The Journey Never Ends

Hermione’s New Job

Hermione knelt on the rough wooden floor in her office, pawing through the piles of spell books on the bookshelves. The light faded fast these days, so only the light of her magic fire lit the room, casting an eerie shadow over the dusty volumes. It was late, and Hermione didn’t want to disturb the other students by lighting her lamps.

At twenty-five, Hermione was a mature woman. Her skin was perfectly pale and unlined, but yet the knowledge she held inside her was of value to even the oldest witches and wizards. Only her eyes began to show the wisdom she had. She was attractive to men, but she declined their company, she loved children, and yet wanted none of her own and, unbelievable though it was, the loneliness was killing her.

In the office, she searched the shelves for a book she had read fewer times than the others. Hermione had recently become a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, destined to share her boundless knowledge with many more youngsters who walked through those famous doors. She taught Arithmancy, a subject she made a whole lot more enjoyable for the students. Teaching however, didn’t stop her craving more information. Books settled her, and helped pass the quiet hours when the rest of Hogwarts had long retired to bed.

A quiet knock on the door made her jump, the books in her arms cascading over the floor. Standing quickly, wondering what someone wanted at this late hour, she opened the door to see the comforting face of Albus Dumbledore.

“Professor Granger, may I come in?” Dumbledore asked the old twinkle visible in his eyes. “I hope I am not disturbing you,” he added, as he noticed the jumble of books over the floor.

I wish he’d stop calling me that!

“Oh,” Hermione said, following his gaze, “no, I was just…”

“I know,” Dumbledore said, patting her arm, “perhaps we should talk in my office instead?”

Hermione nodded, relieved that Dumbledore could read her so well. She hated mess, and wouldn’t entertain people in her office unless it was spotless. But, there was more to it than that, and Dumbledore knew she could do with escaping the memories the room held.

“Make your way up there. I won’t be a moment, but Filch requested my presence in the dungeons. Peeves making a nuisance of himself I dare say… anyway, the password is ‘cherry drop’.”

Hermione smiled at Dumbledore’s choice of password, and left him standing at the entrance to her office.

Dumbledore waited until Hermione had rounded the corner at the end of the corridor before sighing and turning back to her office. It was simply decorated, most of the wall space being taken up by shelving. It could have easily have been a small library. There was a soft rug by the fire, where a young kitten was curled up, reminding Dumbledore of Crookshanks, Hermione’s pet while she was at school. A pile of parchment covered in red ink littered the desk- Hermione’s pupils soon learnt she was a harsh marker. In fact, there was no doubt about whose the room was.

Dumbledore was about to turn to leave, when he noticed a flash of colour amongst the dull books. Carefully stepping through the books on the floor, he reached up to the top shelf removing what seemed to be a very thick book. Sitting down on the chair behind her desk, he brushed the layer of dust from the cover and realised what the book was. A photograph album.

With only a small twinge of guilt at invading Hermione’s privacy he opened the book to see Harry and Hermione laughing and smiling, at their graduation from Hogwarts. Flipping through Dumbledore saw more of the same, Harry and Ron, Hermione drunk at Harry’s twenty-first birthday party, Ron awkwardly holding his baby nephew, Harry and Hermione hugging…

Turning to the back page Dumbledore’s calm exterior broke as he saw Harry stood alone, tears rolling down his cheeks as he smiled and waved goodbye. Hermione had obviously hidden this album from herself, afraid in case she would ever see these pictures again.

The young kitten looked up indignantly, fixing Dumbledore with a stare as if to say he was doing something terrible.

“I know, I know,” Dumbledore sighed, “I shouldn’t be looking. But it’s an old man’s way of trying to share her pain. If only I could ease it.”

Since the defeat of Voldemort in the trio’s last year at Hogwarts, their lives had been intertwined, and Harry and Hermione had started dating. Their relationship blossomed until Hermione turned twenty-three, when Harry had left and never returned. He’d said that he was taking a break. The events of their last year had left him with many terrible memories, and a press following that was impossible to escape. Hermione was sad to see him go, but understood why he needed to get away, and expected him back after six months. She’d sent him owls everyday, but he never replied, and she began to worry. The Ministry had been hunting for Harry for years now, with no luck. It was almost as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth. There was no evidence to suggest that he had died, but Hermione couldn’t help but feel that someone must have killed him. Either that or he had committed suicide, unable to cope with his memories.

Cruelly, it seemed, Hermione had realised that she was pregnant a few days after Harry’s departure. She was unable to tell him the news that could have restored his confidence and will to live. Hermione had never lost this feeling of guilt. However, in a tragic coincidence, a few weeks into the pregnancy, Hermione had suffered a miscarriage, losing the one thing that could have reminded her of Harry. Even in the wizarding world there were some things that couldn’t be helped, a miscarriage being one of them. This was the reason for Hermione’s lack of desire for male company, or for her own child. She sought solace at Hogwarts, where she fulfilled herself by passing on her knowledge to other children.

At the moment, she was having even more trouble coping. Ron was employed in the Ministry, now that the Order was no longer necessary, and had been sent over to , to the wizarding school Durmstrang. Now that Voldemort was dead, the Ministry thought it was important to improve international relations. Dumbledore chuckled to himself. Perhaps that would have saved us some problems if they’d done it earlier! They were finally excepting that they’d made some huge mistakes in the last few years, and it was about time they started trying to make up for it. Really, Hermione could use all the company she could get, she seen Ron off graciously, but Dumbledore could tell how upset she was that he’d left her alone.

Realising that he had been sat in Hermione’s office for a little too long, Dumbledore closed the book, but instead of placing it back among the other books he reached inside his robes for his wand. With a murmur, the book vanished- Dumbledore had a feeling that this album was one Hermione would need soon, so he took the liberty of looking after it for her.

Dumbledore made sure he’d regained his calm before exiting, leaving Hermione’s office exactly as it had been before, minus the photograph album. He quietly closed the door and started the walk towards his office. The little cat stared after him for a few moments, before lying back down to resume a dreamless sleep.

Even in death Voldemort causes pain, Dumbledore thought, and even I don’t know how to prevent it.