Battle of Hogwarts pt. 1
The night was alive with chaos and despair as the battle raged outside. Hogwarts Castle, once a sanctuary of learning and magic, now loomed like a fortress of fear. Its towering stone walls, shadowed and scarred by the war unfolding around it, seemed to pulse with dark energy. Hermione Granger stood at the entrance, heart racing, her wand gripped tightly in her trembling hand. The acrid scent of smoke and the metallic tang of blood filled the air. She was standing next to Draco who was anxiously twisting the ring on his finger, Theo stood directly behind her in line with the clan of Weasleys, ginny and harry were holding hands standing adjacent to the remaining DA members who had shown up for the battle, Tonks and Snape stood off to the side with Kingsley, Dumbledore held the rear trying to stay as concealed as possible. She could hear the distant shouts and screams—the clash of spells, the cries of the wounded—and yet, she forced herself to focus. One goal burned in her mind:find Nagini.
The castle corridors stretched before her like a labyrinth of shadows, every turn fraught with danger. Death Eaters lurked in the darkness, ready to strike. But it wasn't them she feared. No, it was the serpent—Nagini—Voldemort's last Horcrux, the final piece of his twisted soul. Hermione had heard tales of the snake's power and deadly cunning, but nothing could have prepared her for the reality of facing it alone.
"Accio Nagini!" she whispered desperately, but the spell fizzled in the air. Frustration and fear clawed at her. She was running out of time.
Suddenly, a deafening explosion shook the castle, and she stumbled, clutching the wall for support. The ground trembled as if the very foundation of Hogwarts was being torn apart. A roar echoed through the halls, followed by a chilling silence that sent shivers down her spine. Heart hammering, she pushed forward, drawn to the source of the disturbance.
Turning a corner, she froze as she spotted a high tower window, its view revealing a scene that made her blood run cold: the grounds outside were a battlefield, and at its center stood two figures locked in a deadly duel. Dumbledore, his robes billowing like the wings of a great bird, faced Voldemort, encircled by his Death Eaters. Their wands blazed with power, the air crackling as curses flew between them.
"Dumbledore," Voldemort hissed, his voice a sinister whisper that carried through the chaos. "You should have stayed hidden."
Hermione watched, breath held, as the Dark Lord's wand slashed through the air, a bolt of green light speeding toward Dumbledore. But the old wizard was ready, conjuring a shimmering shield that absorbed the curse with a thunderous crack.
"Your darkness cannot overshadow the light, Tom," Dumbledore replied, voice firm and unyielding.
But Voldemort's laughter rang out, a cruel sound that sent a chill down Hermione's spine. "Light? Foolish delusions! Let's see how long you can hold out against the inevitable!"
Magic collided in the night—flashes of green, red, and gold tearing through the sky as the two powerful wizards battled. The ground beneath them shuddered with each spell cast, and the dark shapes of Death Eaters closed in, their eyes gleaming with malice. The fight between the two barely seemed human, just flashes of light bounding across the courtyard, slashing and destroying all that surrounded the magic. It was as if the men were in their own bubble separate from the chaos around them, the most terrifying thing was that the wizards seemed easily matched and Dumbledore seemed to grow sloppy with fatigue. And then, in a blinding surge of dark energy, it happened.
"No!" Hermione gasped as Dumbledore staggered, his defenses shattered by a curse so dark it seemed to leach the very life from the air around them. Voldemort advanced, his eyes blazing with triumph, and with a single, vicious strike, he sent a jet of black magic straight into Dumbledore's chest. Dumbledore's eyes seemed to pop out of his head. The man gripped the sides of his skull screaming out in pain. His head started to swell, cracks of bone were sharp as they cut through the screams of the others battling it out. And then the blood started. Blood poured out of his nose and ears, Dumbledore reached up and attempted to wipe it away but it flowed steadily. He screamed in agony falling backwards, and then his head seemed to reach the limit and his head exploded. splatters of blood and brain matter sprayed across the grass. The mans face was stuck in with his mouth wide open and his eyes shadows of agony. He was dead.
Hermione's scream tore through the stillness as the headmaster, the beacon of hope for the Order and all who fought against Voldemort, crumpled to the ground.
"Dumbledore!" Ginny's anguished cry echoed from somewhere outside. But there was no time for grief. The battle was still raging, and the Order was thrown into disarray. Hermione turned back into the depths of the castle, panic surging through her veins.
She had to find Nagini. They had to end this—now, before more lives were lost. Every second counted, every heartbeat a reminder that their time was slipping away.
Suddenly, the screams of terror erupted again from the battlefield below. Hermione skidded to a halt, peering through another shattered window just in time to see a pack of werewolves charging toward the Order's ranks. Dean and Seamus stood bravely against them, wands flashing, but the werewolves were relentless.
Dean and Seamus were fighting valiantly, their wands casting a flurry of spells against the advancing creatures. But as the werewolves drew closer, their growls grew louder, filling the air with a sickening tension.
Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she watched the horrific scene unfold. One werewolf lunged at Dean, ripping into him with its razor-sharp teeth. A strangled cry escaped his lips, and before she could react, the creature tore out his throat, blood spraying across the ground.
"Dean!" Seamus screamed, terror etched across his face as he stumbled backward.
But the werewolves were relentless, and in an instant, they were upon him as well. Hermione could hardly bear to watch as they tore into him, dragging his body across the grounds, blood painting the snow a horrifying crimson.
The scene was surreal, an image burned into her mind. This wasn't just a battle — it was carnage, chaos, and despair. She felt as though she were watching from the depths of a nightmare, helpless and trapped.
She turned away, bile rising in her throat. There was no time to mourn. For Dean, for Seamus, for Dumbledore—she had to push forward. She sprinted down the winding halls, the castle itself seeming to whisper her doom. The walls closed in, shadows twisting and dancing in the flickering torchlight.
Then, a low hiss echoed from the darkness. Hermione froze, breath hitching as a slithering form emerged from a hidden alcove—a flash of dark, glistening scales.
"There you are," she breathed, heart hammering. Nagini.
But before she could act, another figure rushed into view. "Hermione!" Harry's voice cut through the tension as he skidded to a stop beside her, eyes wide with worry. "We can't waste time—we need to end this."
She nodded, throat tight. But just as they prepared to strike, the air grew colder. A dark, suffocating presence filled the corridor, and they turned as one.
Voldemort stood at the end of the hall, his gaze fixed on Harry. A cruel smile twisted his lips. "Potter," he whispered, raising his wand.
"No!" Hermione shouted, pushing Harry behind her. "Go! I'll find Nagini!"
But Harry shook his head, fire blazing in his eyes. "We fight together."
And then Voldemort attacked. Spells flew, the walls shaking with each blast. Hermione ducked and dodged, trying to keep her focus as the battle raged around them. She caught a glimpse of Nagini's tail disappearing around a corner.
"Harry, I'll be back!" she shouted over the roar of magic, sprinting after the snake. She had to do this. She had to end this, so harry wouldn't have to.
—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—
Flashback: Christmas of '93
The Gryffindor common room was a haven of warmth and light against the chill of the winter night outside. Soft golden glows from the flickering candles and the crackling fireplace filled the room, casting gentle shadows that swayed lazily along the walls. The scent of pine from the Christmas tree mingled with the aroma of the christmas cookies laid out on the table.
Ron and Hermione sat huddled on the couch, wrapped in thick blankets. The common room was quieter than usual; most of the students had gone home for the holiday. The festive cheer that had filled the room earlier had ebbed, replaced by a somber stillness as the gravity of the world outside pressed in on them.
"Do you think," Ron began slowly, staring into the fire's dancing flames, "that we'll ever have a normal Christmas again?"
Hermione looked at him, her eyes soft and shadowed. She knew what he was really asking: Will we ever have peace again? Will Harry ever be safe?
"I don't know," she whispered, drawing her knees up to her chest. "We haven't had a normal Christmas, whether it was the pair of you researching the sorcerers tone or brewing Polyjuice, or spending the holiday here trying to protect harry from that madman Sirius Black on the loose. Everything's changed, Ron you've noticed that wherever harry is there is danger that follows."
The words hung between them, heavy and unspoken for so long. She bit her lip, gaze drifting to the side.
Ron followed her gaze, his expression tightening. "We'll never be normal, will we?" he murmured. "Harry's never going to have a quiet life, not with—you know—all of this out there, haunting him."
Hermione nodded slowly, her fingers twisting in the edge of the blanket. "It's not fair," she said softly. "It's not fair that he has to carry this burden alone."
"Yeah, but he's not alone, is he?" Ron's voice was rough, a hint of defiance shining through. He turned to look at her, his eyes fierce and determined. "We're with him. We've always been with him, and we're not leaving. Not now, not ever."
She met his gaze, and something inside her tightened painfully. They had talked about it in vague terms before—being there for Harry, standing by him through thick and thin—but tonight felt different. Tonight felt real. She could see it in the way Ron's shoulders tensed, the way his jaw clenched as if bracing himself for a blow.
"He's our best friend, Hermione," Ron continued, voice barely more than a whisper. "And he's going to need us. More than ever."
Hermione's throat constricted. "But what if… what if it's not enough?" The question escaped before she could stop it. "What if—what if something happens to us, Ron?"
For a long moment, he didn't answer. The fire crackled softly, and the branches of the Christmas tree rustled as if the castle itself was listening, holding its breath.
"Then we have to be ready for that," Ron said quietly, his gaze steady on hers. "If something happens, if… if we have to put ourselves in harm's way—" He swallowed hard, his voice thickening. "We do it. Because it's Harry. And because without him, everything's lost."
A silence fell over them, deep and aching. Hermione felt her heart twist painfully at the truth of his words. They had always known, deep down, that there would be sacrifices. But saying it aloud, acknowledging that they might have to lay down their lives for Harry—it made it terrifyingly real.
"Ron, I…" she began, but he shook his head.
"No, listen to me," he interrupted, reaching out to take her hand. His fingers were warm and solid around hers, grounding her. "I'm serious, Hermione. If it comes to it… I'm willing. I'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe. Because he'd do the same for us."
Hermione blinked back the sudden sting of tears. She knew Ron meant every word. They had both seen the darkness closing in, felt the weight of the danger that hung over them like a sword waiting to fall. And Harry—Harry, with his stubborn bravery and selfless heart—would always be at the center of it.
"It's not just about Harry surviving," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. "It's about making sure he gets to live. Really live. Have a life after this is over. Even if we—"
"Even if we don't," Ron finished quietly. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Yeah. I get it."
The tears slipped down her cheeks then, silent and unstoppable. She looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the boy she had known for years, the boy who had stood beside her through every trial and danger, the boy who would walk into the jaws of death for the friend they both loved.
"Ron…" she whispered, the words failing her.
But he just shook his head again, his own eyes suspiciously bright. "I know, Hermione. I know."
They sat there for a long time, hands clasped, staring into the fire as the flames flickered and danced. The room was silent around them, the only sound the quiet crackle of wood burning and the soft hum of the wind outside.
—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—
The sound of laughter echoed through the corridors, chilling her to the bone. It was a high, cruel laugh — Voldemort's voice ringing out across the grounds.
"Foolish children!" he taunted. "Do you really think you can stop me?"
She stood tall trying to look as strong as possible, but in the depths of her mind, doubt crept in. Could they really win this fight? With Dumbledore gone, and their numbers dwindling, was there any hope left?
The thought was almost paralyzing, but she forced herself to push it aside. She was Hermione Granger. She was a soldier now, and she would find that snake.
Before Hermione could protest, Voldemort unleashed a powerful curse, and Harry dove out of the way, instinct taking over. The curse struck the wall behind them, exploding in a shower of stone and dust.
"You think you can protect your friends?" Voldemort taunted, his voice echoing menacingly through the corridor.
With a quick flick of his wand, Harry conjured a shield, deflecting another curse from Voldemort. "You won't win this time, Tom!" he shouted defiantly.
As their duel began, Hermione felt the ground shake with the force of their magic. She knew she needed to find Nagini before it was too late, but her heart ached to leave Harry to face Voldemort alone.
"I'll be right back!" she yelled, turning on her heel and sprinting further down the hall, hoping to evade the chaos that was unfolding.
—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—•••—
Theo had been searching for Hermione, desperate to understand the connection between them all. As he navigated the fray, he saw her rush away from Harry, and instinctively followed her, his mind racing.
He found her just as she reached another darkened corridor, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Hermione!" he called out, skidding to a stop in front of her.
"Theo, we need to find Nagini!" she exclaimed, glancing over her shoulder as the sounds of battle intensified.
"I know," he replied, his expression grim. "But I just realized something… I think I know why Blaise stopped being loyal to the Dark Lord."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, brows furrowing in confusion.
"It's clear that Voldemort has a leg up," Theo explained, urgency lacing his voice. "It has to be something that can destroy the Order… something like Harry."
Hermione's heart dropped. "What do you mean?"
"Harry has to be a Horcrux," Theo said, his voice steady but filled with dread. "It explains the connection he has with the Dark Lord. Why harry was able to get through both his mothers and Voldemort's wards in Godric's Hollow. It's why Blaise felt Voldemort would win. One cannot exist if the other lives. Harry would have to die for our side to win, not just theirs."
The implications of Theo's words hung in the air between them, heavy and suffocating.
"No… it can't be," Hermione whispered, her mind racing. "He's our friend. We can't let that happen."