Hey pals! Thanks for joining me again :) Just to update you, I want to get ahead of this story while I can, so from here on I will be updating once a week to allow me to write ahead. Thanks to those who have read and reviewed so far!


When Hermione entered the Grand Hall she found it mostly empty. There weren't many early risers on the weekend, certainly no other Gryffindors yet, a bonus for her since a quiet breakfast was exactly what she needed. Taking a seat square in the middle of the long table, she eagerly piled a variety of foods onto her plate, thankful for the small moment of peace. Up at the teacher's table, most of the staff had already begun tucking into their breakfast and conversation was flowing easily. Among them, Hermione could see Dumbledore engaged in a seemingly jovial conversation with Professor Sprout, although from where she was sat she couldn't make out the details. Evidently feeling her eyes on him, the headmaster turned to look her way before giving her a gentle nod, and then turned back to the professor to resume the discussion. He didn't seem angry at her, so that was a good start. As she turned back to her breakfast, she couldn't help but scan the table again. There, she met the gaze of Professor Snape, looking at her with a hint of confusion. He furrowed his brow slightly, but as quickly as he had, he broke the stare and lazily turned his attention to Dumbledore. Hermione felt a shiver go through her, but was snapped out of that train of thought by the loud greeting of one Ronald Weasley.

"Mornin' Mione! How come you're here so bright and early? You do know it's Saturday, right?" Ron and Harry made their way over and sat down next to Hermione, Ron wasting no time in helping himself to the array of breakfast foods up for grabs. Harry was slower to sit, but helped himself to food all the same.

"Yes Ron, perfectly aware thank you. I want to get through the rest of our essays from this week, and then make sure my notes are in order for the other classes. Just because it's the weekend doesn't mean I should pass up an opportunity to learn." She heard Ron snort through a mouthful of bacon.

"Honestly Mione, it's like we're a week away from our OWLs or something! Most of those essays aren't due until the week after, and you'll have plenty of time to write notes during the Christmas break. Me and Harry were going to take a trip to see Hagrid after breakfast, but it doesn't look like he's back yet.. Still though, we can get some time in on the Quidditch pitch! You should come with! You could even take your notes..." He grinned at her, mouth still brimming with food.

Hermione bit back a sigh. There was nothing she would hate more than hanging out at the Quidditch pitch watching them fly, except perhaps trying to study outside in the cold in the middle of September. She loved both Harry and Ron like brothers, but it was moments like this where she realized they were completely different people. This wasn't about her idea of fun, however. Harry had yet to say a word, and it was clear Ron was trying his hardest to keep his spirits up. Since joining them at 12 Grimmauld Place over the summer, Harry had been, well, difficult. His anger had taken a long time to subside, and when it finally did she felt like a cloud still followed him around. He was in a funk, as her parents might say. She couldn't blame him. Even she found it hard to think back to that night at the end of the Tri-Wizard tournament, and she had only been an onlooker. She couldn't even imagine the kind of turmoil going through his head. Combine that with his friends' supposed lack of interest in his life, his ignored cries for contact, and months cooped up with that rotten bunch he had to call 'family', and it was easy to see how difficult the summer had been for him. But again, this is where they differed. Where Ron and Harry would use sports to take their minds off things, Hermione used books. She would check out every book in the library if she had to, to clear her mind of those darker thoughts. Engrossing herself in coursework was sometimes the only thing she could do to make her focus on something other than the screams and the blood and the-

"Honestly Ron, it sounds great, but I really need to get this work done. And don't talk with your mouth full. Besides, the quicker I do this, the more time I have through the year to relax with you two! Quidditch sounds fun, and I'm sure you won't miss me too much." She gave him a tired, but genuine smile. Ron returned it but she could see the disappointment in his eyes. With that, and the remains of her breakfast polished off, she stood from the table and gathered her things.

"Have enough fun for me, you two! I'll see you at dinner."


Her time in the library hadn't been quite as productive as she had hoped. Although determined to put some heavy research into her potions assignment, she had quickly found her mind drifting to the impending conversation with Dumbledore. It had only been two hours or so before she was grumpily packing up her things and heading to his office. Might as well get it out of the way, she thought, the quicker I do that the quicker I can actually get this assignment done. Now, she stood outside his door, drumming her fingers on the sides of her skirt to keep the nerves at bay.

"Enter." A cheerful voice came from within. Hermione pushed the door open with slightly less force than she had intended, making it appear as if she had suddenly lost all strength. The room almost shone in the sunlight, the light reflecting off of the many trinkets and glass cabinets within. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, dressed in a robe of purple, blue, and yellow, head resting gently on his hands as he was wont to do. She braved a smile and closed the door behind her.

"Hello Headmaster, how are you this afternoon?" He gestured for her to sit. Hermione quickly took a seat facing him, dropping her satchel next to her and clutching her hands in her lap. Dumbledore was quick to notice the tension in her body.

"My dear, I am quite well. And you?" He pushed a small bowl towards her. "Lemon drop?"

Hermione gladly took the offer of candy, hastily unwrapping it and popping the sweet into her mouth. Immediately she felt a familiar wave of calm spread through her. "Thank you. I'm good sir, taking the weekend to work ahead. I feel like I'll never be prepared enough for my OWLs." She smiled again. Dumbledore watched her intently, his eyes never leaving her gaze. After what seemed like an eternity, he nodded and let out a small chuckle.

"Ah yes, the dreaded OWLs.. My dear, if there were any student I'd place my bets on getting high marks, it would be you. Although one can never have too much knowledge." Hermione's smile widened and she felt her muscles relax further. Of course it was just about grades, what else would it be? Nevertheless, a pregnant silence filled the room, cut only by the gentle whirring of whatever strange contraptions Dumbledore had dotted around his office. It was another moment before he spoke again.

"Tell me, Miss Granger. For all that you have accomplished in your 4 years here, have you thought of what you might want to do after you leave? What kind of career path you would want to go down?"

Hermione sat up straight, considering her answer for a moment. She had had ideas, certainly, fleeting ones that never held much traction. But she'd never thought about career choices since the subject had never been broached by any of her teachers. "It's difficult to say Headmaster. I've not had any concrete ideas, although there are definitely areas of study I would like to pursue."

"Oh?" Dumbledore looked over his round spectacles to meet her eyes.

"Well, I had thought about doing something relating to healing. Perhaps not a medi-witch per-say, but something where I could experiment and create. I've always liked charms, but maybe that's just because I'm good at them. Transfiguration too. I've never really had to work in those classes, it just kind of came naturally to me. I've also found myself being more and more invested in potions since I started school, getting a potion right feels more rewarding than the work I do in other classes. It would certainly be interesting to continue that line of work after school, although I don't know if you could specialize in the healing sector and still become a Master.." She trailed off into her thoughts and looked away. "I suppose I don't have much yet." Dumbledore had leaned back into his chair, hands still clasped up in front of him. Her last suggestion had piqued his interest.

"Potions? Well, there are certainly routes you could take, although a mastery would require you-"

"To apprentice first. I know sir, I did some research on the topic." Hermione smiled sheepishly, inwardly chastising herself. Of course he would know she had done research, when did she not? Dumbledore smiled knowingly back at her, a soft chuckle escaping him. No sooner had it left his lips though, did his face turn to a concerned scowl.

"Miss Granger, how are you sleeping?" Her eyes widened, a look of confusion on her face. His, steely, kept his gaze firmly locked.

"Sleeping? Oh, um, fine I suppose. Takes me a little longer to settle at night, I guess I'm just getting used to sleeping in a dormitory again, in a room with other students. Grimmauld Place was much nicer in a way, much more peaceful." She could feel his eyes bore into her and she tried to believe herself, tried to tell herself it wasn't a lie.

"And the nightmares? Have they stopped?"

"Nightmares sir? I'm sorry, I- I don't-.." She paused, looking at her feet. She hadn't noticed her heart rate speeding up, and she took several deep breaths to try and steady it. No, the nightmares hadn't stopped, not since first year. No matter how hard she might try to pretend that they had, her mind refused to accept the lie. It had started not long after her run in with the troll all that time ago, the occasional bad dream that filled her with terror. After the events of the last four years, they had only worsened. Memories of basilisks, werewolves, dementors, all flashed through her mind at a seemingly unstoppable rate. Occasionally they would be joined by visions of things that she had only feared would happen - Harry, Ron, her parents, all dead. These days, it seemed that most nights she was accosted with a crippling fear every time she felt herself drift off. When she spoke again, it was barely more than a whisper. "No, sir."

She didn't look back up at him. Her mind had raced with the images she had been replaying nightly, and she was scared that the stinging she felt in her eyes would turn into something more. Be brave, she thought to herself, you're brave. Dumbledore stayed silent, instead standing and moving over to the fireplace, the previous nights' coals still lying in the hearth. With a small wave of his hand, flames quivered back into them, and the room was greeted with warmth to match the golden light coming in through the window.

"It is a difficult thing, to face so much at such an age. Oftentimes, it can feel as if the world has deemed you unworthy of all but punishment. Still, we can only play with the hand we are dealt, wouldn't you agree?" He looked over to her, a smile on his lips but sadness in his eyes. This wasn't a question she was expected to answer. This young witch did not deserve the torment she had been saddled with, not with a mind as brilliant as hers. However, this admission only served to further his belief that he was, indeed, making the correct choice.

"Tell me, Miss Granger. Did Harry discuss the events of the final task with you?" Hermione looked up at him once again, the same look of confusion dancing across her features.

"Of course sir," Why do you think I have so much trouble sleeping, she thought somewhat bitterly. "He told me and Ron everything."

"Do you believe him?"

An unexpected anger bubbled up within her, she couldn't quite comprehend the words that had just been spoken. Did he? Why would Dumbledore start to question Harry's words now, when he had been so staunchly in agreement with him at the end of the tournament? "Sir of course I do! Harry would never lie about something so horrific! Why would you even ask-"

"Miss Granger, please do not misread my questioning as doubt, I am well aware that what Harry described was the truth. I merely needed to know that we were on the same page." It seemed as though they were. "Miss Granger, I must speak frankly with you. However, before I do, I must have your oath that this conversation will not leave the room. Can I ask you for that?"

Hermione swallowed. The frown that had slowly developed on her face firmly remained, making her look like she was solving a particularly difficult crossword. Her hands were knitted fitfully together in her lap. "Is it about Harry? Is it about his safety? If so, I'll keep this to myself. I promise." Dumbledore looked down at the girl, and gave her a hard smile. Her determination, even at such a young age, was admirable. Albus, he thought to himself, you certainly have made the right choice.

"Very well. These last four years have been filled with more danger than I would have ever hoped for the three of you, and I am afraid it will only get worse. My dear, I have done my utmost to protect Harry through all of this, but I worry it is no longer enough. That it won't be enough for what is coming."

"You mean the war, sir?" Hermione had spent a great deal of her summer listening in to Order meetings, disillusioning herself in Grimmauld Place's expansive library, and eavesdropping on whatever conversations she could find. She had been able to discern quite a few of the Order members, especially the ones who would rather not be seen. Professor Snape, for instance, was a surprising addition. The same with Professor Lupin. Molly and Arthur Weasley, for all that they seemed determined to keep out of any danger whatsoever when outside of the Black residence, appeared to be actively involved in planning and preparation. She had also heard more than she should about this war that was coming, and that it would certainly happen now that You-Know-Who was back.

"Indeed. For all the safeguarding I give him, I fear that the time will soon come when Harry must call upon his greatest protection, Miss Granger." He exhaled slowly. "His friends."

"Me and Ron? I'm sorry sir but I don't see what we could provide that you and the Order couldn't do better." They were kids, she thought, what could they even achieve up against You-Know-Who? She looked to Dumbledore, and saw him shaking his head.

"Not you and Ron, my dear. You." He could see Hermione processing what he had said, while the expression on her face flickered between confusion and hurt. "Understand, I do not mean to slander Mr. Weasley. Your red-haired friend will surely be equally as important in the years to come, but in his own way. With a mind as brilliant as yours, Miss Granger, it would be a grave mistake if we didn't unlock your full potential. When the time comes, you alone must be ready for war."

Hermione sat silent for some time. She was being prepared for a war, not for a career. Until this moment, she had never once hesitated to come to the aid of Harry. He was her best friend, he had shown her kindness when no one else had. She would always have his back, it was an unspoken fact. But actually discussing it, actively preparing for it, this was different. She wouldn't just be a child with her focus on the future, she would need to put that to one side until this was all over. Thoughts flew through her head faster than the snitch, and she struggled to process them all. The war, Harry, danger, her schoolwork, her childhood, normalcy, danger, You-Know-Who, the war, her childhood, blood, screams, tears, terror, blood-

Dumbledore could see in her eyes the fierce resolve that she had shown since arriving at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry four years prior. Her voice wavered and threatened to betray the stoic look on her face, although Albus could hear a familiar, if quiet, confidence there.

"What do you need me to do?"


Hermione sat in the Gryffindor common room alone that evening, Ron and Harry having already retired for the night. Her head was still swimming of what had transpired in Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster had spoken at length, given her details she suspected pained him to divulge. War was indeed coming, and he was unsure if they would even end up spending all of their remaining school years in school. Her interest in potions, it appeared, had therefore been a blessing in disguise. He was more than sure that a broader knowledge in potions, especially those usable after a combat situation, would be necessary before the war was over. This would be the first of many 'improvements' she would need to make while there was still time.

"I do not want to make it sound like you are a weapon, Miss Granger. Alas, the word 'tool', or 'pawn' may seem to be a better fit, even if it makes you uncomfortable. The fact of the matter is that if we - no - if Harry is to survive this war, you will need to be ready for anything. At the present moment, it would be too dangerous to go all in on combat training within the confines of the school, although as soon as the situation presents itself we will. However, a more advanced knowledge in brewing is a good start. Potions and salves intended to lessen pain and fight injury are a must."

She sighed and curled up further into the large armchair. A fire crackled happily away in the fireplace in front of her, and her eyes fixated on the dancing flames. So, then, it had been decided that in order to prepare her for the war, she would need to start by taking additional potions lessons focusing on more advanced recipes, especially those useful for a combat situation. These would be explained away simply as extra curricular, in order to give her a better understanding of whether she wanted to pursue a potions apprenticeship at the end of her school life, or focus on other subjects. This was the story she needed to stick with, to everyone.

"Miss Granger, it is imperative that you do not divulge the real reasons behind your new lessons. Not even to Professor Snape. Although we both know that he is an integral part of our fight, I fear I have already given the boy too much to play on his mind, and I would not want your work to go noticed by the enemy, no matter how hard he tries to hide it."

She shivered at this. It was bad enough having to keep this from Harry and Ron, but she was required to hide it from the very man teaching her? Hermione understood why it was necessary, but she was not particularly fond of lying, and found it hard to hide her true emotions for a situation. A true Gryffindor, she thought. Still, she had her task, and she had until her first potions lesson of the week - Tuesday - to rehearse how she would execute it. Dumbledore's final words to her hung in her mind.

"This will only work if you are the one to broach the subject with Professor Snape, Miss Granger. You must convince him to allow you extra lessons. Although I am happy for my name to be dropped, you must claim this idea as your own. When he agrees, send him to me. I imagine he will want to discuss it."

Indeed, Hermione thought, staring into the fire.