DISCLAIMER: I do not, nor have I ever or will I ever own any
of these characters. The plot is mine though. The rest is storyteller
extraordinaire Madame J.K. Rowling’s creations.
Dark, dank, wet. Leaves flying, feet pounding. Hermione's hair was
stuck in her face as she ran.
“Oh Gods, where is he? Where is Harry and Ron?” she though
frantically. Her feet pounding on the dirt was drowned out by the sound
of her heart in her ears. She ducked behind a tree, hoping to get away.
"You cannot escape me, Mudblood. You are trapped."
Hermione felt the fear claw at her throat as she took off again through the
forest. Where could she hide? She tore through the Forbidden Forest, branches clawing at her.
Suddenly, she pulled sideways. Harry was next to her. He looked at
her, pressing his finger to her lips. He had pulled her under the Invisiblity
Cloak. They quietly moved forward. Hermione turned to look at Harry, her face
twisted into a smile. It was time.
“Now Harry, it is time to meet my Lord,” she said. She flung her
The cloak violently flew off and the Death Eaters were around them. Harry
looked heart-brokenly at Hermione.
"There will be no duel this time, Potter. Avada Kevada.”
Hermione felt time slow down as the curse flew out at Harry, hit him square in
the chest, and vanish, just like Harry’s life. Harry fell to the ground, his
once bright fire-like emerald eyes now cold jewels glassed over in death.
Hermione felt a twinge in her heart, but ignored it.
“Bag Potter and bring him. Escort Granger. We need to welcome our
new Death Eater,” Voldemort commanded, eyes blazing triumphly. Nagini hissed in
success and slithered after its master. Hermione felt happiness coursing
through her. The Dark Lord was pleased with her! She followed the Death Eaters.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of red. Ron.
She hurried to Voldemort.
“My Lord, we have a visitor.” She indicated to the tree where
Ron hid. Voldemort looked and saw Ron’s hair. He pointed his wand.
“Petrificus Totalus,” he said. Ron, with wide eyes, fell over.
“Retrieve him,” he said to the Death Eater nearest to him.
Avery went over and dragged Ron into the circle. Voldemort undid the spell and
Ron sat staring, his eyes full of hatred for Hermione and the Dark Lord.
“Well, well, well. Weasley. You have no hope. Potter, the
so-called “Boy Who Lived” is no more. You have a choice. You seem like a lad
with strength and talent. Join as a Death Eater,” said Voldemort. Ron spat at
the Dark Lord’s feet.
“Not if I die a hundred times.” Voldemort smiled, a twisted
“Well, if I could let you I would. Crucio.” Voldemort pointed
his wand at Ron. Hermione felt a large twinge that turned into full-blown
regret as the torture continued, realizing what she got herself and her friends
into. Ron’s cries reached her ears.
“What have I done?” she asked herself as she noticed Harry
laying on the ground, his eyes still open in death. Voldemort finished the
torture and Ron lay there, panting. Hermione approached him.
“Are you satisfied, Hermione? Now that you killed Harry? How
could you, Hermione? You were a Gryffindor,” he said. Hermione shook her head.
“No, it wasn’t-” she began. “I’m so sorry Ron.” Voldemort
“Mudblood, I want to dispose of the Weasley now. Stand aside.”
Voldemort sneered. “No? Do not question me! I will not stand for
insolence, especially from a Mudblood. Avada Kevada.” The curse flew out
towards Hermione. She braced herself for her fate and felt something solid and
soft hit her. Her heart stopped. It was Ron. He slid to the ground, dead. She
knelt over him, cradling his body.
“What have I done?” she sobbed. “What have I done? What have I
done? How could I? I was a Gryffindor. I was a Gryffindor…..”
Hermione’s eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright, tears
streaming down her cheeks. She looked around. She was in her bed in Gryffindor
Tower. Her roommates were sleeping. It was a dream, a horrible dream. She
recalled the conversation she, Ron, and Harry had before bed as she tossed the
covers off and scrambled for her dressing robe. It was the first couple of
weeks of their fourth year and they were sitting around. Harry had just read
them a letter from Sirius. They had discussed the year before, when they had
discovered Peter Pettigrew was alive. Ron had made the comment, “It’s
surprising to me, that Pettigrew would sell your mum and dad out, Harry. He was
As Hermione threw on her robe, all she could think about
was seeing if Ron and Harry were all right. She ran to the door, hurried down
to the common room and up the other side to the boys’ room. All she could see
was the tears in her eyes and Ron and Harry’s faces as they died, because of her.
She could hear Ron’s words echoing. She sobbed as she banged on the door. It
creaked open and Seamus’ red hair appeared.
“Hermione?” he croaked, half-asleep.
“I-I need to s-s-see H-H-Harry and R-Ron!” she sucked in massive
amounts of air to keep from sobbing. Seamus held the door open and she came in.
Harry was fumbling for his glasses and Ron was still snoring away. She rushed
to Harry first. She threw herself at him. Harry looked taken aback.
“I would never sell you out!” she sobbed. “Oh Harry! I’m
sorry!” Harry rubbed her back. He looked over at Ron, still asleep, not aware
one of his best friends was in such pain.
“Ron!” he said. The redhead didn’t budge. Harry tried
again. “RON!” Still no response. Harry chucked a pillow at Ron. He sat up and
“What”? he mumbled. Harry pointed at the sobbing Hermione.
Ron’s eyes widened and he threw the covers off and hurried to Harry’s bed.
“I was a Death Eater...you and Ron.....dead….all my
fault!” shuddered Hermione. She looked up at her best friends. She saw Ron and
the tears came even more.
“Ron! You’re all right! You aren’t dead. I’m so sorry!”
she sobbed. Ron hugged her, looking at Harry over her head.
“What brought this on, Hermione?” asked Harry. Hermione
looked at her best friends.
“I think it was our conversation last night. I heard Ron
tell me I was a Gryffindor and I repeated it in my dream,” said Hermione.
"I was worried about the comment about Peter."
“You are a Gryffindor, ‘Moine. You are brave and smart.
We don’t know why Peter was placed in Gryffindor, but there must have been
something there we couldn’t see. Dumbledore told me it’s not our abilities that
make us who we are, it’s our choices. Peter chose to serve Voldemort.” Ron
cringed at Harry’s usage of the Dark Lord’s name.
“Thanks, Harry. You two are the best,” said Hermione,
quickly hugging her friends. She bid them good night and exited the room with a