Chapter 1 - Haunted Dreams
July 5 - 2:12am - The Granger Home
"Everyone thinks you're so smart, but you can't even protect your friends. You were taken out of the fight so easily." The voice wound its way into Hermione's mind. She whimpered in her sleep. She was back in the Department of Mysteries and her friends were counting on her to help them, but she couldn't. A beam of purple light shot towards a young woman just before her world went black. Hermione sat bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily. Her summer coverlet was twisted about her body and her normally riotous curls lay damp with sweat against her. She closed her eyes and focused on steadying her breathing and calming the nausea that always rose in her after her nightmares. 'They're getting worse.' It had been nearly three weeks since that night in the Department of Mysteries. The nightmares had started as soon as Madam Pomfrey had stopped giving her the dreamless sleep potion when she left the hospital wing roughly two weeks ago.
Untangling herself from the coverlet, she stood by the bed and stretched for a moment wincing even after three weeks of Madam Pomfrey's remedies. Dolohov's spell had been very powerful and she was still taking some potions to counter side effects and help her body recover more fully. She turned to her nightstand and deftly removed a small vial of purple liquid from a small wooden box. She sighed then downed it in one gulp. The taste was horrible, but she only had to take them for another week. She placed the empty vial back in the box before heading to the bathroom to take a quick shower. She knew she wouldn't be able to get any more sleep at the moment.
After the brief shower she returned to her room and her NEWT level transfiguration book. Immediately upon leaving platform 9 ¾ Hermione had talked her parents into stopping by Diagon Alley so that she could buy some books for summer reading and studying. Hermione smiled grimly at the memory as her parents had taken it as a good sign that their little girl was dealing well with the incident from the Department of Mysteries and her near death experience. Hermione had always found solace in her books and studying. She was not the top witch in her class at Hogwarts for nothing. What they didn't realize was that Hermione was determined to learn as much as she could. She never wanted to go into another situation like the Department of Mysteries unprepared. The DA experience had obviously helped her and her friends, but she also knew that she couldn't slack off or next time she or one of her friends might not make it. She hated that she had not been there to help her friends, having been taken out by Dolohov's curse relatively early on in the battle.
Crookshanks curled around her legs for a moment before jumping into her lap as she sat in her favorite reading chair in her spacious bedroom. 'Next time I'll be there to help Harry.' She whispered to her familiar as she absently stroked Crookshanks. The familiar just purred louder offering its comfort to her mistress. For her part, Hermione settled into serious studying reading through her text and practicing the wand movements for each spell with her hand as she memorized both them and the words. She desperately wished she could do magic so that she could really practice, but for now, this would have to do.
Hours later a soft knock interrupted her studies. "Hermione?"
"Yes, mum. Come in." Hermione answered. An older version of Hermione appeared at the door. She had the same cinnamon brown eyes and brown curls, though her hair was much shorter than her daughters.
"You're up awfully early, dear." Jane Granger eyed her daughter curiously. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes, Crookshanks woke me a little while ago, so I thought I'd read for a bit before getting dressed." Jane seemed to accept this excuse.
"Are you hungry?"
"A little, would you like some help with breakfast?" Hermione asked closing her Transfiguration text. She was almost finished with it anyway.
"Sure. Just come down when you're dressed. If you want, I have the morning off, and we could do some shopping, just us girls. What do you think?"
"Sounds like fun. I'll be right down," Hermione answered although she'd almost rather stay home. It was safer after all. 'What if a Death Eater saw her and her mother while they were at the mall? Well, Dumbledore did say that Order members would be watching the Granger home. And she'd be on the alert.' She argued with herself some more as she slowly pulled on some jeans and a purple tank top. She used some make-up to hide the purple circles under her eyes and added some gloss to her lips. Feeling presentable she want downstairs to help her mother with breakfast.
July 5 - 2:35am - Number 4 Privet Drive
It was a peaceful night on Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey. Unfortunately, for one poor soul in Number 4 Privet Drive, things were anything but peaceful. The teenage boy tossed and turned in his small bed (he'd finally outgrown it). Tangled in the sheets and covered in a cold sweat, he again relived those moments in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione lying deathly still on the ground, the brain wrapping itself around Ron as the others stared in horror, and Sirius falling through the veil, a look of total shock on his face, over and over again the images played tormenting the boy. Suddenly Harry sat bolt upright in bed. He raked a hand across his face and through his messy black hair. He was breathing heavily as if he'd been running up a long flight of stairs. His whole body shook and tears made their way down his checks. He pushed himself back against the headboard and drew his legs up to his chest wrapping his arms around them. He tried to gain control of the shaking and his ragged breath. He ruthlessly pushed his nightmare aside, focusing on clearing his mind completely. He almost laughed at the sudden realization that without his Occlumency, he had no doubt he would have lost his mind already. Although he still had problems completely clearing his mind, he had found that focusing on one thing could help clear all the rest away. Within moments, his breathing had calmed and he was no longer shaking.
It had only been two weeks since he had returned to Privet Drive after the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And three weeks since that fateful night in the Ministry of Magic where he had almost gotten his friends killed, and he had lost his godfather. He'd been reading up on occlumency since his return to Privet Drive, along with reading his textbooks for the upcoming year and a book on how to become an animagus.
He'd written to Flourish and Blotts as soon as he had gotten to his aunt and uncle's house requesting a book list along with all the books for the NEWT level classes he hoped to take. His books came later that day, and after marking several additional books that he wanted, he'd sent Hedwig back with his requests and settled into studying. He'd let his friends down and nearly gotten them all killed. As it was, they'd all been hurt and Sirius had lost his life. He desperately pushed those thoughts aside. Those kinds of thoughts would not help him to defeat Voldemort.
When Dumbledore had first revealed the prophecy to him and he found out that he would have to face Voldemort in the end, he'd immediately assumed that he would lose. After all he had witnessed the fight between Dumbledore and Voldemort in the atrium at the Ministry of Magic. He was no where near that talented with magic. His despair had quickly turned to anger that he was the so called chosen one, and yet no one had bothered to tell him or train him. He'd almost been willing to accept his fate, to die at the hands of Voldemort. Then he'd realized that if Voldemort won, he wouldn't stop at just killing Harry. This realization had allowed Harry to temper his anger and his despair. He didn't want to be "the-boy-who-lived" or become a murderer, but he knew he didn't have another choice. If he tried to ignore his destiny, Voldemort would keep killing people.
He wasn't ready to ask for Dumbledore's help, at least not yet. He hadn't worked through how he felt about Dumbledore's keeping the prophecy from him. So, for now he would read and learn as much as he could on his own. He pulled his NEWT level Potions book from the stack on his desk and settled back onto his bed with his back propped against his headboard, his pillow making the position slightly more comfortable. With any luck he'd finish his potions textbook and begin his transfiguration text before breakfast.
A sudden scratching at his bedroom window caused Harry set aside his potions text and move towards the one window in his small bedroom. A large brown barn owl flew into the room as soon as Harry opened the window. The bird landed on Harry's desk and presented his leg with the note attached to Harry. Harry took the note and offered the bird some of Hedwig's owl treats. The bird ate them gratefully before flying off out the window. Harry opened the letter to find a note from Albus Dumbledore.
Dear Harry,
I know that this is a very difficult time for you, and I wanted to let you know that we are all thinking of you and looking forward to your return to us. I know that you have been upset with me in the past for keeping things from you. I am terribly sorry for this, and ask that you forgive a foolish old man for doing what he thought was in your best interest.
Much has happened since we last talked and I will tell you all as soon as I see you. It is too dangerous to reveal in a letter, but I wanted to let you know that I will answer all your questions and update you sometime within the next two weeks. Remember Moody's words, and notify me immediately if anything should happen.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Harry reread the letter a second time and wondered why Dumbledore had bothered to send him a letter at all. He had not told him anything. Not when he might leave this place, or what had happened. Anger surged through Harry, and then as quickly as it had come, Harry stamped it out. Anger would not do him any good. He only hoped that Dumbledore stuck to his word this time and stopped keeping things from him. If he'd only known that Voldemort wanted him to come to the Department of Mysteries then maybe he wouldn't have fallen for Voldemort's trap and gotten Sirius killed. 'It's no use thinking like that,' Harry thought to himself. He again pushed those thoughts from his mind, working to erect the walls in his mind to block Voldemort and anyone else from seeing his thoughts. Harry was determined that Voldemort would never again be able to enter his mind. He had spent the last two weeks practicing his Occlumency as much as possible and had noticed that it had a calming effect on him. When he cleared his mind it gave him a sense of peace, however fleeting.
He placed Dumbledore's letter on his already cluttered desk and went back to his Potions text. Within moments he was immersed in reading about the uses of dragon blood in healing potions. He wasn't sure how long he sat there reading before his Uncle's voice interrupted his memorization of the ingredients for the Polyjuice potion.
"BOY! GET DOWN HERE NOW!" The shout of his Uncle forced Harry into action. He quickly stripped off his pajamas and put on clean boxers, jeans and a gray shirt that was much too big. In addition to the fact that the shirt was a cast off of Dudley's, Harry had seemed to grow thinner in the last three weeks. He was also incredibly pale and the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead stood out even more prominently. There were also dark circles under his eyes as he had not slept through the night since that night at the Department of Mysteries. He hurried down the stairs and entered the kitchen where he found his Aunt and Uncle sipping a morning cup of tea. "It's about time. Get breakfast started."
Without uttering a word, Harry immediately went to the refrigerator and removed some eggs and bacon. Returning to the counter and stove he began putting both on, and soon the Dursley's breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast was on the table. "You may have some toast. Then you need to begin work on the list of chores your Aunt has left for you on the counter." Harry nodded and picked up a piece of toast as his cousin Dudley entered the kitchen. Dudley was still quite round, but boxing had begun to turn some of his fat into muscle. He sat down at the table and made his way through two plates full of bacon and eggs, before downing an entire grapefruit and four pieces of toast. Since the warning from Mad-Eye and the others at King's Cross Station, the Dursleys barely spoke to Harry except to give him chores. However, they did feed him at least twice a day and they hadn't locked him in his room or forced him to keep Hedwig locked up in her cage.
Harry had long since finished his one piece of buttered toast and the glass of orange juice his Aunt had set before him. He began cleaning up the breakfast dishes before looking at the list on the counter. It was rather long, but at least it would give him something to do to take his mind off Voldemort and Sirius. With that thought, Harry pocketed the list and went outside to start with the gardening projects first.
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July 5 - 3:04am - Longbottom Manor
"Longbottom…why, I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents, boy…"* Bellatrix Lestrange's voice rang out "Crucio!" Neville awoke with a start his body trembling as he remembered how it had felt to be placed under the cruciatus curse. He pushed a hand back through his damp brown hair and rested his head on his hand for a moment. He'd often wondered how he would react should he ever come face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange, the monster that had tortured his parents into insanity. He felt weak and unprepared that he hadn't been able to contribute more to the fighting. He hadn't even been able to get away from the death eater to properly attack her or defend himself. Glancing at his bedside clock, he slowly got out of bed and headed to his bathroom to take a shower. He knew from experience that he would not get any more sleep tonight. The water would wake him better and he could go back to studying. He was determined that the next time he met with Bellatrix, she would not get the best of him so easily.
Twenty minutes later he was wearing fresh clothes for the day and had settled into a comfortable chair in the downstairs study to review his NEWT level defense against the dark arts book. He'd picked up the text along with some others on defense, potions, transfiguration, charms, and herbology while he was in Diagon Alley to replace his wand that was broken during the fight in the Department of Mysteries. His grandmother had seemed stunned to hear that he had followed Harry Potter and his friends to the Ministry and had then fought in a battle against Death Eaters. She'd looked at him with renewed respect when Professor Dumbledore had informed her that Neville and Harry had fought to the very end and held their own against the Death Eaters until help had arrived. His grandmother had been so proud of him she'd purchased him his new wand and all his new books without a single complaint. He really wanted to deserve the pride she expressed in him. All through his fifth year, he had firmly believed Harry when he said that Voldemort had returned. He had resolved then to work harder than ever to do better in school, especially to learn how to defend himself.
Now he read every day, memorizing and practicing the wand movements, and he made it a point to run every day along with doing some pull ups and sit ups to improve his physical shape. He wanted to be able to defend himself and his friends both physically and magically. The only way to do that was to work at it. Sure, he had made it into the final battle at the Ministry, but how much help had he really been? Next time Harry and the others would be able to count on him.
He shook his head and fought to clear his thoughts so he could focus more on what he was reading. He knew he could do it. He had to do it. He could no longer afford to be a screw up not if he hoped to survive this war, and not if he wanted to protect his friends. He sat up straighter in his chair and carefully practiced the moves with his wand.
Sixth year was going to see a whole new Neville Longbottom.
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* indicates that the quote was taken from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, p. 800. Reviews are welcome, especially helpful comments.