think you care what I was thinking."
"Were it rhetorical I would not be waiting for an answer!"
Hermione sighed and averted her gaze once more. Whatever defiant spirit possessed her from time to time left, perhaps to come back later on. "It won't be good enough for you, Dad," she sighed. "My reasons never are."
That mixture of anger and crushing guilt crashed over him like a tsunami. He was her father, she had no right to speak to him in such a manner. After everything she put him through how could she? But it also forced to the front of his mind every time he had ever come up short or worse. Did she truly feel that way? Did he lead her to think so? There had been so many times he could have handled things better, but to-no, no if she acknowledged her reasoning was never good enough she knew it was inexcusable. And yet...
His thoughts were interrupted when Hermione slapped her forehead and muttered something under her breath. She looked as if she couldn't believe she had just said that aloud, and judging by how she buried her face in her hands and returned to shrinking before him, he imagined he was right. Had she not done that he might have admonished her for her cheek, but knowing that she had not meant to say it-it meant she actually thought that he wouldn't care whatever her reasons were.
"Try me," he sighed, gently placing a hand on her head.
"Erm," Hermione bit her lip and shifted her eyes from the ground to him. "Malfoy started antagonising Harry and-"
"Hermione," he said, lifting her face. "Do you not think you've done enough for that boy? Have you given enough of your time and energy defending him? I am only saying this because I want what's best for you, love. Is Harry Potter really worth all of this trouble?"
"Harry's my friend," she said in a small, but determined voice.
"And what has he done for you lately, love?" he asked. "Because it all seems incredibly one-sided from where I stand."
"He saved my life, Dad," she explained, her face falling from determined to disappointment
Must she always to look at him like that? He didn't like it when she was angry with him, the defiant fire in her eyes as she glared at him, or snapping at him, but he could live with it. He knew how to respond to her anger in different situations. However, he couldn't take that almost pleading look in her eyes, as if she were begging him to do better, but knew he wouldn't. That resinated sigh that accompanied that look so often. It was as if she wondered why she even bothered to hold out hope. Hermione may have adopted the phrase 'not angry just disappointed' because she was uncomfortable with expressing, and, he at least thought, feeling rage, but the irony was when deployed with sincerity, he was the one person that worked on.
That and her tears, he thought. Doesn't even matter what emotion accompanies them. The minute she figures that out, I'm done for...
That too had its own irony. Hermione did everything she could to appear calm, collected and in control whenever she was observed, no matter who the observer was. She had everything she needed in her little hands to devastate him, and she was either too ignorant or too decent to use them. He hoped for the latter. Yet, he paradoxically wished she would let her guard down around him as well.
"My gratitude is dampened knowing he was also the reason you were in danger in the first place," he sighed, lowering to her eye level and placing a hand on her head. "Listen, love. Outside of attacking the boy, I couldn't care less what Draco Malfoy does to Harry Potter. But if the boy is antagonising you, I can put a stop to it. Do you need me to address the issue?"
"No, sir," Hermione shook her head.
That 'no, sir,' was a slap to the face. Independent to the point of self-destruction, turning away offered help. No matter how much she needed his help, she didn't want it. Didn't trust it. She never sought his help, even as a small child, but turning him away when he offered help-no, this wasn't as new as he wanted to believe.
"Very well," he sighed. "I will hear no further complaints of you calling Malfoy or anyone else for that matter by that term. I expect an essay on the origins of the word next Monday. I imagine handing something like that into you father will serve as a very powerful deterrent from using it in the future."
"Yessir," she nodded.
"Now that we've wasted enough time on your abhorrent behaviour," he rose and folded his arms across his chest. "I wish to speak with you about Professor Lupin."
"Is it because he was friends with Sirius Black?" she asked reestablishing eye-contact.
She knew? I doubt Lupin volunteered the information. Have you gone digging up information on your new professor again, little girl? "Actually, yes. Am I to assume you and Miss Lovegood were sifting through old papers in the archives?"
"Erm, actually I just remembered it from the files you had me copy two summers ago. If I read it, I remember it."
History says otherwise, love. "He might not have been in as many disciplinary files, but believe me, those two were very close. Lupin," he looked around the empty classroom before dropping into French. "Don't ever make promises to powerful people against your better judgement, ma fille," he muttered rubbing temples before continuing. "Lupin wasn't initially very popular, so once he was brought into the fold of Potter and pals he tenaciously held on to them, simply grateful to be involved. I can't speak to whether he had a moral compass before, but he certainly didn't afterwards."
Hermione bit her lip and shifted her gaze, her brown eyes growing in size before she covered her mouth. "That actually sounds really sad."
Of course, tell a girl isolated from birth till her eleventh birthday of a boy with a similar predicament and her response would be pity not caution. "Pity will forever be your undoing, won't it, love?" he sighed brushing a lock of hair from her face. "You give your sympathy too freely to the undeserving, and Lupin does not deserve an ounce of it. I'm telling you this for not to garner pity for that repulsive man but to emphasise my point. Remus Lupin might have been in Gryffindor, might have been clever and talented, but the boy had no backbone. Which made it very easy for Black to persuade him. I have little hope anything changed now that he's grown other than the increased stakes. Listen to me, Hermione. I don't know if he has kept in touch with Black while he was in prison, but I do know this: If Sirius Black contacts Remus Lupin, he will bend and you will be in very real danger."
Hermione narrowed her eyes and bit her nails (he thought she grew out of that a long time ago!) looking rather deep in thought, he recognized the doubt and suspicion in her face. She lowered her hands to clasp them together, digging her nails into her skin. "Dad," she inhaled and spoke cautiously. "Why would I personally be at risk?"
So, so many reasons, love. He suddenly felt the weight of every part of himself that he kept from her. It shouldn't have mattered, what parents openly spoke to their children about hardships endured during their own childhood? It wasn't something he was keen to revisit, and she would never look at him the same way if she knew. He was her father, he was supposed to be a source of guidance, comfort and security. He knew she didn't see him that way often, and any trust she gave him was fragile, but if he showed that level of vulnerability she never would again.
"Let's just say Sirius Black had a particular distaste for me during our school years," he explained. "It went beyond your typical school rivalries. I can't trust he's forgotten it, as much as I wish he did. And you-" he sighed looking at his daughter's expectant face. She's so small and fragile...how could anyone look at her and see anything other than an innocent child in need of protection? "You've been used to get to Potter before. Being friends with him puts you at risk. If either man had an objection to taking a child as a hostage, Black could easily rationalise doing so simply because I'm your father. Black wouldn't see you as your own person, but as an extension of myself. Seeing a child that way makes it easy to justify a number of cruelties."
"I'll be vigilant," Hermione promised in a small voice. "I promise."
"And you'll avoid Lupin outside of classes," he instructed. "If he tries to get you alone for any reason, come up with an excuse and report directly to me. I don't trust him."
The first bell rang, echoing through the classrooms stone frame and corridors signalling the ten minutes before classes commenced. His timing was awful, her behaviour could have gone another day unremedied.
"I'll let you know if I see anything suspicious, Dad, promise," she rose to her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "I have to go."
He watched her take off at an alarming speed only children on the brink of being late could muster. He'd already threatened Lupin, and the way Hermione looked at him before the bell rang, she had to have taken him seriously.
My precious little girl, I won't let any harm come to you. I failed you last year, it won't happen again.