Disclaimer: Now this is a story all about how,
got flipped turned upside down,
And I'd like
to take a minute just to say right now,
I do not
own Harry Potter, no way, no how. ^_~
Author's Notes: Well, this is my very first story on the Quill! *Excited* Although this baby's already up on ff.net, I've now got an
amazing SQ beta (We love you NZ!), so hopefully this version will be even
better! Enjoy, and for the love of Ron Weasley and all else that is red-haired,
Bury the Hatchet
The echoing sound of clicking heels cut through a
deathly silence as Professor Hermione Granger, Arithmancy
teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, walked briskly through
the dark, deserted halls. A waning moon shone through the castle windows,
illuminating her face and chestnut hair, which was pulled into a tight bun. She
turned a corner into yet another empty hall. Hermione was not surprised; the
students would not arrive at Hogwarts until tomorrow, and the only member of
the staff likely to be up at this ungodly hour was Argus Filch, the irritable
caretaker, and his stealthy cat Mrs Norris. Professor
Granger smiled ruefully - she knew that most students prayed that Mrs Norris kicked the bucket soon. The meddling feline had
lived longer than anyone had expected, and continued to enjoy getting students
in trouble just as much as her master, despite her rapidly declining health.
Hermione passed the portrait of a wizard with a
high collar, who would have looked very important and dignified if it hadn't
been for the fact that he was snoring loudly. She was nearly there. Turning one
last corner, she entered into the trophy room.
Professor Granger walked slowly now to her
destination - the place she had found herself coming to on many other sleepless
nights, despite the fact that she desperately warned herself it was stupid. On
this particular night, she had lain awake for hours before she found herself
getting dressed and heading to the trophy room. Perhaps she couldn't sleep
because of the high amount of stress the entire staff had been under for the
past week. Getting Hogwarts ready for the hundreds of students that would be
arriving by Hogwarts Express tomorrow was no easy feat. It didn't help matters
much that the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, seemed to
be aging more rapidly than ever. And while every last teacher respected him
greatly and was rather fond of the old man, they had to admit that he was
getting old. Hermione sighed. She never thought she'd see the day when she
thought of Albus Dumbledore as old.
Hermione finally stopped in front of a large
trophy, sitting on a high shelf in its place of glory. She stared at its
polished, shiny gold surface, her eyes slowly traveling down to the bottom of
the trophy, where three names were engraved.
Hermione Granger. Yes, that was her. Or it
had been her. Professor Granger slowly ran her fingers over her own
name. The Hermione Granger whom this trophy had been awarded to was quite a
different person from the accomplished professor who stood before it now. It
was true; in her own days at Hogwarts she had been a bit of a
know-it-all, a brilliant student. That part of her hadn't changed much.
But she'd also been the courageous Muggle-born who had braved a deadly series of challenges to
find the Sorcerer's Stone in her first year at Hogwarts. She'd been the
semi-mischievous youth who brewed a Polyjuice Potion secretly
in the girl's toilets on a quest to find the Heir of Slytherin.
She had been the fiery girl who'd slapped Draco Malfoy once in a fit of rage.
She had possessed a kind of courage that grown
wizards and witches could not muster to help defeat the greatest Dark wizard of
all time in her final year. Hermione closed her eyes and flinched as Voldemort's dying shriek echoed through her mind once
again. But it wasn't the sound, or even the image of the Dark Lord dying
that, even now, frequently woke her in the middle of the night. It was rather
the memory of the smell…the sickening, burning smell that had risen from
Voldemort's still sizzling body once he had been
killed. She would never forget that smell, as long as she lived.
Finally she opened her eyes, shaking ever so
slightly. Professor Granger ran her fingers, almost lovingly, over the second
name. Ronald Weasley. She sighed softly as she tried to fathom where Ron
was now. She hadn't seen him since that memorable graduation…the week
after…Hermione ran her fingers over the last name…the week after they and Harry
Potter had finally killed the Dark Lord, finally getting revenge for the
untimely death of Harry's parents.
Hermione put a finger to her temple as
seven-year-old memories came flooding back to her as if they had happened
yesterday…soft, evil cackling echoing throughout the dungeons as Voldemort
stepped out of the shadows…the Dark Lord, pointing his wand wildly at Harry and
screaming the words that would kill him…Severus Snape, doing the last thing any
of them had expected and flinging himself in front of Harry at the last second.
The old potions master had sacrificed himself so that his old enemy's son
wouldn't have had to die.
Snape's sacrifice had
meant that Harry once again had power and protection against Voldemort…then all
three of them had raised their wands…Hermione had blinked back tears, and said
along with her two best friends in a shaking voice…
"Avada Kedavra," Professor Granger whispered out loud to
the silent room. The three of them performing the fatal spell had done what one
could not - killed the unkillable. Hermione's eyes
traveled down the trophy, and she stared at the words engraved beneath her,
Ron, and Harry's name.
For Bravery Beyond
And Destroying the Darkness That
Plagued the World
Hermione sighed again as she glanced at the
trophy beside that. On it was engraved the name Severus Snape, with the
same caption as the latter award.
Professor Granger leaned against the wall,
closing her eyes again. Voldemort had been destroyed the week before she, Ron,
and Harry graduated from Hogwarts. The day Hermione had been looking forward to
since she had begun her first year was bittersweet. The three companions who
had defeated Voldemort had basked in glory and admiration as they graduated,
while the rest of the wizarding world rejoiced. News had spread fast that the
Dark Lord had been destroyed by the Boy who Lived.
Hermione hadn't wanted glory. That night, she
couldn't stop thinking that she had become a killer at the tender age of
seventeen. Hermione had felt empty and emotionless during what should have been
the greatest day of her life. The day she had planned to tell Ron what she
Professor Granger shook her head and stood up
straight, banishing the haunting memories from her mind and scolding herself
for being so silly and sentimental. It really isn't healthy for me to come
down here at night and foolishly relive the past, she told herself sharply.
Ron and Harry were gone - they had decided to study Defense Against
the Dark Arts abroad so that they could become Aurors.
After all, the fall of Lord Voldemort had not meant that all Dark wizards had
fallen. True, they had been dealt a vicious blow by the downfall of their
master, but there were those who would try to continue his Dark legacy.
Now both of her former best friends were famous Aurors. Professor Granger read about them frequently in the
Daily Prophet. They called them the
dream team, the dynamic duo. Dark Wizards beware of Potter and Weasley, the
great Aurors, Hermione thought bitterly.
She had not written to either of her friends
since all three had left Hogwarts. She had decided to leave her past - and them
- behind, and get on with her career. Within a year of graduation, Hermione had
returned to the castle to teach - even though there were many painful memories
haunting the stone corridors.
But that's all they were - memories. Professor
Granger had left them behind. She was content now - she had her work, and an
organized, sophisticated life. No nonsense about chasing Dark wizards around.
No mischievous red-head and trouble-making, scar-bearing boy to distract her
anymore. Let them run around the country hunting down dark wizards. She was
perfectly happy where she was.
What happened to you, Hermione Granger? said an annoying little voice in her head that sounded
suspiciously like Ron.
"I grew up," Professor Granger snapped
sharply, her voice bouncing off the trophy room walls. Taking one last glance
at the trophies, she spun on her heel and marched out of the room.