"You're lying."
That was the first thing that any of them said, the first reaction they were able to conjure up. The words spilled from Harry's mouth, the only logic that made sense. Because Matthew couldn't be dead. He simply couldn't. He'd been there from the start, in King's Cross, helping him get to the magical platform. Without Matthew, he would never have met Hermione that day. The wizarding world had solely been painted through the lens of having that friend by his side. And now he was being told that that stalwart, that unwavering presence in his existence, wasn't going to be there anymore.
Choosing to believe that there was a mistake was the only way things became comprehensible.
Sirius was holding onto his arm with a death grip, presumably picking up on Harry's agitated behaviour. Maybe he thought Harry would do something to Dumbledore, the man who dared to break this news. Maybe he thought the emotions running through Harry would be too much, putting them all at risk. Because, the last time he'd been put in such a stressful, confusing position, he'd produced a torrent of pure magic that had deflected the most powerful curse away like it was a stinging hex. There was no telling what he'd inadvertently do if things grew to be too much to properly deal with.
Hermione was sobbing, as if she was accepting this story as the cold, hard truth. Her parents stood watch over her, allowing their daughter's tears to stain their clothes. Katherine's eyes were wet too, and Harry couldn't tell whether they were born out of agony for the boy's fate, or sympathy for the heartbreak her child was now experiencing. It made Harry feel bad. Because why wasn't he crying as well? Was there something wrong with him? He told himself that, until he got irrefutable proof, he didn't have to believe it, which meant that the tears would be pointless. They could wait until they were worth something.
"I truly wish that I was," Dumbledore answered sombrely.
Harry wanted to accept that the old man would have been struggling too. After all, he'd been the first one to properly interact with Matthew after he'd been forced to flee from his home. Lost in a time unknown to himself, Matthew had relied on the headmaster. Dumbledore was as much Matthew's guardian as the boy had needed, no matter how independent he claimed to be. For Dumbledore, was it akin to losing a child? A grandchild? Harry wanted to acknowledge his grief. But he'd been the one to break the news and, therefore, he was responsible for the pain Harry was now feeling.
"He can't be dead. We…we were just speaking to him this morning."
"The suddenness of the event will make this even more difficult to accept, I know that…"
"You said that it was Death Eaters who did this."
Sirius' grip tightened. "Harry, you don't need to be thinking about how it happened. It'll only make this worse for you."
He looked up at his godfather. "Do you know the details? Have you been told?"
Sirius looked distinctly uncomfortable. "...yes. Just before you got here. We were all briefed by Moody. When it became clear that something had happened, we were all called to the school. When I was making the journey, I don't think I even considered that it could be something like this."
"Moody? Why was Moody involved?"
"He was…the one to find Matthew's body," Dumbledore explained gravely. "He was the person I trusted to enter the scene and be able to identify whether Matthew had truly been involved in the incident."
"Did you know beforehand? Did you know that Matthew was going to be there?" Harry could feel his voice growing louder as the anger took hold but he didn't bother tempering it. "Did you send him there? I still don't even know where everything happened! Tell me! I deserve that! Me and Hermione both deserve that!"
"The attack took place in Diagon Alley. Why Matthew was there is as much a mystery to me as it must be to you. A large squadron of Death Eaters ambushed him from what we can tell from the wreckage. He was outnumbered and, even with his abilities, it was too much for him."
"But you sent Moody to check…"
"Because I was told by the sole surviving witness of the attack, barring the perpetrators, before any Auror reports could get back to the Ministry. She told me everything that happened, which was when I asked Alastor to verify her claims, along with asking your parents and guardians to come to Hogwarts as quickly as possible."
"She? There was a witness? How did she get here so quickly?"
Nothing was making sense to Harry. Perhaps the shock of the news was impacting his ability to absorb information. But the story wasn't following any logic. And the longer that persisted, the more Harry became certain that it was all fabricated. To what end, he didn't know. He just understood that those doubts would make it hurt even more when it turned out to be true, but that didn't stop him from believing. Hermione had been shattered by the revelation, which meant that it was up to him to maintain faith for the two of them.
"Her tale is a remarkable one. Emilia Borrant, a former Hufflepuff student if I remember correctly, who was working in one of Diagon Alley's many shops. From her account, she was with Matthew when the attack occurred. In a final act of bravery, it would appear that he forcefully apparated her away from the Death Eaters, placing her at the very edge of Hogwarts' wards. The wave of magical energy involved in the process was detected by my numerous artefacts designed to protect the school from attack and, as you can imagine, I knew what readings to expect when it came to Matthew's unique magical signature. I found her upon the grass, dishevelled and emotionally distraught, and she was the one to break the news to me."
"He…saved her?"
"Indeed. Miss Borrant would have been killed alongside Matthew if it wasn't for his actions."
"Where is she now?"
"The Hospital Wing. She has been put through a massive strain, both mentally and physically. Madam Pomfrey is watching over her."
"I want to see her."
They all turned their attention to Hermione, whose tears had finally stopped falling for the moment. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were puffy, but that didn't take anything away from the fire in her gaze. She'd detached herself from the comfort of her parents and Harry knew it would have taken a stronger person than any in that room to say no to her request.
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Hermione looked at the woman with her arms folded. Emilia Borrant. That's what Dumbledore had called her. By all accounts, a perfectly normal witch who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was currently sitting up in bed, looking weak and feeble, shaken up from the experience. Whether that was down to the trauma of facing a bunch of Death Eaters or travelling hundreds of miles against her will in a matter of seconds, Hermione didn't know. She also didn't care.
Every fibre of her being was telling her that she should have felt sorry for Borrant. After all, the woman hadn't asked to be brought right into the middle of a fight. But, all her life, Hermione had prided herself on being rational. It was her main characteristic, something that everyone expected to see in her. So, from her point of view, she was allowed this one time where her heart was able to overrule her mind. And her heart was yelling at her to never forgive this person for being involved in Matthew's death.
After her plea to see Borrant in person, she and Harry had been escorted through the school towards the Hospital Wing. It carried a different energy to the frantic pace they'd used when McGonagall had marched them away from the Great Hall to Dumbledore's office just a short while before. A sombre air filled their lungs and threatened to poison them. Students watched them go by but, for once, chose not to ask questions. Their expressions must have told the full story straight away. Hermione had no doubt that the gossip would be circling already.
"She shouldn't be being disturbed right now," Pomfrey tutted, fussing over her patient. "She needs rest more than anything. You've had your answers from her."
"Poppy," Dumbledore said quietly. "You'll understand why this has to be done."
He gestured his head to a motionless Hermione, though she didn't pick up on the subtle movement. She was simply staring at the other woman, who attempted to smile meekly in return. It wasn't an expression that was copied. At that moment in time, Hermione earnestly believed that she would never smile again. She thought of all the jokes Matthew had told over their years together, and all the times she'd laughed unabashedly. It wasn't his kindness or his protective nature or his inquisitive mind that she would miss most of all, but the joy he'd injected into her life.
"It's okay," Borrant assured the nurse. "I knew this was going to happen. Matthew said it would happen."
Hermione's nostrils flared. Something inside her snapped. Because how could this person dare use his name so casually, as if she'd known him remotely as well as they did? She wanted to lash out. Her parents had always wished to see her magic in action and, if Borrant tried her luck with saying the wrong thing for a second time, then they'd likely get a front row seat to that spectacle. Just not in the fashion they might have expected.
"Why you?" Hermione asked.
Borrant smiled despite herself, the sort of smile you gave when the situation was too awkward to contend with. "Pardon?"
"Why did he save you? Why did he die for you?"
"Hermione," her mum hissed, attempting to drag her back by the arm.
She easily escaped her clutches, moving closer to the bed. "What makes you so special that he sacrificed himself to help you?"
"I…I don't know," Borrant answered shakily. "I…didn't mean for any of it to happen. He could have walked into any shop along with the high street. I was with him when the Death Eaters first appeared so…he must have thought that he had an obligation to protect me. You know, after inadvertently dragging me into the mess. And, trust me, I'm not blaming him for that. I wouldn't do that. I'm immensely grateful for what he did, albeit still confused, as you must be too."
"You understand though, right? From what I've been able to gather, you were surrounded by Death Eaters."
"Yes. It's not a sight that I'm going to forget anytime soon. Whenever I close my eyes, I see their masks looming over me."
"You were surrounded, which gave Matthew a choice. He could either defend himself…or he could get you out of there. And we all know what decision he came to, seeing as you're sitting right in front of us."
"'Mione," Harry risked saying. "You can't blame her for what Matthew did. If there was any chance of saving someone, you know he would have taken it."
Her eyes burned with tears now and she turned to face her friend. Her one and only friend. The one friend she still had alive, who was doing his best to provide her with some sort of comfort when his own heart must have been shattering. And it stung to know that she wasn't able to return the favour. Not just yet. There would come a time when her pain was diluted enough for her to share it with Harry, lessening its impact on the both of them. But that time wasn't in the near future from what she could tell.
"Oh, because that was always what he was like, wasn't it?" Her voice was raised and Pomfrey looked like she wanted to scold her, but the nurse was evidently too anxious to intervene. "He had to be the hero! Even in our second year, remember? A great, big Basilisk is barrelling towards him and he still opts to put his body on the line for another student he barely knew. I should have seen this coming. I should have beaten some sense into him before allowing him to leave. Why…why couldn't he just be selfish , just this once?"
"He wouldn't have wanted to live if it came at the cost of someone else's life."
"And yet his death has destroyed mine, so what was the point? He deserved…better. He deserved better than some deserted street. And he was alone. He was alone in the end, which he was always scared of. He would have been scared, and I wasn't there to at least comfort him."
The realisation dawned on Hermione as to why the bitterness was so strong in her chest. She wasn't angry at Emilia, not truly. Her survival represented everything that was good about Matthew. No, Hermione's ire was directed at herself, for allowing him to leave, for not keeping him within her sight when there were so many threats in the world. She should have fought harder to keep him at Hogwarts. If she'd done that, then she wouldn't have been standing there now. And, if she'd argued too much to the point that she herself got expelled, then she would have been there, in the deserted street, to protect him.
"Oh, Hermione," her mum cried.
Hermione didn't need any more of an invitation. She was quickly being engulfed by the arms of her mum, burying her head against her chest as the sobs returned. She felt so pitiful, especially with the room containing some of the most powerful wizards and witches. But Hermione's ability to care had reached its lowest point. At times, she'd pushed herself to the absolute limit to impress Matthew, to compete with him; now that he was gone, what sort of motivation did she have to keep striving for the best?
"Could I say something?" Emilia asked nervously.
Hermione turned to face her. "What?"
The other woman beckoned her over and, whilst wiping her face to remove the worst of the tears, Hermione wandered closer to the bed once again. It was difficult to leave the enduring comfort of her parents, but her curiosity was piqued, particularly since Emilia was finding the courage to talk directly to her after the way she'd acted. What was even more surprising was that the older witch gently held her hand once Hermione was hovering over her, bringing her ever closer.
"The last thing that Matthew ever said to me was a simple instruction," Emilia explained, speaking through a strained, teary smile. "He wanted me to tell you…that you shouldn't lose hope. Even now he's gone, you shouldn't lose hope. In his last moments, he was thinking about you, worrying about what you'd be like once you found out. It isn't going to make the pain any easier, but it does show that he cared deeply about you."
Hermione hadn't thought it was possible, but her heart broke a little more. She didn't know whether the others had heard, but a part of her hoped they hadn't. This was hers. They were words specifically designed and chosen for her, ones that she would hold onto until she was able be reunited with Matthew, in one form or another. She wanted to drop to the floor in anguish, wishing that she could return the favour, wishing that she could have one last opportunity to tell him how much she cared. Her eyes clamped shut, refusing to allow any more tears to fall until she was alone.
"Thank you," she managed to say.
"You're very welcome," Emilia returned. "I just wish that we could have met under different circumstances. And, for what it's worth, I understand why you fell so hard for him. He was a charmer. I only got to know him for a very brief window, but his vibrancy was dazzling. I have no doubt that that's why the Death Eaters came for him. He represented the antithesis to the darkness they enjoy."
"I'm starting to see why he wanted to look out for you." Hermione bit her lip. "I'm sorry. For berating you so forcefully, when you didn't deserve any more torment."
Emilia patted her hand softly. "I understand. Truly. Just…don't let those criminals taint whatever memories you have of Matthew, okay? That's how they win."
"We won't let them win," Harry said firmly, reminding Hermione that they still had company. "If it's the last thing I do, I'll destroy every single one of them for what they did."
"Normally, I'd be concerned about what you're saying," Sirius remarked. "But, right now, I'm fully onboard with the plan."
"Are we really going to rectify violence with more violence?" Peter asked, his brow furrowed in consternation.
"That's the only message those animals understand, dad," Hermione explained.
It must have hurt her parents to hear her talk like that, as if she were nothing more than a battle-hardened soldier. But she was tired of hiding the complete truth from them. Matthew's death exemplified the dangers of their world, meaning it was now unavoidable. She was only starting to realise that, in the heat of the moment, she'd divulged the presence of a basilisk in Hogwarts, something that she'd never let slip in front of them before, and something that would no doubt be brought up when she was more emotionally stable.
Hermione slowly left Emilia, walking so that she could stand in front of Dumbledore, looking him straight in the eye. "I want her gone, by the way."
The headmaster frowned. "Who? Miss Borrant? She still requires medical attention. It would be best if she's monitored overnight, at the very least."
"No, not Emilia. She can stay for as long as she needs to for all I care. I'm talking about Umbridge. I want her out of the castle. She's the reason why Matthew was isolated enough to be attacked. You can tell the Minister that any alliance he wants with the school will be put to an end if she stays here, for the part she played in killing Harry Potter's best friend. He should be wary of the headlines in the Prophet if he's not careful."
"Miss Granger…"
"Frankly, I don't want to hear it. If she stays, then me and Harry leave, and that's the sort of PR disaster that neither you nor Minister Fudge can handle at the moment. Isn't that right, Harry?"
"You know I'll follow you whatever you decide," the boy in question dutifully answered.
"School used to be all I cared about, until a boy tapped me on the shoulder and helped me with my luggage over four years ago. Now he's gone, and Hogwarts suddenly has a lot less within it for me to care about, headmaster. I know I shouldn't be speaking to you like this and, trust me, I'll be mortified when I think about this conversation later, but I want you to know something. You were involved in the decision to expel Matthew as well but, if you get rid of Umbridge soon, I'll be willing to forgive you for that role. If not…I'm certain you'll be losing two more students today."
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Harry had never seen the Great Hall without the colours of at least one of the school houses, but it was draped in black by the time the morning came. Sleep had been fitful, with imagined reconstructions of Matthew's fate swimming through his mind, meaning he wasn't remotely in the right headspace once breakfast arrived. He would have opted to miss the meal, and the scrutiny that would undoubtedly come with it, if it hadn't been for Ginny Weasley cautiously telling him and Hermione that Dumbledore was due to address the school.
For once, the long tables, full of children, were not full of chatter. They waited with nervous anticipation for the headmaster to walk to the podium. Some students had attempted to come up to them whilst they sat there, most of them Slytherins, but the surrounding Gryffindors kept any curious minds at bay. A shield had formed around the two of them, seemingly orchestrated by Ginny. Neither he nor Hermione had the strength to thank her for her efforts; they just hoped she'd understand how grateful they were.
As Dumbledore readied himself, Harry took a moment to scan the head table, analysing the expression of all the professors. Hagrid was repeatedly blowing his nose into a giant handkerchief, with Flitwick and Sprout unsuccessful in their attempts to soothe him. Lupin was as ashen faced as he might have been around the full moon, making no move to touch his food. McGonagall was like a statue and, for the first time since he'd been going to Hogwarts, Harry noted that her clothes weren't pristinely kept. Snape looked the most normal out of all of them but even he wasn't glaring with his usual intensity.
There was no sight of any pink clothing.
"It is difficult to look upon you all this morning," Dumbledore began, appearing all his years. "Knowing that there is one less face looking back at me. Today, we must acknowledge a most devastating loss. As you all know, Matthew Mormont was larger than life. His ability to command a room could best even mine. And yet, for those who truly knew him, they might have considered him a quiet boy, who enjoyed peaceful company and a good book most of his evenings. He was exceptionally hard-working, infinitely fair-minded and, above all else, the fiercest of friends.
"His is an absence that can already be felt. It was his unwavering loyalty to those he cared about that resulted in his recent expulsion, though that didn't take away his true status as a student of Hogwarts. He never accepted injustice and, even in his final moments, he was making a stand for what he believed in. For that, he is owed the decency of his story being told. For that, you are all deserving of knowing how he truly died. The papers that come this morning will be printed with his tale, as a means of spreading his example across the community.
"Because Matthew Mormont was murdered in cold blood. He was murdered by the followers of Lord Voldemort because he represented everything they stand against. He was kind and accepting, willing to put his life on the line for those he loved, as well as those he didn't even know. His fate will frighten you. It will encourage you to act in a different manner, to isolate yourself and to only look out for your own interests. But doing so will taint his memory and the legacy he has left behind. Lord Voldemort and his legion of supporters wish to break our spirit by breaking one of our strongest allies.
"I will tell you this: Matthew Mormont's death does not make me want to run away and hide. It instead incites me with a stronger determination than ever to ensure his demise was not in vain. Let him be an example to you all. Let his death bring us closer than ever before because, if we can accomplish that, then Lord Voldemort's power over us will be rendered non-existent. Then we will not need to have another dark day like this one.
"All Matthew Mormont ever wanted was to find his people and I truly believe that he got that at Hogwarts. You will all understand how close he was to Mister Potter and Miss Granger. It was his love for them that drove him every day. It was his fear of losing them that empowered him to keep them close. Think of those you care for deeply and imagine how far you'd be willing to go in their name. Matthew Mormont's very existence should be proof enough that love is all that matters, particularly in these sobering times.
"So I ask of you just a few things. Please, respect Mister Potter's and Miss Granger's privacy in this most trying time. Allow them the opportunity to mourn and properly commemorate their friend's life. But do not forget that wonderful boy, no matter what your house allegiances may be or where you may come from. Because our hearts beat as one when we are united like this and, today, our hearts are broken at what has been taken from us."
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Hermione's hands shook as she perched on the end of her bed. Thankfully, no one else was in the dormitory with her. The other girls had given her a wide berth, which was probably the nicest and most considerate thing they'd done for her since they'd all come to Hogwarts. All the other students too had resisted the temptation to ask questions, even if some of them looked fit to burst with curiosity. Dumbledore's speech had brought the school populace closer together, at least for the time being.
Matthew would have been embarrassed about having such a fuss made about him.
She really wished that she could have laughed, picturing what his face would have been like. He would have complained to no end, claiming that he wasn't special, claiming that the school didn't need to come to a standstill just because of him. He probably would have found it amusing how he, as someone who had had his fair share of run-ins with the Slytherin contingent, was posthumously bridging that House divide. Hermione just wished that she could have heard him moaning playfully, along with his laugh and exaggerated sighs.
She picked up the small, wooden box that was currently dominating her attention. It took a couple of seconds for her to find the courage to open it, eventually doing so because she knew she needed to go through with this. She hoped that it would somehow ease the pain. Hermione reached inside, pulling out a piece of worn string, which had a silver key attached to it. It was completely unassuming to anyone without prior knowledge, yet it was the most magical thing to her.
The key to the Tardis.
As she held it up in front of her face, she watched it spin lazily, coming to the realisation that she was now technically the owner of the ship. Was that why Matthew had brought it up in his final words to her? Had he known that something was waiting for him around the corner? Or had he simply wanted her to wear it, as if it signified their unwavering connection? If that was the case, then she was all too willing to oblige, even if it threatened to make her cry once more. Because she was only doing it now when it was too late.
Hermione thought back to the last time she'd been in the Tardis, when it had been floating high above the castle. It was going to be one of her fondest memories, for sure, as she pictured the snowy scene. Matthew had asked her to dance and she'd taken his hand all too willingly, the two of them slowly spinning in one another's arms until their legs ached, and even then they'd refused to stop straight away. Now she remembered it, one of the songs that had filled the air could have easily foreshadowed the way she was feeling now.
One hand took the string and the other moved her hair out of the way, allowing Hermione to place the unorthodox necklace where it belonged at last. The key felt heavy against her throat but whether that was because of the weight of the metal or the significance it carried, she didn't know. Hermione simply sat there, looking down at the key and replaying that night in her head, when things had seemed so calm and isolated away from the bustling world.
The world that had taken her dance partner away.
I'll see you in my dreams.
When all our summers have come to an end.
I'll see you in my dreams.
We'll meet and live and laugh again.
I'll see you in my dreams.
Yeah, up around the river bend.
For death is not the end.
And I'll see you in my dreams.