Chapter 1 The Retirement Party
The grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were still and quiet on the last day of August. It was almost as if the castle knew that in twenty-four hours it would be overrun with hormonally-charged teenagers preparing for another year of school and was resting up in anticipation. The lake was calm and the Forbidden Forest looked almost welcoming beneath the clear starry sky.
Inside, the castle was polished and ready to receive its students. For the last few weeks, the professors had been working tirelessly, preparing lesson plans and tidying their classrooms for what would undoubtedly be a frantic first week of school. All classroom lights had been extinguished for the night, except one.
The professor at the desk of the Transfiguration classroom was bent over a large book, reading intently. Unaware of the late hour, she was absentmindedly twirling a strand of her long, brown hair around her forefinger. Slowly, she stopped coiling her hair and stared off into space, remembering events long past.
Hermione Granger, 22 years old, hadn't changed much since she left Hogwarts as a student five years earlier. Tonight she was rereading the chapter in the transfiguration text about Animagi. She knew that her 7th year classes were keen to learn more about the rare ability that some witches and wizards have to transform into animals. She still remembered the first time she saw a human transform into an animal.
Has it really been 10 years since Sirius and the Shrieking Shack? God, we were young.
Hermione put her head down on her desk and closed her eyes tightly. Sometimes she questioned her decision to return to Hogwarts and all of its memories. When Professor McGonagall had offered her the job of Transfiguration Professor four years ago it seemed like a safe haven - returning home. It would be one more challenge she could throw herself into to keep her from dwelling on the past. She never imagined that periodically and unbidden her memories and emotions would overshadow her logic and intellect. Sometimes weeks went by without painful memories resurfacing. Other times she would be in the middle of a lecture and a question or mannerism of one of the students would remind her of her two best friends and she would stop and lose all train of thought, just as she had tonight.
"Hermione? What are you still doing here?"
Hermione picked her head up from her desk and smiled at her visitor. "I could ask you the same thing, Neville!"
"I was helping Professor Sprout in the greenhouses and saw the light was on in your classroom. I came to remind you about the Three Broomsticks," Neville replied, settling into a chair in front of her desk. "I, of course, knew you would be up here reading a book! Some things never change." Neville ducked as Hermione playfully threw a crumpled piece of parchment at him.
Of all the students that had graduated with Hermione, Neville had changed the most. He still had the same sweet, round face and was occasionally prone to clumsiness. But where once was a timid wizard quaking in his shoes under Professor Snape's leer, was now a confident man. Hermione thought back to their 5th year and the beginning of the DA as the turning point for Neville. When he returned to Hogwarts for their 6th year, he was a completely different person. Much to his surprise, and many of his teachers, he had received E's and O's on his O.W.L.s that he had taken at the end of his 5th year. Following in his parents' footsteps, he decided to focus his studies on pursuing a career as an Auror. Even though he had not received the highest mark in Potions, Professor Snape was persuaded by Dumbledore to allow Neville (and Harry) into his advanced Potions class. At the end of their 7th year, Harry and Neville both were happy to have survived Snape's class without being poisoned, as he had frequently threatened to test them with their own potions. But with encouragement from each other, and tutoring from Hermione, both had received good marks on their Potions N.E.W.T., much to Snape's displeasure.
Dumbledore, the summer after Neville left Hogwarts, supplied the final bit of irony. Snape became the professor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, which was changed to "Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts." Neville was offered, and accepted, the Potions Master job since the demand for Aurors had fallen after the complete defeat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
Neville appraised Hermione. "Is anything wrong? You seemed to be in a different world when I walked in."
"Oh, nothing," she dismissed, waving her hand. "Just the usual pre-term jitters. I keep asking myself, 'What have I forgotten?'"
"I wish I still had my Rememberall for you to use."
Hermione smiled faintly as she recalled their first year. Neville's Remembrall was responsible for Harry becoming the youngest Hogwarts seeker in a century.
As Hermione straightened the papers on her desk lost in thought about Harry, she heard Neville say something, sounding as if he was far away.
"Hmm? I'm sorry Neville, what did you say?"
"Harry. Have you heard from him?"
Hermione looked at him crossly. "You know very well that I haven't spoken to or heard from Harry in almost five years. He keeps in touch with Molly and Dumbledore, so I daresay you would know much more about his life than I."
Despite the fact that Harry hadn't been in contact with Hermione, her lack of knowledge about him was her own doing. When Molly had received her first owl from Harry a year after he left, Hermione had been devastated. The fact that he had sent Molly an owl before sending her one had upset her tremendously, though she didn't let on to anyone. At that time, she had still been waiting, expecting to hear from him. When days, then weeks went by without word from him, she knew that no letter would come. She didn't understand why then, and she didn't understand now.
It was an unwritten rule among Harry's friends that they would not talk about him or where he was to other people in the wizarding world. And, after a time, people stopped asking. In Hermione's mind, since she wasn't receiving letters, "other wizards" included her. She made it clear to Molly and the Weasleys that she didn't care or want to hear one word about Harry. So his name was never mentioned in Hermione's presence.
"I can't believe that you haven't been in touch with him all these years. He was your best friend, after all."
Hermione shot Neville her best McGonagall look, hoping it would deter him from pursuing this conversation further. "Neville, Harry has always known how to get in touch with me and has chosen not to. I don't know why, and frankly, after all these years I don't really care," she said icily.
"Don't you?" Neville replied leveling an equally direct stare at Hermione.
She stared back at him for a moment before getting up to replace her transfiguration textbook on her bookshelf. "So, who is meeting us at the Three Broomsticks?" she said with her back to Neville, hoping to change the subject.
She heard Neville sigh and received her wish. "Hagrid is probably already there, chatting up Madam Rosmerta. Ginny just got a huge shipment from Fred and George and will come after she adjusts the inventory and puts it away. Severus, being his usual friendly self, said if he didn't have anything better to do he would come. Madam Pomfrey, Flitwick, Sprout and the guest of honor, Madam Hooch, are all coming for sure," Neville replied.
"Sounds like a lively group," Hermione quipped. "What about Minerva?"
"Doubtful. The students arrive tomorrow and you know how she gets," Neville chuckled.
"Right. Well then, let's go. I can finish this up tonight when I get home."
"Take a night off, Hermione!" As Hermione gathered her things, Neville turned and muttered under his breath, "It's not like you haven't got the entire library memorized by now."
"What was that?" Hermione asked distractedly while making sure everything on her desk was in the proper place.
"I said 'We'd better leave now,'" he lied.
Business was brisk at the Three Broomsticks for a Sunday night. Hermione and Neville walked in and made their way to the back of the pub where Hagrid had commandeered a table. Madam Pomfrey, Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout and Madam Hooch were already there, sitting around the table talking animatedly. Professor Flitwick had charmed some miniature brooms to zoom around their table and spray multicolored sparks in their wake in honor of Madam Hooch's retirement. An errant broom would occasionally zoom down the bar causing all the customers to duck their heads to avoid being speared in the ear by a miniature Firebolt.
"'ello 'ermione, Neville," boomed Hagrid who, by the glassy look in his eyes, was on at least his fourth tankard of ale.
"Hi Hagrid! I see you started the party without us, and quite early it seems," Hermione chided as she leaned down to kiss Hagrid's scruffy cheek.
"Yeah, well, I wanted to get 'ere early enough to get a prime table, and Rosmerta there sat with me for a mo before the place filled up," Hagrid replied, a rosy tint appearing on the small amount of skin peeking out between his beard and eyes.
"Mmm-hmm," Hermione smiled and winked at Hagrid as she sat down across from him with her back to the door.
Hermione greeted the others at the table while Neville signaled to Rosmerta for two butterbeers. "I can't believe you're retiring! What in the world are you going to do with yourself, Madam Hooch?"
"Absolutely nothing and I can't wait!" she replied as she toasted Hermione with her gillywater. "Granted, I have loved teaching 30 years worth of Hogwarts students the finer points of flying and Quidditch, but it'll be nice to go to a Quidditch match and not have to referee it!"
"You probably won't last a month," Professor Flitwick squeaked. "You'll be back on your broom refereeing or teaching in the local under-10 Quidditch league quicker than you can say 'Quidditch World Cup.' Mark my words."
Madam Hooch smiled at the nods of agreement the others around the table offered. "You may be right, but I wouldn't take odds on it from a goblin if I were you."
"So, who is going to replace you?" Madam Pomfrey asked.
"Poppy, I don't know. I think Minerva hired someone but she wasn't forthcoming with the details. All she would say is it is a former well known Quidditch player."
"You don't think it's Viktor Krum, do you?" Neville asked mischievously. He grinned broadly at Hermione and gently elbowed her in the ribs. "He has been trying to get a job at Hogwarts for years now."
Hermione punched Neville in the arm as the others laughed. "I don't know why you won't let me and Viktor Krum go already! That is ancient history. We're just friends."
"Maybe to you," Neville said, rubbing his arm.
"God, you sound like Ron," Hermione responded automatically before she realized what she said. The table got quiet for a moment, before Hagrid, too drunk to notice the uncomfortable silence laughed loudly and said, "Ron always did think Krum was a surly git!"
Everyone at the table laughed thinking about Ron while at Hogwarts. He had become quite popular the final two years, due in large part to his Quidditch skills. He also, surprisingly, became a better student once out of the shadow of Harry's fame.
Hermione smiled as conversations resumed around her and faded to background noise. Thank goodness no one is offering me condolences or giving me that pitying look I know so well, Hermione thought. It has only taken five years.
She picked up the thread of conversation again and was laughing as Hagrid told a story of one of his more interesting Care of Magical Creatures classes when the atmosphere in the bar changed. Where once there had been lively conversation there was now mumbling, staring and pointing. Hagrid, who was facing the door stopped mid-sentence. His eyes got as big as saucers and he smiled bigger than Hermione had ever seen. And for a half-giant, that is saying something.
Hermione turned in her chair, still laughing, to see who had just walked in the door. A tall, handsome man with his hands casually in the pockets of his chinos was walking through the room. The crowd parted for him without his asking, as he forged a path directly to the table of teachers at the back. He walked up to their table, ducking an errant Firebolt with a somewhat tentative grin on his face. Everyone stopped what he or she were doing and had turned, quite obviously, to stare at the table in the back.
"Hello, Hermione."
For once in her life, Hermione was speechless. Her mouth, previously gaping open in surprise, shut. Then opened again as she tried to say something. Suddenly, her senses returned along with her anger. Her eyes blazed as she stared at the stranger standing before her.
"Hello, Harry."