February 2006
"Stop it Hermione. You need to trust me" the cloaked figure said. "I cannot give you anything more than that"
She turned away from him as she held a scroll tightly in her hand.
Information. That is what he was giving her, but she needed more. The order was loosing too many people and they really needed a victory.
"Granger, I'm not ranked high enough to make sure his army collapses if i am caught. I cannot fucking risk you getting hurt in the process again, you are too precious to me."
She nodded at him but stood where she was. She heard a sigh and then felt arms around her. She could smell the faint scent of cedar wood and oak with a mix of a library. She relaxed herself into the hug and inhaled deeply, as if trying to store as much of it in her body as she possibly could.
She could feel his nose near her neck and she arched her head to the other side, giving him an open invitation and she felt him nip at her skin. Her hands rushed to his hair and a moan left his mouth and Hermione grabber his hair and pulled his face toward her.
Hermione woke up with a jolt.
This was unfamiliar.
She could feel a giddiness spreading through her body and she curled up in her bed trying to relive her dream.
She wanted to go back and finish the rest of her dream. She wanted to see where it went. She wanted to see his face.
She realised that it was an informant. The person was an informant for the order. Someone with high enough clearance would know who it was.
Harry and Ron wouldn't possibly tell her but she could ask Snape maybe? They were close enough.
Could she possibly ask Shacklebolt she wondered. He would be obliged enough to tell her owing to the fact she had saved his life multiple times over the last few months.
She occluded in her bed for a bit before she got up and washed herself. She had a shift in the hospital and she had been training a few people so that they could save more people of possible. And also because Hermione was swamped.
Hermione's day unfolded in a relentless dance of healing and strategising.
The hospital wing, once a place of respite, had become a hub of activity and under Hermione's guidance, a group of dedicated and handpicked individuals from the Order—Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Neville Longbottom, and Dennis Creevy namely—had gathered to be trained under her for helping out in the hospital wards.
They formed a tight-knit team, each member bringing unique skills and determination to the forefront, a collective force driven by a shared purpose of battling the forces at large and learn as much as possible from Hermione.
Hermione, despite her own silent struggles, did her best at training them but with her voice locked away, it was tedious.
Her wand moved with grace and precision, mending wounds and offering solace to those who bore the physical and emotional scars of the ongoing war. She would have the four of them watch her wand patterns while she wrote down the incantation that she was performing on her board for them to pick up.
The members of her team, inspired by her example, worked diligently to absorb the training she imparted. It was a struggled but after a while they all figured a way to decode her teaching methods.
The air in the hospital always carried the faint scent of medicinal potions, and the shelves were stocked with rare ingredients procured through covert missions orchestrated by the Order.
Neville Longbottom, once the timid herbology enthusiast, had grown into a confident and skilled healer under Hermione's tutelage. His expertise with magical plants complemented the team's capabilities, adding a botanical dimension to their healing repertoire.
Susan Bones, hitherto known for her prowess in defensive magic, delved into the intricacies of counter-curses and protective wards. Her meticulous approach mirrored Hermione's own, creating a synergy that fortified the team's ability to ward off the dark forces that besieged them.
Dennis Creevy, the youngest member surprised Hermione quite a bit as he picked up the training really quickly and also brought an eagerness to learn and a fresh perspective that invigorated the group. His enthusiasm was refreshing and the rest of the healers felt motivated by his presence.
Hannah Abbott, a skilled herbologist and talented healer in her own right, added a layer of botanical expertise to the team. She was actually quite skilled with brewing potions. Under Hermione's guidance, she explored the healing properties of magical herbs and plants, expanding the team's repertoire of remedies and was often out foraging for ingredients with Hermione.
Hermione was training Susan to be the field healer that she knew they needed. Curses were flying around during each and every raid and sometimes, it would be too late for them if there was no healer on the field to prevent a death. She remembered seeing this first hand in her memories well to often.
In the quiet moments between patient care and her potion and spells deconstruction sessions, Hermione's mind often wandered to the elusive memories of her time in the field. The void created by her erased recollections gnawed at her, leaving a lingering sense of incompleteness.
Everything had always left her wanting for more.
The hospital wing, had now become a training ground—a crucible where the team honed their skills and exchanged invaluable insights.
Hermione, unable to speak, communicated with precision through written notes, intricate wand movements, and the silent language of the healing arts. She even invited Neville with her to deconstruct some recent spells used in the field.
The team, in turn had responded to her with a camaraderie forged in the crucible of shared purpose and after a long long time she felt a part of something.
Horace Slughorn, undeterred by the failure of his Mandrake potion to break Hermione's curses, continued to collaborate with her and the team quietly and secretly, as it was apparently an unauthorised use of resources and Slughorn had not gotten this approved from Moody or even Harry.
Together, they had secretly talen a deep dive into the nuances of magical flora, seeking alternative solutions to curses that defied conventional methods.
Their experiments with rare ingredients and ancient texts marked a relentless quest for the elusive breakthrough that could turn the tide in the war, or more like give them more time to find a way to break Voldemort's constant digressions.
The training sessions were rigorous, conducted in the rare moments when the demands of the hospital allowed. Hermione, despite her own struggles, found solace in imparting her knowledge to the eager learners.
In the past month, the urgency of the war had escalated. Order meetings were convened more frequently, and crucial decisions were made to counteract Voldemort's evolving tactics.
Hermione, however, found herself confined to the hospital wing, her time consumed by the unending stream of wounded fighters. It really frustrated her but she knew there was really no choice. She had to save her patients.
She however, missed the discussions, the strategic planning that once involved her voice and going out actively in the field. She really missed being able to talk to her friends and be able to explain her feeling to them, and she missed whoever she saw in her dreams. It felt like she was being tormented for a crime she didn't even remember committing.
The weight of her silence pressed upon her, a reminder of the sacrifices demanded by the ongoing conflict.
In the busy hospital wing, where people were always coming and going, Hermione noticed Snape's presence in the castle one too many times. She wanted to talk to him and find out more about what was going on, but every time she tried to get close, he quickly apparated away.
It made Hermione frustrated because she really wanted to talk to him. It had been a few months since she had been able to communicate with him. It was so much easier earlier even though he disliked her because now it felt like he avoided her out of pity.
So, she made up her mind to follow him secretly the next time she hears about an order meeting, which, to her surprise was happening today.
Hermione didn't want anyone to know she was following Snape, so she kept to the shadows. She watched him from a distance, trying not to be seen. She cast a confundo charm on herself as she moved around.
Snape moved quickly through the castle, as if he was in a hurry, and Hermione quietly followed, careful not to make any noise.
She was determined to discover what was going on. As she followed him, Hermione thought about the things that Snape might know. Was it some new information regarding Voldemort? Was it a new curse that they had developed? Was it some kind of intelligence that could tilt the scales in their favour? Or was it something that had made him turn distant from her?
He was a person who kept to himself a lot, and there was always an air of mystery around him. Hermione knew that he had a deep understanding of magical arts, and she wanted to learn more from him.
Despite her lack of voice, she believed that Snape might hold the key to some of the answers she was searching for.
Cloaked in Harry's invisibility cloak as well as a confundo on her, she trailed Snape through the dimly lit corridors, navigating the castle's labyrinthine passages.
They descended into the dungeons, where the air carried a heavier aura of secrecy. As they reached the door to the high clearance Order meeting, Hermione strained to hear the muted voices within.
Just as she leaned in to catch a fragment of the conversation, a charm was cast on the door, blocking any external auditory intrusion. Frustration welled up within her as she stood in the shadowed hallway, hidden from the eyes of those inside but barred from their discussions.
After what seemed like an eternity, the meeting concluded. The rest of the order walked out with their heads hung low, whispers afloat in the corridor.
She heard a few whispers about some High Reeve but then Snape, Harry, and Shacklebolt remained inside, continuing their discussion about something that seemed to be of great importance, their hushed tones betraying the gravity of their discussion. Hermione lingered in the invisibility cloak's concealment, trying to catch bits and pieces of their conversation.
The corridor echoed with a tension that matched the atmosphere of the war outside. Snape, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Harry found themselves in an impromptu confrontation with the door ajar and so, Hermione, unnoticed, listened from the shadows as Snape accused Harry and Ron of aiding in the creation of Voldemort's secret weapon.
Snape's voice, though typically composed, carried a weight of accusation. "You and Weasley," he sneered, "contributed to the creation of a weapon, driven by nothing but your own egos. Selfishness has always been your defining trait Potter, exactly like your father's."
Harry's face contorted with anger at Snape's words. "You don't fucking understand. We did it for Hermione!" he retorted vehemently.
Snape's eyes narrowed; scepticism etched across his features. "For Miss Granger? Ah I see. And does Miss Granger know this great deed you did? Spare me the noble act, Potter. How do you think she will react when she remembers or if things start coming back to her, and I must say what you did was without either party's consent here. You are goddamn lucky that her memory is gone. Your idiocy has put everyone at risk, and her supposed benefit is but a byproduct, but only in your own little head. Before Weasley and your little stunt, we actually had him on our side and now look where your little act of goodness has gotten us."
Harry, his frustration escalating, shot back, "We did it to protect her, to give her a fighting chance. You wouldn't understand sacrifice, Snape. Besides, it was based on the information YOU gave US"
Hermione could sense his rage, but for once, she didn't want him to calm down. What the fuck was happening. Seriously, she wanted him to explode. She wanted to know how and why she was involved.
It seemed like Snape held more regard for her than Harry had for this incident.
Snape's lip curled into a derisive sneer. "Sacrifice? And who, if i may ask, has made this sacrifice? Miss Granger losing her ability to speak or worse, remember anything? You have made anything but sacrifices Potter. You were selfish because you wanted her to stay with you forever so you could have a shot at your so-called family in the future instead of doing what was best for her and letting her have her happiness with him just because your and Weasleys tiny ego could not function with the thought of the two of them together. The only sacrifice here, is Miss Granger's, who, well again, thanks to you and Weasley's stupidity does not even remember making it."
Harry went quiet and Snape just took that as an invitation to continue.
"Your actions jeopardise the very cause you claim to champion and your arrogance blinds you to the consequences that the rest of us will be suffering with. I asked you to wait. I asked you to wait Potter, until I confirmed the said information. By the time I told you it was false news and was spread by the Dark Lord to check for spies in his Army, because we had been giving you so much information, he was suspicious, your stupid little deed had been done, destroying not just 2 lives that day but multiple lives to come in the future. Do you know what all I have done, to make sure he doesn't remember? Because if he does with his current training, that you ensured the dark lord gave him personally, you will all be dead in a heartbeat and your little dream of having this big happy family is going to be a dream forever. It is time to wake up Potter and see what it is like in real time. "
Hermione could see the vein in Harry's head about to pop yet his head hung down in shame. She could see the guilt in his eyes. She gasped internally as she realised what this information had meant for her.
They all knew about him but did not want Hermione to know. Intentionally. She needed to keep everything a secret.
She turned back to look at Harry and now his mouth was curled up as if in disgust and from the look on his face, he was about to argue or just launch himself at Snape.
Sensing the tension in the room, Kingsley Shacklebolt, a figure of authority and reason, intervened.
"Enough!"
His voice echoed clearly through the corridor, commanding attention.
"This is not the time or place for personal disputes. We are in the midst of a war, and unity is paramount. Save your grievances for a more opportune moment."
The three men, caught in the gravity of the situation, exchanged intense glances. Snape's dark eyes bore into Harry's defiant gaze, and Kingsley's stern expression brooked no disobedience.
"This disagreement is not productive, even though I see where Snape is coming from," Shacklebolt continued, his tone unwavering. "Our focus should be on the imminent threats we face, not internal conflicts. Understood?"
Snape's lip curled in a final display of disdain, but he nodded in reluctant agreement. Harry, though seething with anger, nodded as well. The acknowledgement of the greater cause hung heavily in the air.
As Shacklebolt turned around, Snape's low voice cut through the tension. "This is not over, Potter. You know she deserves to know and at some point I am going to tell her."
Harry shot back with a defiant glare, "Nor is it for us, Snape. You remember your vow."
Hermione, still concealed, watched as Snape nodded at Shacklebolt and then wordlessly apparated away, leaving behind an air of unresolved tension. The weight of their confrontation lingered in the corridor, a stark reminder of the fractures within the Order.
Once alone, Harry let out a frustrated breath.
"Bloody hell, what the fuck is his problem" he muttered under his breath. Kingsley, a seasoned leader, placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Personal conflicts distract us from the greater goal, Harry. We can't afford to lose focus now."
Harry nodded, his jaw clenched. "I know, but Snape... he's just so, i wish i could throttle him sometimes." His voice trailed off, frustration etched across his features.
Shacklebolt's gaze softened. "Snape has always been a complex ally. His motives are a secret, but we must find common ground for the sake of the Order, and you know he is right this time. This did happen because you obliviated him."
Harry looked ready to argue but Kingsley quickly continued, "Yes I know, you thought it was for her own sake, and if I were in your place I would have probably done the same thing, but, not the way you did. Miss Granger is smart and logical and she would have figured it all out eventually once she knew what you had heard. You acted too hastily, without even confirmation. You did a lot of relatively irreversible damage" And at this Hermione hears Harry sigh.
"I know you are right, but it's done now. Not a day goes by that I don't regret what happened last year. I don't think she will ever forgive me if she finds out what we did. She still... has dreams of him i think."
"Harry," Shacklebolt's voice was kind, "It is all in the past now, and we can only just move forward now. We need to plan for Friday. Once all this is put behind us, you can talk to Miss Granger and explain. It would be best if you did tell her about all this. Perhaps, she will understand your hasty steps, yet pure intentions then, but for now, you know we need to prepare ourselves, not just for the battle but for the imminent losses we might face soon" Harry nodded and gathered his stuff as he prepared to walk back to his room.
As the two men walked away, discussing strategy and the impending challenges they faced, she pondered the cryptic puzzle piece Snape had introduced. It was a fragment of information that her mind was begging to unravel.
Hermione retreated to her room, the weight of unanswered questions pressing heavily on her mind. The confrontation between Snape, Harry, and Shacklebolt had unveiled fragments of a past she couldn't grasp, a puzzle with missing pieces that begged to be assembled.
She couldn't shake off the feeling that something significant had been hidden from her, locked away in the recesses of her erased (perhaps stolen now) memories.
Sitting at her desk, she retrieved her journal, a trusted companion in her quest for understanding. The quill glided across the parchment as she poured her thoughts onto the pages as she wrote down everything she had heard.
Questions and uncertainties spilled from her mind, forming a chaotic web of inquiry. What was the sacrifice Harry mentioned? Why did Snape accuse them of acting without her consent? And what was the significance of "High Reeve"?
The echoes of Snape's accusations lingered—accusations that hinted at some act committed by Harry and Ron for her supposed benefit as she wrote it all down.
It gnawed at her, the idea that something important had been kept from her knowledge. She wanted to go and confront them both, but she knew she needed to wait. She needed to find more, so she didn't commit some kind of similar mistake that Snape had just accused Harry of doing.
They didn't want her to know just yet and she wanted to discover more about her dreams in secret
As the ink on the parchment dried, Hermione's determination solidified. She couldn't rely on fragmented memories or vague allusions. If she was to uncover the truth, she needed to delve into the depths of her own past, even if it meant confronting uncomfortable revelations and her nightmares.
The following day unfolded with its usual rhythm, but Hermione's mind was consumed by an insatiable need for answers. As she moved through the hospital wing, tending to patients and navigating the intricate dance of magical healing, her thoughts remained tethered to the enigma surrounding her erased memories. She was restless as she finished her shift
Later in the evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across Hogwarts, Hermione found herself in the library.
The musty scent of old books surrounded her as she pored over volumes on memory charms, dark magic, and clandestine rituals. It was a journey into the arcane, an attempt to piece together the puzzle of her forgotten past. She needed to find something so she could break free from her torment.
A hesitant knock on the library door interrupted her contemplation. Startled, she looked up to find Luna Lovegood standing at the entrance. Luna's silvery eyes gleamed with an otherworldly wisdom.
"I sensed that you were searching for something, Hermione. The Wrackspurts told me." Hermione chuckled at Luna's peculiar yet endearing manner. She nodded at her and beckoned her to come sit with her. Luna glided into the library, her flowing robes creating an ethereal aura.
"Memories are curious things, aren't they? Sometimes, it takes a bit of magic to bring them back, but sometimes, maybe recollecting and regathering information could do the trick."
Hermione's curiosity sparked as she looked on Luna's face but there was nothing that gave away what Luna was thinking.
"How long has it been since you've been on an actual raid Hermione?" and Hermione went back into her archive of memories, trying to remember the time when she was actually on the field. She could vaguely remember being there right before her accident, but her memory had a lot of gaps.
She shook her head signalling to Luna that she doesn't actually remember.
"Maybe that's where you should begin." and with that Luna was out of the door before Hermione could even ask her what she meant.
Hermione sat in the library as Luna's cryptic words lingering in the air. The idea of venturing back into the field, into the heart of the conflict, felt like stepping into the unknown.
However, Luna's intuition had a way of nudging the truth, and Hermione knew that unravelling her past might require confronting the very scenes she had tried to forget. Fuuck, she knew she had to go back.
In the following days, as she continued her duties in the hospital wing and intensified the magical training for her team, Hermione mulled over Luna's advice.
She needed to bridge the gap in her memory, to retrace the steps that led to her present predicament. The notion of returning to the front lines of the war, where curses and chaos reigned, held a mix of trepidation and anticipation.
The next evening, with determination in her heart, Hermione gathered her resolve and approached Kingsley Shacklebolt.
In a quiet corner of Dumbledore's office, away from the prying eyes and ears, she gestured for a parchment and quill. The silent exchange conveyed her intention—she wanted to join the upcoming raid, and she wanted him and Moody to train her to be as vicious as them on the field.
She walked out before he had a chance to answer because it was not a question Hermione was posing but more like a statement she was making him aware of.
She knew she could do it, she had no doubts about that in the least, after all everyone knew, she was the brightest witch of her age.