Chapter Text
August 1st, 1998.
A cool, crisp summer breeze ruffled through Hermione's hair as she walked the path to Hogwarts. The chatter and laughter of children rang all around, the buzz of excitement at starting a new year spread like fire. It warmed everyone but Hermione.
It felt wrong for her to be happy here, so soon after the War. Everything reminded her of the final battle, or of their time in hiding, or of the years of events leading up to it. The Shrieking Shack where they discovered Sirius' innocence followed by Pettigrew's escape. The Forbidden Forest so similar to the Forest of Dean. The rocky shores of the lake mimicking the rubble of the demolished Castle... everything, from the smallest of bugs to the tallest of trees found a way to remind her of the past seven years. She said she wasn't going to come back, that things were still too sensitive to her. She contemplated leaving the Wizarding World all together.
On May 4th, there was a mass funeral service for everyone who had passed from the War. Someone built a memorial into the wall across from the Great Hall. An anonymous doner gifted the money and resources to properly honor everyone, a plaque on the wall within the Castle and a plot of land in a Memorial Graveyard. Someone managed to etch a photo of each person on their plaque, followed by their name and the day their life was taken. It helped give faces to the names no one knew, giving them a life in death.
Hagrid built the Graveyard on the empty grounds by his hut. He worked day and night until it was complete, and then he buried everyone himself after the mass funeral. Whoever had made the plaques helped him carve the headstones, regardless of if their body laid there or not. The pair ordered them on date of death, identical to the Wall. He added little benches in front of the more 'popular' graves. The thought came to him when he found Harry sitting in front of his parents' headstones. He sat on the grass for hours, motionless, quiet. He only left when Professor McGonagall pulled him to have a check-up done.
Hermione observed those who didn't have visitors. Myrtle Warren, Benjy Fenwick, Edgar Bones... she picked wildflowers from the edge of the Forest and placed one on every plot as she committed their names to memory regardless of their status.
Myrtle Elizabeth Warren, 11 February 1929 - 13 June 1943
Regulus Arcturus Black, 25 June 1961 - 28 March 1979
Benjy Robert Fenwick, 17 May 1960 - 17 March 1981
Dorcas Elizabeth Meadows, 2 April 1960 - 19 June 1981
Marlene Victoria Eugenia McKinnon, 16 June 1960 - 14 July 1981
Edgar William Bones,14 June 1959 - 23 August 1981
Gideon Ignatius Prewett, 31 March 1945 - 7 September 1981
Fabian Nathenial Prewett, 31 March 1945 - 12 October 1981
James Fleamont Potter, 27 March 1960 - 31 October 1981
Lily Jane Potter née Evans, 30 January 1960 - 31 October 1981
Bertha Grace Jorkins, 12 August 1957 - 2 August 1994
Cedric Amos Diggory, 7 September 1977 - 24 June 1995
Broderick Brecken Bode, 29 December 1947 - 5 January 1996
Sirius Orion Black, 3 November 1959 - 18 June 1996
Amelia Susan Bones, 17 April 1972 - 9 August 1996
Emmeline Florence Vance, 11 December 1957 - 10 August 1996
Florean Ivan Fortescue, 29 February 1920 - 10 August 1996
Samara Jane Abbott, 2 September 1959 - 17 October 1996
Octavius Montgomery Pepper, 7 November 1966 - 1 May 1997
Charity Diane Burbage, 23 February 1957 - 18 July 1997
Alastor Glenn Moody, 29 March 1948 - 27 July 1997
Rufus Augustus Scrimgeour, 9 June 1938 - 1 August 1997
Edward Edward Tonks, 9 January 1952 - 8 March 1998
Dobby, 28 June 1743 - 14 March 1998
Colin Harold Creevy, 3 May 1981 - 2 May 1998
Orla Aster Quirke, 30 November 1982 - 2 May 1998
Michael James Connor, 28 February 1979 - 2 May 1998
Tracey Roselle Davis, 17 October 1979 - May 1998
Justin James Finch-Fletchley, 15 April 1980 - 2 May 1998
Wayne Dylan Hopkins, 14 February 1980 2 May 1998
Ernest David Macmillan, 23 April 1980 - 2 May 1998
Dean Henry Thomas, 31 August 1979 - 2 May 1998
Seamus Keir Finnigan, 1 March 1980 - 2 May 1998
The last two names stung her the worst. They were so young, so in love... and just like that, they were gone.
At least McGonagall had the decency to bury them together. Afterwards, she gave Hagrid the idea of including a monument off to the side dedicated for the thousands of Muggles lost to the senseless War.
On May 16th, the Ministry held a service for all War heroes, providing them with proper awards and titles. Hermione, Harry, and Ron all received an Order of Merlin, First Class. Several others did as well, including their former Potions and Dark Arts Professor.
Harry's first mission once Voldemort was destroyed was to save Snape. He couldn't make an exit, so he sent Hermione in his place. Well, more like without him. She had already planned on rescuing the wizard.
Assuming a disguise, she quickly stumbled her way back to the Shack. She managed to avoid any stray Death Eaters or Scavengers, much to her surprise. She expected many more to still be fighting. A number of Aurors assumed the same and searched the grounds, likely why she made it there safely. She dashed up the steps, down the hall, and fell to the floor beside him. She ignored the blood soaking into her clothes. She immediately began treating the wound, despite his discontent. He fought to keep his eyes open and rambled incoherent words. She took it as an attempt at saying 'let me die'. Instead of fighting him, she gently caressed his cheek with her hand, her body warming his freezing skin. His eyes fluttered close as he leaned into her hand. A look of relief washed across his face.
The witch felt bad removing her hand, but she had to so she could clean his wound and begin healing him. She managed to stop the bleeding just long enough for her to administer potions. She hoped he had foreseen this possibility and had brewed something to treat the venom with the proper antivenin. She lightly fondled his body to see if he stashed any vials and felt a little annoyed that he hadn't prepared for this. She knew he saw this as a probable outcome, and his lack of preparation seemed idiotic. However, the little note she found in his breast pocket that read 'Forgive me, Minerva' told her everything.
He expected to die.
So, by some miracle, she kept him alive. She herself had seen a potential outcome similar to this, whether to him or her, a death by Nagini was plausible. Aside from a range of other potions, she brewed an antivenin for her, Ron, and Harry to regularly drink in case that was their future. The witch gave him a heavier dose and hoped it would work until more skilled professionals arrived.
They patched him up the best they could, administered some more potions that were 'good enough', and rushed him to a private room at Saint Mungo's. He was in a comatose state for several days. Harry visited him after he woke up. To say he was pissed is an understatement. The negative energy radiating from him shattered glass, speaking for him while he couldn't. Harry helped him write his testimony and provide memories for his 'trial'. While Snape couldn't have cared less where he ended up, the persistence of the boy was enough for him to finally sign over whatever he needed so long as it gave him solitude.
His trial lasted only a few hours. It didn't take much for the Wizengamot to clear him of past actions. Albus Dumbledore (who found a way to fake his death) helped testify his innocence. That really solidified their decision, since his main crime was murdering said wizard. After a little debate, they even declared that he should receive an Order of Merlin, First Class. He was awarded one at the Ceremony. Despite being allowed to, he didn't show. No one was surprised. Harry accepted it on his behalf and dropped it off at the Hospital. Snape was eventually released to his home to heal. No one but him knows if that medal ever went with. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he threw it out on his way back.
Sometime between Snape's trial and the date of the Ceremony, Harry and Ginny's set their wedding for May 25th. It was incredibly short notice and would give hardly anyone recovery time, but they didn't want to wait anymore. They couldn't. They saw firsthand how short life can be and decided to spend as much of it together as they possibly would. There was the hesitation of it going through because Ginny wasn’t seventeen yet, but Molly and Arthur understood their urgency. And of course Molly went crazy with planning back at the Burrow. Hermione stayed with them for those few weeks as they all gathered themselves. She decided to help Molly prepare as a sort of 'thank you' (but also a distraction). One of the days was spent shopping with the Wedding Party. Ginny titled both Hermione and Luna as Maid of Honor, unable to choose one person, and Harry felt the same way about Ron and Neville for Best Man.
Dress shopping was one of the last times Hermione entered the Wizarding World after the War. She no longer felt safe in this world that she was created for. The pack of Aurors following their group is the only thing that let her or anyone feel comfortable enough with shopping. Thankfully, everyone found the perfect attire in hardly an hour and could return back to the Burrow to continue planning.
The day of the wedding eventually came. Everyone was a mess in their own ways. Percy cried because he's a wedding crier (apparently), Arthur cried as he walked his daughter down the aisle. Many guests cried from the maturity forced upon the pair because of the War. And for several others, Hermione included, they cried at the empty front row, each chair decorated with a place card of a lost loved one. Kingsley volunteered to be the Officiant. He managed to bring smiles to faces. For a few hours, all bad memories and worries went away as they watched Harry and Ginny get married, and celebrated after. Photos were taken, speeches were given, toasts were had. Everyone ate plenty of food and dessert. The dancing followed after a little break to let stomachs settle.
Harry and Ginny were the first to leave. Everyone toasted the new couple one last time as they left for their honeymoon. A lot of people stayed afterwards to continue eating (nothing could compare to Molly Weasley's cooking), or dance, or simply chat with friends. Hermione left the wedding almost immediately after the couple. She packed her bag the night before for an easy get-away. Thankfully, everyone was still so distracted by the wedding that her departure went unnoticed.
So, the witch went back to her home.
Her empty home.
Her parents were still gone. She didn't know what their new life entailed, but it didn't involve her, and she was okay with that.
The first thing she did was clean. Everything had been covered in a thick layer of dust due to the absence of life for nearly a year. Automatic paying had been set up to cover the necessary bills while she was gone, but no one was there to keep maintenance. It gave her a nice distraction, cleaning did. It was only a few days after she moved back that she received a letter from McGonagall stating she could come back to re-do her Seventh Year if she wished.
Hermione wasn't going to come back.
She told herself that years ago. She would do whatever it took to win the War, then whatever it took to clear names and safely retreat to her home where she could relive life as a Muggle. The thought of finishing her Seventh Year crossed her mind, but she knew the Castle would hold too many memories for her to peacefully live there another year. Merlin knows she was already plagued with nightmares and restless days. She nearly killed the postman when he delivered something.
"I need a therapist." She whispered to herself that day, clutching her wand tightly to her chest. "I'll see a therapist, and then I'll leave the Wizarding World."
Hermione decided to visit a witch therapist (Muggleborn, of course). She knew she needed to talk to someone about the War (amongst other things) and possibly get medication to help. She didn't want to go to therapy because it would mean admitting she wasn't as strong as she put off, but it was needed.
Her psychologist, a Muggleborn witch named Vivian, understood entirely what Hermione was going through. Their first session, she offered an Unbreakable Vow to keep anonymity, knowing it would make her feel safer. She never pushed the girl into saying something she wasn't comfortable with. Vivian offered many different coping mechanisms alongside ways to help regulate herself during a panic attack. She also prescribed her a few different medications to treat the several disorders she'd gained.
The psychologist even convinced her to go back to Hogwarts to finish off her '7th' year. She claimed, 'If you don't, you're letting the evil from the War continue to win. You need to go to confront these evils and show that you're stronger than them' or something like that. She didn't quite know what the woman said. Her own mind had wandered away weighing the 'Pros and Cons' of returning. After a lengthy debate, she made the decision to return.
So, Hermione sent in a letter stating that she'd be attending and filled out the living arrangements section stating she'd like her own chambers in the Dungeons. Why the Dungeons, she didn't know. Her hand circled it of its own volition, and she didn't stop it. The next time Ron stopped by, she gave him her papers to owl.
And then she obliviated Vivian of the past few weeks. She couldn't risk anything.
The remaining days went quickly. She decided not to sell her parents' house. She couldn't anyways, because they'd need to be there for paperwork since everything was in their names. Maybe she would try and find them. Their banking account was still set up with regular deposits to keep it funded, and she assumed that her father found work wherever they ended up. If she really wanted to, she could have the bank pull up transaction histories and see where they were.
If she wanted to.
But she didn't.
They were happier without her. She knew that for a fact.
She knew she wouldn't live in the house after graduation, though. Too many memories lived in those walls. She could rent it out. That she might be able to forge documents for that, and the extra money would be nice. By no means was she hurting for cash, but it would just be an extra sum to put in her parents' account. She'd rent a flat once the school year was over. She has enough to buy a nice little house outright, but a house was too big for just her. Sure, she'd have her friends over and once they had kids, them as well, but a house was too big for someone with no family of her own. She'd find a decent flat in the middle of town. Not far from the shops, not far from work. The perfect little place for her.
Just her.
On one of the last days, early in the morning, the girl bought a new set of robes and clothing, bought some more toys for Crookshanks (who thankfully lived at the Burrow while she was gone), and got the list of supplies she needed for the upcoming year, all in disguise, of course. Harry and Kingsley offered to send her with Aurors. She politely declined, claiming she'd feel like less of a target without guards silently telling everyone her status.
Eventually, August 1st rolled around. The school decided to start a month early this year to allow for more frequent breaks for the students. On top of a Winter Holiday and Easter, they got a week in October, a few days in February, and a few days in May, as well as the occasional Monday or Friday here and there. The conductor arrived at King's Cross precisely eight. The entrance to the stationed opened a quarter-til. Hermione was the first one there and the first to board. If it weren't for her desire to be alone, she would've stood in front of that wall, Crookshanks' carrier in one hand, her beaded bag in another, for hours. This was a step back into the world she said she'd leave behind. But she did force her way through and found a secluded compartment and warded it to the nines to keep everyone out.
That was hours ago.
The train came to a halt at its counterpart station by the Castle. She waited for people to clear off until the point where 'last checks' were done by the Aurors before taking her leave. Crooks was released from his confines, his crate shrinking to fit into her bag, which was then stuffed into her pocket. The cat decided to walk by himself a few paces ahead, glad to be back to a familiar place of roaming. His discomfort of being in the carrier was long gone when he ran off to find something to hunt.
And now she's back at the present.
"Hey Granger, we can fit one more on the wagon." She turned her head at the mention of her name to find a nearly-packed carriage. Inside resided mostly Ravenclaw 7/8th years with a handful of Hufflepuffs sprinkled in.
"No thanks. I'd rather walk to stretch out my legs from the train." She half-smiled, waving it off.
"You sure? I think we're the last ride of the night."
"I'm fine. I'm almost there anyway." She gestured vaguely in the direction of the Castle, hinting at the fact it would only be another few minutes of walking.
"Okay, if you say so." The Ravenclaw put his attention at the Thestral pulling the carriage. He whispered a few words, and it started trotting again.
Hermione waited until they were out of sight before sighing to herself, readjusting her grip on her wand. She still never walked without it in hand. She continued on with the walk to the Castle, nothing but her thoughts to keep herself company.
-
After another twenty or so minutes to herself, the brunette finally reached the large doors. The sounds of everything around her seemed to ring much louder than normal - more than likely because she hadn't been around such noise in a long time. She whispered a quick spell to muffle noise before walking over the threshold.
One of the Professors, Ms. Vector, handed out a little itinerary of the night. Hermione promptly thanked the witch as she took the paper and walked over to the cluster of chairs labeled '8th years'. She looked at the small group of students. Everyone came back for one last year of normalcy.
Except for those who died.
An ache settled in her heart from their missing presence. She just knew that Seamus would be setting himself on fire as he continued to turn water into alcohol, and Dean would be laughing at his singed robes. Colin would've been taking thousands of photos of everyone. She swallowed the rising emotions. She spotted Harry and Ron sitting more in the open area chatting with some others she vaguely recognized. She briefly debated sitting with them, but decided to take the seat at the end near the wall. She'd rather be 'alone' until the ceremony started. She glanced over the itinerary in her hands as she waited.
8pm - Starting with Year 8, Years will walk in and sit (at respective tables) sectioned off by their level. 1st years are the only exception, as they will be arriving with Professor Hagrid.
8:30pm - Sorting will commence with 1st years, going alphabetically. Students will be reassigned a house and will then go sit with their house, new or same, in their year's section. Once sorting has finished, students are free to sit wherever they'd like at their table.
8:45pm -
Hermione didn't bother with reading the rest of the fifteen-minute increments (though it wouldn't take that much time for each groups' sorting). They went down the list of years until eighth are sorted, and from there it was the same as usual - a big speech from Dumbledore, the introduction of each professor, the announcement of Head Boys and Girls, the announcement of Head Prefects, Heads of Houses, the rules for the year, any additional comments needed, and finally the feast.
"Looks like someone decided to show up." The dreaded voice of Lavender Brown caught her attention. She didn't bother looking up from the paper, not wanting to give her any bit of attention.
"The mudblood thinks she has power here?" Lavender scoffed, attempting to take the paper from her hands. The girl predicted her moves and turned just in time, causing a bit of a scene on the blonde's end as she attempted to balance herself from nearly falling.
"Leave me alone Lavender." She mumbled as she glanced up, hatred laced in her voice. "I've not done anything to you in over a year. Or ever."
"I FINALLY got to see my Ron after the War ended. I confessed my feelings that I know he still has, but he told me that he's gay." She spat the word out like it was dirt on her tongue. "The only reason this could've happened is from spending so much time with you."
Not true. During an interview Ron and Harry did a few days after the wedding was set, someone asked Ron if he planned on marrying a witch anytime soon. He revealed that he figured out he was gay when he was younger, and he would be marrying a wizard down the road. He told Harry and Hermione long before that (and likely Seamus and Dean), but it was a shock to everyone else when it hit the papers. Some were excited, others (definitely not Lavender) were clearly in denial.
"Ron was with us for about five collective months. We hid for ten. I highly doubt that changed him."
"Well, he was fine before and now he's broken! You probably tried kissing him, didn't you? He was probably so grossed out by it that he became gay. Now I'll have to spend a few days trying to convert him back so we can start dating again." The blonde huffed in annoyance as she looked longingly at the object of her affection.
"Or, maybe, what if he's gay because he likes guys and will continue to stay gay because he'll continue to like guys?" This sarcastic comeback struck a nerve in the girl. She bent down to Hermione's level to make sure she heard her following statement.
"Mess with me or my relationship with Ron and I will make sure no one in the world remembers your name." Lavander all but growled, pulling the paper from Hermione's hands. She immediately stood back up and fixed the wrinkles of her skirt. "By the way, you might want to skip tonight's dinner. Your sweater is a little too small to hide lunch." She snickered as the girl discretely tried to adjust the garment.
It wasn't true.
Hermione was thin.
After the War when she was getting examined, the Medi-Witches found she was extremely underweight. They assumed it was from her time on the run, and now that she was safe with plenty of access to food, she'd put it back on in a few weeks. Or, since she was going to the Burrow afterwards, a few days. Harry and Ron each gained about nine kilos in the first week. That, however, was not the case with the witch. Her flat stomach and the growing gap between her thighs were not a result of the War with Voldemort- it was from the war of herself versus her mind.
And the enemy always won.
"That's what I thought, piggy." She muttered low enough for her to hear before sauntering off to find her 'Won Won'.
I'll just skip the feast tonight. I was never a fan of the food anyways. She thought to herself, wincing as she felt the rubbing of her tights against her thighs. I should've nixed them. She grimaced. The girl turned her attention to the Head Table for a change.
Dumbledore sat proudly, his white beard and twinkling glasses bringing a hatred deep within her. She always suspected he was alive. Well, she hoped he was. She wanted to kill him herself for the hell he put everything through. During Snape's trial, he mentioned that a prisoner from Azkaban (sentenced to death) was Polyjuiced and Imperiod to impersonate him. When he and Harry came back from the cave, Snape helped switch the two before Harry could notice. It wasn't surprising in the least that he had, but when he randomly appeared in the court room... it was shocking. Not that I ever believed he was dead. It's Dumbledore.
Some of the other staff had taken their places. A few she recognized, such as Professors Binns, Babbling, Sinistra, and Trelawney. The Heads of Houses were running around in attempts to ease the students in confusing event. Well, all but Snape. He had chosen one spot towards the middle of the Head Table and stayed there, not bothering to move. The Snakes had the intelligence to ask one-another first or try and deduce things themselves before going to him. And Hagrid, their beloved Grounds Keeper, was currently rowing students from the Station to the Castle per tradition. Some things would change, but the introduction of young minds to their future in the Wizarding World would never.
Hermione checked her watch. It was nearing 8:15. The sorting would start soon. She had already heard dozens of bets made on sortings. The highest she heard was nearly twenty galleons. Probably Harry, Ron, or I. Hopefully I get Ravenclaw. She thought to herself, wondering if their students were any nicer. I doubt it. Padma came back. She'd make my life miserable there, too. Maybe Hufflepuff? Yeah right, the goody-two-shoes Gryffindor Princess, 1/3 of the Golden Trio, in Hufflepuff! She snorted inwardly at her own thoughts, knowing it was a stupid idea. I guess that leaves Slytherin, but no way in hell would the Hat ever put me with the Snakes. I think Gryffindor is the safest. What's one more year?
The sound of the Hall doors opening dramatically brought her attention to the entrance. Hagrid, with a large smile on his face, was leading seventeen little First Years to the front. The small children walked after him, huddling together as their eyes took in the sights before them. She could see a sparkle in their eyes she remembered having when they all stepped into the Castle for the first time.
I miss seeing the magic. She swallowed the painful notion.
He came to a stop right in front of the steps. The seventeen little First Years stopped right behind him, bumping into each other because very few were paying attention. Dumbledore finally rose from his seat as they eagerly bounced from one foot to the other, nervous hangs bunching at their robes and wands.
"Welcome, everyone! I am very pleased to see so many bright and young faces as we start this new year! Before we start this sorting, I think a round of applause is in order for our brave soldiers who fought mercilessly in this past War." On his command, the hall erupted into a clamor of clapping and cheering, several names being dropped for explicit praise. "I would also like a moment of silence for those who gave their life for the better of the world." For the better of the world? She bit back the comment as hands clasped together as heads bowed slightly, silence immediately blanketing the Hall. Everyone, regardless their part in the War, gave respect to those who didn't make it. A few tears were shed at the reminder of some not being here. "Now, let the sorting commence!"
-
Professor Sprout read off the list of First Years. Four went to Gryffindor, three to Slytherin, six to Ravenclaw, and another four to Hufflepuff. The young students eagerly took their place in the sections dedicated to them. Professor Vector took over for the Second Years. There were a few switches- three Hufflepuffs went to Gryffindor, one Ravenclaw was renamed Slytherin. Sinistra had the Third Years. Everyone stayed in their original houses. Hermione could see the relief on their faces. Trelawney read the Fourth Years- everyone except for the preexisting Slytherins moved, but even then, there was evidence of a debate for their sorting. McGonagall listed the Fifth Years with minimal change. Lupin (who had surprisingly come back to teach) took the Sixth Years. Flitwick read the Seventh Years. He stood on a stool himself to help ease tension, providing a good chuckle to all.
It hurt the residents of the hall as they heard names get skipped over. It was a possibility that the student had merely opted on home-schooling, but the ever-growing list of names on the plaque wall and the diminishing list of unidentified bodies growing shorter gave them their answer. Flitwick decided to let himself be the amusement to lessen everyone's pain. Most Seventh Years stayed the same, like Ginny in Gryffindor and Luna in Ravenclaw. A few did move around. Hermione sort of ignored their sorting (except for her two friends). Her mind was elsewhere with her own, debating where she would end up. She hoped it would be Gryffindor.
Dumbledore announced the call for the one-time Eighth Years. They all awkwardly stood and slowly grouped together by the stairs. All of their chairs disappeared, like with the other years, and were replaced with a section of table to sit at when sorted. Hermione made the decision to stand by Harry and Ron near the front. They gave her little side hugs and smiled at seeing her again as Snape walked down from the table. It was clear that he would call students up for sorting. Unlike the others, he didn't hold a scroll to read from, he had their roster order memorized. He took a moment to make edits to the list, noting who was here and who was dead.
They stood in awkward silence as he observed everyone. He saw the dead, dull eyes showing a lifetime of trauma. A memory flickered through his mind of their first year. Seven years ago, they were buzzing with excitement at attending this wonderful magical school. A lifetime ago, he was the same. He even counted down the seconds until his own sorting, but now... well, a lifetime of wars changes a person.
"Hannah Abbott." The blonde smiled and waved slightly at the group as she walked up to the stool. It shouted 'Gryffindor' after a moment. She quickly hugged her friends before padding over to her new table.
"Terry Boot." The brown-haired wizard found himself sorted back into Hufflepuff.
"Lavender Brown."
"That's going to be Lavender Weasley soon." She smirked, correcting the professor. He stayed silent as he stared at her, the atmosphere growing thick with awkwardness. A few snickers could be heard from her brass statement, earning a glare from the blonde. She promptly sat on the stool, puffing her chest slightly. To no surprise, she was sorted back into Gryffindor. The witch blew Ron a kiss on her walk to the table. He gagged once her back was turned, punching Harry in the arm after hearing a comment about the two getting together.
They kept on sorting. Michael Corner took Ravenclaw with Frederick Dougan and Riley Easton in Hufflepuff. Then came the witch.
"Hermione Granger." Blood rushed through her ears as Snape called her name. He'd said it thousands of times before in class or in the halls, but that was never for something as significant as this. Maybe that's why she felt like she was going to vomit. Eyes on her feet, she slowly walked on up to the stool, legs shaking, heart pounding, nerves on edge. She sat down on the old wood with her hands gripping the sides. The familiar weight of the sorting hat fell upon her head and its unforgettable voice echoed in her mind.
My, what changes you've made...
Just sort me.
It isn't so simple. You've grown in many ways since the first time we've met.
Yeah yeah, I went through a bloody War. Just tell everyone I'm a Gryffindor and we can move on.
Gryffindor? I laugh at your words. You are no Gryffindor, little witch.
Fine. Ravenclaw, then.
You are not a Ravenclaw either, little one.
Just hurry up and tell me what I am. People are starting to stare.
If you wish.
The hat took a pause, almost as if taking a deep breath, before shouting, "SLYTHERIN!"
-
The following seconds felt like an eternity as everyone processed what they heard. Hermione herself was mulling over its decision, trying to find if there's any possible way for Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or hell even Hufflepuff, to sound like Slytherin. There's no way this is what it picked, right? Slytherin? Her? The hat was quickly taken from her head before she could ask it anymore questions. She forced herself to rise. There was a small clap from the Head Table as she took step after step to her new table. Many others joined in out of respect, but it ended up creating an awkward applause that felt like pity more than anything.
Her eyes darted from person to person. First it was McGonagall, who held a proud yet conflicted smile, then Harry and Ron who stood there with mouths agape. Ginny and Luna gave longing looks from their tables. Finally, she looked at Snape. The sorting confused even him. Something flickered over his face, but before she could identify it, he swallowed it and moved on to the next name, shielding his previous expression.
"Daphne Greengrass."
"SLYTHERIN!"
"Anthony Goldstein."
"RAVENCLAW!"
Hermione tuned out the names being called. She focused all of her energy on the hat itself, making it seem as though she was paying attention when in reality, she was far from it. Her head spun as she replayed his choice over and over again, hoping, praying that everyone misheard. Every fiber of her being sat on edge. A few names she recognized joined her at the table- Daphne Greengrass, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, and Pansy Parkinson. The four of them sat in front of the brunette, casting wayward glances. It seemed that they were thinking the same thing too.
"Harry Potter." She watched as he took a seat on the stool. Determination resided on his face. Don't do anything stupid, Harry. She pleaded in hopes that he could hear her.
Ahh, I remember you, Boy.
Good. Then you'll remember the other option.
Are you sure? You've made quite a legacy for yourself in Gryffindor.
I want Slytherin. I need to be with Mia.
What Hufflepuff sentiment.
Bugger off and make me a snake.
I still think you would've done well here from the start.
"SLYTHERIN!"
Thank you...
Don't make decisions you'll regret, boy.
I promise I won't.
Silence spread throughout the hall, unlike Hermione's announcement. No one, not even the staff that always applauded, raised a hand. So Harry, the cheeky bastard, clapped for himself as he skipped to the table and plopped himself down next to his friend. He looked over at Snape with a large, toothy grin, and waved. The wizard, slightly appalled, glared at him. He turned to face McGonagall with a look of 'Did that just happen?' on his face. She merely shrugged and smiled, a look that said, 'He's your problem now.'
"Sophie Roper."
"You okay, Mia?" Harry whispered, leaning closer to the girl. She nodded slightly, not trusting her voice. Their attention was turned back to sorting as they watched the rest of their classmates repeat the tradition. Two people later left them with Ron, who sported a nervous look.
"Ronald Weasley."
I better not fucking get this one too. Snape inwardly grumbled as he stared at the redhead. I bet Minerva is having a fucking field-day, the wench.
Ron sat down on the stool, his eyes gazing over the Hall.
Put me in Slytherin. Put me in Slytherin. Put me in Slytherin.
Why? Weasleys go to Gryffindor, my boy.
I need to be with Mia and Harry. I don't want to be a snake, but they are, so I'll do it.
Sounds like loyalty. What about Hufflepuff?
No sodding way. Slytherin, or I'm burning you.
I'm an immortal, magical hat. You can't burn me.
Just make me a Slytherin. It's one year of the Snakes.
So be it...
"SLYTHERIN!"
Another bout of silence plagued the hall.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? THIS HAS TO BE A FUCKING JOKE, RIGHT? The Potions Professor, angry and alarmed, turned his focus once again to McGonagall. She snickered from behind her wine glass, placing her attention elsewhere.
Merlin, I hope this was the right decision. Ron thought to himself as he walked over to his friends, sitting across from them. The entirety of Slytherin looked pointedly at the editions, unabashedly gawking. The twins are never going to let me hear the end of this. He internally groaned, wishing he could bash his head against something.
The remaining student, Blaise Zabini, went back to his House of the Snakes. He awkwardly smiled at the three before looking at his friends.
"Now that the sorting is over, you are free to sit amongst your friends at your table. In the spirit of house unity, students may sit at any table they wish, but for special occasions such as tonight, I ask that you all sit at your house table." Chatter broke out at the prospect of being able to sit anywhere they wanted to. Inter-house friendships were uncommon due to the inability to chat during meals, some of the only times they could socialize. Harry and Ron in particular seemed excited to sit with their former House.
"Thank Merlin we can still sit at the Gryffindor table."
"Yeah. I'm already starting to get sick of this tie."
"And the crest."
"And the hood."
The two mumbled back and forth, complaining about aspects of their new attire while those around them shifted places. The other Eighth year Slytherins remained seated together, seemingly ignoring the three new arrivals.
"Now, I have several announcements. I would first like to list each Professor and what they teach. I am aware that many of you already know our staff, but we have several new and returning members I'd like to acknowledge. There are also new classes this year that they will be teaching." Dumbledore walked over to his podium, turning his body to face the left side of the table.
He acknowledged each Professor, one by one as he went down the table. Some needed no explanation, others required a bit of information.
Alyce Whitman was their new maths Professor. Apparently traditional Muggle Studies were being integrated due to the growing concern of a lack of education. The theory is that first years will take an introduction to maths. Second Years have a harder maths class. Third Years take Pre-Algebra with Fourth in Algebra I and Fifth in Algebra II. Sixth Years will take Geometry. Seventh Years have the option of Calculus, Trigonometry, or Statistical Analysis. Students who show promise in maths can be bumped up to a higher class despite their year.
Since most students have a very basic understanding, Dumbledore explained that everyone would take a basic maths test to have a baseline understanding of what maths class they should be placed in.
The same went for the English classes. Most of the Professors had grown tired of seeing the same mistakes in essays over and over again, so now there's any English class that every year must take. They will be catered to the ease of the year, but students can jump ahead or go behind as with maths. Their new English teacher was a woman named Samantha Perr.
Rila Parson had been dubbed their official French teacher. All students wishing to take the class would take a fluency test before being placed in an appropriate level. The same went for the German classes, taught by Heidi Wagner.
Muggle Studies was taken over by a Muggleborn witch named Emma Conner. Her counterpart, Megan Foster, was introduced as the new FACS Professor. Most of the staff agreed that it was time the students had a class that showed them how to properly take care of themselves. It was required for years 1-4, then after that, things were optional. Alongside learning to be functional human beings, students years 1-3 needed to take Physical Education, or PE, to learn healthy habits. Most groaned and balked at that idea, the thought of running laps sounding torturous. Any additional PE classes were optional, but available per request.
The final class new to the school was Wizarding History, not to be confused with History of Magic. Emerick Fischer would teach the students the History of the Wizarding World, such as past Ministers, how the Ministry works, the different branches, etc. Only four years were required, and it didn't matter which four.
All of this, of course, had leeway for the upper years that couldn't abide properly to the rules. They were to complete as many courses as they could within the time they had left.
Most assumed that the seemingly Muggle (or outright Muggle) classes were attempts to further integrate the two worlds to prevent the past from repeating itself.
"I know most of you are confused as to how scheduling your timetables will work this year. In each of your Dorms, there will be a piece of paper asking which classes you'd like. Several are already marked as required, but there is room to choose an easier or harder class. The extra curriculars are available at request. There will be a box in each common room for the papers. Any students residing in private dormitories may either put it in the box or give it to their Head of House directly. All Heads of Houses will be in their offices for the night to answer questions. Classes will officially start the 10th."
Whispers of excitement spread across the tables. It seemed the students liked the idea of having more freedom over their schedules and getting a few extra days to mentally prepare for the start of term.
Dumbledore then went into his usual spiel about the houses and unity, Quidditch, the point system and house cup, the Dark Forest, respecting the Castle, Prefects and Head Boy/Girl, etc. Hermione droned out during his speech. It was only when his final words of "Let the Feast Begin!" brought her back to the real world.
Nearly everyone stared in amazement at the beautiful bounty in the middle of the table. Students immediately began digging in and scooping food onto their plates before shoveling it into their months. Even Ron and Harry, who were still slightly appalled at the notion of being a Slytherin, piled their plates high.
"Aren't you going to eat, Mia?" Ron asked through a mouthful of chicken.
"Don't talk while you're eating, Ron." Hermione rolled her eyes at his mannerisms. "But to answer your question, no. I ate some snacks on the train, and I guess it filled me up."
He frowned a bit at her response, but he decided to drop the subject and instead conversed with Harry. The rest of the dinner went by relatively quickly, which she was thankful for. After an hour or so, the tables were cleared of any evidence of food, much to the displeasure of a certain redhead who decided to eat his body weight in turkey legs.
"Prefects will lead any new students to the office of their Head of House, then to their common room and dormitories." Dumbledore announced as students adjusted their now-tight robes. At his command, four individuals stood up to begin their tasks.
"Gryffindors, this way."
"Hufflepuffs, follow me!"
"Ravenclaws, eyes over here."
"Slytherins, follow."
The simultaneous voices of the four rang through the hall as new and transferred students scrambled to follow their Prefect, not wanting to get lost.
"All 8th years, please remain to be escorted to your dormitories. Everyone else, you are to be in your dorms by midnight. The forms should be completed by then. You are dismissed." With a wave of his hand, the remaining students left the hall in their little groups, chatting about the past few months or gossiping about the sorting. The Professors left too, including Dumbledore. Only the four Heads of Houses remained in the Great Hall with the private-housing students.
"I will take all Eighth Years housed in the West Wing." McGonagall said, looking over the lot. "And Mrs. Potter, it seems." A special plan had been worked out for Ginny, since she and Harry were married. It was incredibly rare for students to marry one-another during school, so an exception was made. Ginny and Harry could share the little flat-like dormitory. The same went for Luna and Neville. And Astoria Greengrass was to live with Pansy and Daphne for some reason unbeknownst to most of them there.
"I'll take those in the East." Sprout sweetly smiled, gesturing for them to come to her.
"Anyone in the North wing, or those residing in a floor above the fifth." Flitwick nodded at the Ravenclaws. It seemed loyalty to lie in the general vicinity of their House was still strong.
"And I will take anyone in the Dungeons." She didn't have to look to know it was Snape speaking from his position at the side.
The students broke off into their respective groups:
Harry, Ginny, Ron, Lavender, Padma, and Parvati bunched around McGonagall, despite not all being in her house anymore (or ever). Hannah, Terry, Frederick, Riley, Sophie, and Percival gathered around Sprout. Luna, Neville, Anthony, Heather, Michael, and Harvey flocked next to Flitwick. That left Draco, Daphne, Astoria, Pansy, Theodore, Blaise, and to most everyone's surprise, Hermione.
"This way." Snape said, walking towards the staff entrance door. She flashed her friends a soft smile before following after her group.
-
Hermione had to slow her pace slightly as she followed after the true Slytherins. They all had long legs which let them walk faster than average, but after years of always trying to be ahead, she could walk faster than anyone in the Castle. Embarrassed, and unsure of where she was going, she forced herself to walk slower to keep with the Professor's pace as they delved further into the Dungeons. Down the stairs and through winding corridors, they found themselves in what felt like a new world entirely.
"Miss Greengrass, Miss Parkinson, and Miss Greengrass." He called as came to a halt next to a portrait of a luscious garden with a woman sitting on a bench. "You may decide your password with her. Your belongings are already inside." The three witches nodded in understanding, turning to face the portrait. The group continued on down the hall. About ten meters from the first portrait, there were two knights with crossed swords.
"Same as them. Make a password. Things are inside." Theodore and Blaise stayed behind this time.
Across the hall, five meters out this time, the three found themselves at a blank wall. There was a singular discolored brick about eye-level. Snape looked at Draco pointedly. The boy experimentally tapped the tip of his wand to the brick. It lit up, signaling that it was the right 'password'. The remaining set of eyes focused their attention on Hermione. She flinched under his scrutiny, turning her gaze onto the floor. She saw him pivot and walk off in the direction of her dorm. She followed after. He continued on down the hall, then down a half-flight of stairs before finally stopping at a portrait on their left. It showed hundreds of books piled high in a library- a desk in the far back. An individual seemed to be sitting there. It looked more like a speck of paint than anything.
"Shakespeare." The Professor gently rapped his knuckles against the frame, gathering the attention of the poet. He begrudgingly walked over to the front of the portrait. "Password, belongings." She nodded her understanding. She knew he wasn't being short because he was irritated but because she didn't need information spoon-fed to her like some others. She appreciated it in an odd way.
Snape stood there for a moment longer than he should've. He looked over the girl, noticing how... lost... she seemed. This was definitely not the same witch he'd seen get sorted years ago.
No, this was an empty shell of the girl Hermione used to be.
How did you wind up here, Granger? "I trust you know where my office is?" She nodded once more. "Good." With that, he turned on his heel and left her at her new rooms.
"Ophelia." He heard her say to the portrait. She's not even excited in the slightest that Shakespeare of all people is her portrait keeper? And why Ophelia? Of all his characters, why her? He shook the thoughts from his head as he walked to his office for the night.
Hermione gingerly opened the full-length portrait door, stepping inside of the room. It shut behind her with a soft 'click'.
There's no going back now.