Hermione neared the entrance to the Heads Common Room, where the portrait of Helena Ravenclaw greeted her with a welcoming smile. Stepping through the opening revealed a cozy and warm room. Inside, she spotted her roommate with platinum blond hair, comfortably settled in an armchair, engrossed in a book. She regarded him with a hint of apprehension on her face. Uncertain about how he would react to the prospect of sharing a room with the Gryffindor Know-It-All, she remained determined to give it a chance. The entrance closed gradually, enclosing her alone with Draco Malfoy. Swallowing her fears, she approached him with a resolve to make amends.
"Good evening, Draco," she began, her voice carrying a slight stutter. "I'm not sure if you've been informed yet, but I've been appointed Head Girl this year." Her tawny brown eyes observed attentively as he lifted his gaze from his book. She noticed that, even after many years, the boy she once knew remained quite pale, now more than ever. She observed the slight wrinkles on his aging face and the dark circles beneath his gray eyes, realizing that, like her, he seemed to have weathered the wizarding war unkindly.
"Good evening, Granger," his voice sounded unfamiliar to her. "Yes, Professor McGonagall informed me over the summer that I'd share a common room with you. I sense your discontent with this arrangement, but I hope that, in time, you'll grow accustomed to it."
His maturity about the situation surprised her. She had anticipated name-calling and arguments, yet he appeared almost content with the arrangement. Hesitant but intrigued, she took a few steps closer and settled herself on the available armchair next to his. Wanting to change conversations to something more comfortable she asked, "What are you reading?"
He smiled, finding amusement in her curiosity about the book in his hand. "Nothing special. Just something I picked up on the way to Hogwarts earlier this morning." He presented the front of the book, revealing the title, "All About Potions. "I am preparing for what lies ahead this year. As you know, Professor Snape is back teaching, and I don't anticipate it getting any easier," he explained.
Hermione nodded in agreement. "To be honest, I was surprised to see him here at Hogwarts. I thought after everything with the war, he would not want to continue teaching."
"I was too, but I suppose with him teaching for as long as he did, he didn't have anywhere else to go," Draco replied.
A comfortable silence enveloped the room. Draco immersed himself in his book, while Hermione ascended the stairs to her bedroom. True to form, the house elves had meticulously arranged everything for her. Her now-empty trunk rested at the foot of the bed. Clothes were neatly stowed away, and books were meticulously organized within her backpack, alongside quills, ink bottles, and parchment paper. Unzipping her backpack, she retrieved a piece of parchment paper, a quill, and a bottle of ink. Seating herself at the desk near the window, she started composing a letter to her friends Harry and Ron.
Dear Harry and Ron,
I hope this letter finds you both well amidst your adventures as Aurors. As I sit in the familiar surroundings of Hogwarts during my seventh year, I can't help but miss our shared escapades and the camaraderie we built over the years.
The Hogwarts Express journey back to the castle was bittersweet without your lively presence. It feels strange not to have you by my side this year, and the absence of your laughter and banter is keenly felt. The train ride, however, brought a wave of nostalgia, especially as I reminisced about our countless shared moments.
The Great Hall welcomed me with its enchanting atmosphere, but a part of me longed for the familiar faces of my two best friends. The Sorting Hat Ceremony brought back memories of our first year, and I couldn't help but glance at the Gryffindor table, half-expecting to see your familiar faces.
The carriage ride to the castle, drawn by Thestrals, had its own somber beauty. The majestic castle, despite the scars from the war, stands proud amidst the hills and forests. It's a reminder of the battles we fought and the triumphs we celebrated together.
The Great Hall's grandeur is unchanged, though the absence of your boisterous presence is palpable. Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout are still here, as is the ever-mysterious Professor Snape. The familiar sights and sounds evoke both fond memories and a tinge of sadness.
As Head Girl, I find myself navigating new responsibilities and challenges. Headmistress McGonagall surprised me with the appointment, and I accepted the role with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Little did I know, another surprise awaited me – Draco Malfoy as Head Boy. It's an unexpected twist, and I'll admit, a challenging one. McGonagall believes he needs a friend, but it's proving to be more complicated than I anticipated.
The Welcoming Feast ended with an unexpected announcement, leaving me with mixed emotions. I will share the Heads Common Room with Draco, and I find myself torn between duty and the lingering memories of our tumultuous past.
I know your Auror duties keep you busy, but I would love to hear from you soon. Hogwarts, despite the changes, remains a place of magic and friendship. I hope our paths cross soon, and until then, take care and keep the magic alive.
Warmest regards,
Hermione Granger
She stowed her ink bottle and quill into her backpack, allowing the ink on the parchment to dry. Once it was ready, she folded it in half and carefully slipped it into an envelope. Descending the stairs, she returned to the common room to inquire of Draco about using his owl. Spotting him engrossed in his reading, she approached him near the comfortable chair.
"Draco, can I use your owl, please?" she asked with measured politeness.
Startled by Hermione's unexpected return, Draco looked up from his book. "Yes, you can use my owl, but be cautious; she does bite and isn't very friendly." He placed a finger to his mouth and emitted a sharp whistle.
From the stairs, Hermione observed a sizable owl descending and alighting on Draco's shoulder. With apprehension, she extended her letter to the owl, allowing it to be gently grasped by its beak. "Please bring this letter to 12 Grimmauld Place," she requested in a soft tone.
She observed attentively as the owl gracefully ascended the stairs and flew out through the open window, embarking on its journey to find her friends. Turning back to Draco, she expressed her gratitude, saying, "Thank you. I'm going to start getting ready for bed now. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Goodnight." She ascended the stairs once again, entering her bedroom. After shutting the door, she retrieved her wand and cast a protective charm on it, ensuring that only she could access the room. Despite not minding sharing the common room with Draco, she was determined to guarantee her safety within the confines of her personal space.
She verified the contents of her backpack to ensure everything was prepared for the following day. Holding her schedule in her hands, she meticulously reviewed the courses she would be attending—Charms, Defence Against The Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Potions, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes. With a sense of readiness from her thorough preparations, she switched into her pajamas and nestled into her bed. Settling in comfortably, she began to drift off to sleep.
The first light of morning gently roused Hermione from her slumber as it streamed through the window. She stirred in her bed, gradually opening her eyes. Glancing at the nightstand, she noted that the time was 7:30, signaling that classes would commence in an hour and a half. She emerged from the bed with purpose, readying herself for the day ahead. Stepping into the bathroom adjoining her bedroom, she began her morning routine.
Upon entering, her eyes were immediately drawn to the lavish marble flooring, each tile meticulously arranged. The walls, cloaked in enchanted tapestries depicting scenes of magical landscapes and ethereal creatures, created an immersive atmosphere of sophistication. Soft, ambient lighting emanated from strategically placed crystal sconces, casting a warm glow that complemented the gleam of the polished fixtures.
A pristine porcelain sink stood gracefully against a mirrored backdrop, framed by gilded edges that added a touch of regal charm. A golden faucet, shaped like delicate phoenix feathers, extended from the sink, offering an exquisite blend of functionality and enchantment. The countertops, crafted from veined marble, showcased an array of carefully arranged magical toiletries, from perfumed soaps to potions designed for relaxation and rejuvenation.
The private bathroom also housed a luxurious bathing area, featuring a freestanding claw-footed bathtub with polished brass fixtures. A series of enchanted candles, suspended in mid-air, provided a soft, flickering illumination, adding an extra layer of enchantment to the space. Along with the bathtub, was a glass walk-in shower.
She entered the shower, turning on the water to let its comforting warmth soothe her muscles as she meticulously cleansed herself. Mindful of preventing frizz, she delicately washed her hair, allowing the water to rinse away any residue. Concluding her shower, she summoned a fluffy white towel with a flick of her wand, gently patting herself dry before swiftly drying her hair. Two pumps of Sleekeazy's hair potion were applied to her damp curls, and she skillfully framed them to her satisfaction.
With her hair tamed, she commenced the dressing ritual. Starting with underwear, she carefully pulled up knee-high socks, positioning them just below her knees. Slipping into a pleated skirt that aligned with the socks, she proceeded to button up a crisp, white collared shirt, neatly tucking it into the skirt. The final touches included donning a red and gold tie, emblematic of Gryffindor House, and completing the ensemble with black robes adorned with the Gryffindor crest. She slipped into her black shoes buckling them into place. Surveying herself in the mirror, she found contentment in her impeccable appearance.
Exiting the bathroom, she retrieved her bag from the floor and stole a swift glance at the clock, noting that it was now 8:00. Aware of the impending start of classes, she hastened her descent down the stairs, noticing her roommate Draco was absent. Accelerating her pace, she made her way to the Great Hall.
Upon arrival, she secured a seat beside her friend Ginny. She spooned a serving of eggs onto her plate and added a couple of slices of buttered toast. Relishing the familiar taste, she dug into her breakfast with gusto, grateful to be back at Hogwarts. Taking a few bites of her food, she turned to her friend and inquired, "Can I see your schedule?"
Ginny glanced up from her plate, delved into her bag, and passed Hermione her schedule. Hermione's delight was evident as she discovered that they would share four out of six classes. However, Ginny groaned upon inspecting the schedule now in Hermione's hands. "Looks like we have double Potions this morning," she confirmed with a grimace on her freckled face.
"Well, we might as well finish up our food and get ready for class then. You know Professor Snape would not want us to be late," Hermione insisted. She scooped another bite into her mouth and washed it down with a cup of pumpkin juice.
Ginny shook her head, amused at her friend's enthusiasm. "You seem far too eager for Potions, Hermione."
Hermione dismissed her friend's teasing and continued to savor the last bites of her meal. With a final gulp of juice, she stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Confidently, she made her way down to the dungeons, her familiarity with Hogwarts allowing her to navigate effortlessly through its corridors.
As she walked, Draco, the Head Boy, caught up to her brisk pace. "You're quite early to class this morning, Hermione."
"You sound just like Ginny," she remarked. "Being early is a good thing. It's the first day, and I'm eager to see what we'll be learning."
Draco rolled his eyes, amused. "Granger, you'll never change."
Continuing their descent into the dungeons, the air grew colder, and Hermione hugged her robes tighter. "I forgot how chilly it can be down here," she commented, shivering slightly.
Arriving at the classroom door with ten minutes to spare, Hermione pushed it open and headed toward a wooden table, Draco following closely behind, intending to sit with her. The room held a subdued ambiance, illuminated by the gentle glow of floating candles that cast dancing shadows around them. The stone walls, cool and bearing a hint of dampness, created an expansive and mysterious atmosphere. Before Hermione, a black cauldron awaited, positioned on the table for her brewing endeavors. An assortment of ingredients, meticulously labeled, surrounded the workspace in neatly arranged jars, offering a palette of magical substances. Shelves adorned the walls, displaying an array of potion-making tools—scales, stirring rods, and phials—creating an organized yet enchanting tableau. At the front of the room, a blackboard stood ready for the professor's inscriptions, complemented by the professor's desk adorned with parchments, quills, and a collection of books.
Hermione faced Draco and murmured, "The dungeon hasn't changed much, has it?"
A slight frown creased Draco's features. "Are you certain you want to be seen with me? I can find another spot if you prefer."
Shaking her head, she replied, "No need. We're both Head students now. We'll be spending plenty of time together this year. Might as well get used to it. Besides, I have a feeling you'll make an excellent potions partner."
As time slowly ticked by the room began to fill with seventh-year students. Hermione noted all the familiar faces she saw including Ginny, Luna, Dean, and Neville. Dean and Neville returned this year to finish their NEWTS after it was interrupted due to the wizarding war. The students sat waiting with bated breath for their professor to arrive.
The door began to creak open, and the students turned their attention toward the entrance, their eyes falling on a figure with black billowing robes. Professor Severus Snape entered the room with his characteristic air of authority, his greasy hair hanging in tendrils around his pallid face. His coal-colored eyes swept across the room, assessing the students with a penetrating gaze.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop as he made his way to the front, and the hushed whispers among the students quieted. Professor Snape reached the blackboard, his movements precise and deliberate. With a flick of his wand, he began to write instructions for the day's potion, his script elegant yet stern.
The students sat in tense silence, knowing that their seventh year under Professor Snape's instruction would be both challenging and demanding. The enigmatic and formidable Potions Master had returned to Hogwarts, and the classroom was now under the spell of his commanding presence.
Silence," Professor Snape commanded as he stood in front of his seven-year students. The room fell quiet, and all eyes focused on the imposing figure at the front.
"Seventh years," he began, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. "You are not here to chit-chat or waste my time. You are here because you have elected to take Advanced Potion Making, a subject that demands dedication, precision, and intellect."
He paced in front of the students, his black robes billowing with each step. The floating candles cast an eerie glow on his angular face. "This," he gestured to the blackboard, "is where you will hone your potion-making skills to perfection. Mistakes will not be tolerated, and mediocrity is not an option."
"Seventh year is not a time for frivolous endeavors. It is a time for serious study and advancement. I expect nothing less than excellence from each of you. Your N.E.W.T.s will not be a walk in the Forbidden Forest. They will be a battle, and only the most adept will emerge victorious."
He locked eyes with each student, his gaze penetrating and unwavering. "You are not children anymore. You are on the precipice of adulthood, and the choices you make in this classroom will shape your future. Approach your studies with the gravity they deserve, or suffer the consequences."
"Today, we begin with the Draught of Living Death. Do not disappoint me," Snape concluded, and with a sweep of his robes, he returned to his desk, leaving the students to face the challenges that awaited them.
As Professor Snape took command of the classroom, Hermione found herself transported back to a haunting memory. The Shrieking Shack loomed in her mind, a grim tableau of Snape lying in a pool of blood, his voice silenced. Desperation filled the air as she pleaded for him to stir, to show signs of life, but her efforts were met with an ominous quiet. Her hands trembled as she delved into her bag, extracting a bezoar, and forcefully administering it to him. She compelled him to ingest an anti-poison elixir she had hastily brewed. Yet, with time slipping away, Harry and Ron physically pulled her away from the shack, leaving Snape to face an uncertain fate in solitude.
Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted as Draco delivered a painful elbow to her stomach. "What?" she hissed with irritation, massaging the sore spot on her side.
"It's time to begin brewing," he whispered urgently, wary of incurring the displeasure of their potions professor.
Glancing at the blackboard, she absorbed the instructions with a hint of reluctance. Suppressing a grimace, she shifted her focus to her cauldron, attempting to summon her confidence. This particular potion had always posed a challenge for her, and determined to overcome it, she steeled herself for success.
Resolutely, she immersed herself in the brewing process, recalling the recipe from memory. She took her standard potioning water and introduced sea salt to the beaker. Allowing it to rest for five minutes, she patiently waited. Once the resting period concluded, she carefully poured the water into the cauldron. Next, she picked up the essence of wormwood and added ten drops to the cauldron. She moved the cauldron to a different angle and again administered ten drops of wormwood essence. After adding the infusion of wormwood to her cauldron, she reassured herself internally. Time and again, she affirmed her capability, affirming her proficiency in potion-making and vowing to prove herself once more.
Satisfied with the initial step, she progressed to chopping three valerian roots into small, squared pieces. After she finished cutting it, she placed them into a beaker with water. She let it settle for five minutes. While she waited, she was pleased to see that the potion was now a smooth blackcurrant-colored liquid.
This next step left Hermione feeling uncertain about the proper approach. The instructions in her "Advanced Potion-Making" book suggested cutting the sopophorous bean, but she vividly recalled Harry crushing it with his knife, allowing the juice to flow freely into the cauldron. After a brief internal struggle, she opted for accuracy over adherence to the book's instructions. With determination in her eyes, she took up her knife and began to crush the beans, following Harry's method. As expected, crushing the beans made it far easier to retrieve the juice that was needed for the draught.
She meticulously poured the bean juice into the cauldron, ensuring precision. Following that, she added seven drops of valerian root essence. With great care, she began stirring the potion, recalling the correct amount of stirring required. Delight filled her as the potion transformed into a light shade of lilac. Intent on preserving her creation, she shifted her stirring direction. The potion gradually turned clear, resembling water.
She grabbed the square pieces of valerian root and added seven to the cauldron. She then stirred the potion ten times counterclockwise. She put down her stirring rod and began grinding the asphodel root with finesse using her pestle and mortar. Expertly achieving the desired consistency, she added the powdered root to her cauldron. Employing her stirring rod, she stirred the potion ten times counterclockwise and eight times clockwise. Leaving the potion to settle for two and a half minutes, she wiped the sweat from her brow as anticipation built. Giddy with the knowledge that she was nearing the end of the potion-making process, she added one small piece of valerian root for the final step. Her eyes remained fixed on the potion, praying that it would turn the desired black color.
A breath she hadn't realized she was holding escaped her as joy surged through her. The potion had indeed turned black. Hermione had successfully recreated the Draught of Living Dead, and a sense of accomplishment and happiness overwhelmed her. Glancing up at the ancient clock on the wall behind Professor Snape's desk, she noted that she still had twenty minutes to spare. Cautiously, she turned her attention to Draco's potion, observing that he had a few steps left to complete.
"Keep going," she whispered almost inaudibly, ensuring her words wouldn't reach the ears of their professor. "You're almost there." She watched her companion try to complete the potion in front of him. As he began to stir, Hermione's attention drifted off again to Snape's lifeless form in the Shrieking Shack.
In the dimly lit interior of the Shrieking Shack, Hermione's heart pounded violently against her ribs as she witnessed Severus Snape lying motionless on the cold floor. A pool of blood surrounded his still form, creating a stark contrast against the worn, wooden boards. The air was thick with an eerie silence, broken only by her labored breaths.
She knelt beside him, hands trembling as she reached out desperately, as if her touch could bring him back from the brink of death. Panic surged through her veins, and she called out his name with a voice that wavered between fear and disbelief. But there was no response, no flicker of movement.
In her bag, she fumbled urgently, extracting a bezoar and an anti-poison elixir she had crafted herself. With every ounce of determination, she forced the bezoar into his mouth and administered the elixir, her movements fueled by desperation. The seconds felt like an eternity, each passing moment accentuating the reality of the situation.
Despite her efforts, time was slipping away, and her pleas for him to wake up remained unanswered. Harry and Ron, realizing the urgency, forcibly pulled her away from the lifeless body, dragging her out of the Shrieking Shack.
"No! Release me!" Her desperate cries echoed through the dimly lit Shrieking Shack as she fought against the firm hold of her friends. The urgency to save him consumed her, driving her relentless struggle to break free. Tears streamed down her face as they forcibly pulled her away, sealing Snape's fate within the confines of the shack. With a heavy heart, she was cast back onto the tumultuous battlefield of Hogwarts, haunted by the uncertainty of whether her desperate efforts had been enough to keep him alive.
Haunted by the image of his pale, unmoving face, Hermione was left with the indelible memory of Snape's sacrifice, a sacrifice that had unfolded in silence, leaving her grappling with the weight of loss and the unanswered questions that lingered in the aftermath of that fateful night.
Returning to the present, she was dismayed to discover silent tears tracing a path down her face. Battling embarrassment, she hastily used the sleeves of her robe to wipe away the evidence. Despite her efforts to conceal her emotions, she realized she couldn't escape notice when she glanced up and found her professor peering down at her cauldron. For how long had he been standing there? She swallowed nervously, observing him as he meticulously scrutinized the potion she had labored over for hours. Holding her breath, she anxiously awaited his verdict. When he finally looked up from the cauldron, his intense black eyes locked onto her sorrowful gaze.
His measured and steady voice resonated in the hushed room. "Color is acceptable, consistency seems adequate, but does it function?" Delving into his robes, he retrieved a leaf from his pocket and delicately placed it into the potion. Observing with precision, they witnessed the leaf disintegrate entirely before their eyes.
A faint smile tugged at Hermione's lips. It functioned exactly as she had anticipated. Anxiously on the periphery, she observed her professor attentively, yearning for some acknowledgment of her brilliance.
"Commendable work, Ms. Granger. 10 points to Gryffindor," Professor Snape remarked.
It was unbelievable. Throughout her years at Hogwarts, she had never managed to capture his attention or earn recognition for her achievements. No matter the effort she poured into her cauldron, or the late nights spent crafting eloquent essays, his praise had always eluded her. Yet, in today's Potions class, she had achieved it. He expressed pride in her, and Gryffindor was awarded 10 points.
"Thank you, sir," she said breathlessly.
He proceeded to the next table, examining other cauldrons. As the class gradually came to an end, Professor Snape directed, "Ms. Granger, when classes conclude for the day, I expect you to meet me in my classroom at 7 sharp. Do you understand?"
His tone brooked no argument. She nodded nervously and replied, "Of course, sir."