They Say She Is

They say she is…

A/N: My muse is simple girl. All she likes are plot bunnies and reviews. So be kind to Maggie and feed her review cookies please. Big thanks to my beta Lbandoly for her hard work.

No copyright infringement intended. All characters are the property of JKR, Scholastic, and any number of other companies with more money than I've ever dreamed of seeing. I didn't make any money off of this, so please don't sue.

HG HG HG HG HG HG

They say you never see her coming. One moment things are moving as they should, all blood, gore, and piercing screams from your victim of choice. Then the next moment a chestnut beauty is there wand in one hand, gleaming sword in another, both trained on you.

Not many dare train their weapons on the likes of a criminal, but she dares not one but two. Her wand is known. Vinewood polished to a high finish. Her sword is just as recognizable. It killed a basilisk once upon a time. There aren't many who don't know one or the other. Most wizards know both.

They say she doesn't speak with her voice, but rather with her mind. Seeking only truth and justice for those you do harm. Her questions are quick, clean, and always clear. After all she needs only to know the answers to but a few things. Did you follow the Dark Lord? Did you perform at his bidding? Do you still do the biddings of a man, no thing long cold in his grave? Do you carry the mark?

She gets her answers from your mind. No need to answer with your own voice. There is no need for lies and subterfuge. She can see the answers she seeks for herself without ever laying a hand on you. Armed with the answers in hand she plays judge, jury, and executioner.

They say she was all book smarts and frizzy hair way back when. She, a muggle-born, was forever bent on proving that she was worthy to be called a witch. A Gryffindor true, she held fast to her best friends and never once wavered when the times were bleak.

Rarely were her chestnut locks missed between their black and red. She was the tie that bound them together. She kept them close and never failed them when it was most important.

They say she was his, his life, his heart, his soul, his beloved…now his mourning wife. There are rumors that he actually married her and loved her till his time ran out. There are just as many that say he didn't. No one knows for sure. She never stops long enough for someone worthy to ask.

She wears his mark. A jagged lightening bolt craved into a gleaming ruby on her left hand. Some say she wears a tiny snitch over her heart and a charm bracelet on her ankle that rings with tiny bells as she deals out her personal brand of justice.

They say she lives behind the cold stone walls of the school that once she learned in. But not a single student has ever seen her aside from her picture on the tapestry in the Great Hall; the one that recounts the final battle, the moment he left her.

Some say the picture the cloth paints is eerie. Others say it makes the whole lot look like crazed morons with a taste for the dramatic. Those who were there have nothing to say about it at all. They are content to let their eyes mist over and keep their memories and their pains to themselves. No one knows if she's ever actually seen it.

They say she is the angel of death. They say she forces the remains of a dark regime to fall to their own fate. They say she is a light in the fading darkness. They say the dawn will finally break at the ends of her wand and sword when the last Death Eater falls.

She says nothing. She guards her heart behind stone walls so thick the best legilimens couldn't find the secrets given a lifetime of searching. She deals death by wand and by sword granting final darkness to the darkest of hearts. She is a true lioness set on revenge for fallen friends and loved ones.

She is after all only what they have made her into. She is a product of too many years spent waging a war on darkness. She the only fighter left after the final flight of the Phoenix.

She was the brains of the Golden Trio. She was studious one. She was the only girl among them. She was the bushy haired one. She was the loving, faithful forever sort of friend. She was the loving wife. She was life.

Now she is the grieving widow. She is the distraught best friend. She is the only one remaining. She is the chestnut beauty. She is judge. She is jury. She is executioner. She is death.

Oh there are many things that she was and many things that she is. The only constant is her name. She was then and will forever be Hermione.

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