Chapter 6: Hermione (II)
October 2007
In life, as the long-tenured professor of Transfiguration and eventually the Headmistress of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall had touched many people. Thus it was with no surprise that Hermione noted the many other people strolling from Hogsmeade toward Hogwarts around mid-morning on Wednesday.
The sky was filled with low-hanging ugly grey clouds; the wind was strong and chilly. The threat of rain was high, which seemed appropriate for the somber occasion. Hermione was dressed in a formal black dress that fell to her knees, black flats, and a black overcoat to cut against the Highland chill.
As she walked along the path toward Hogwarts, she thought she saw recognition in some faces, but no one said anything to her so she could not be sure. She was one of the heroes of the Second War, but she had not been in Britain since January of 1999, so it could be reasonably expected that she had fallen from immediate memory. She also looked slightly different from her Hogwarts days; she had shorter, more manageable hair and she was a bit lither than she had been at 19.
She kept her eyes open for the other two members of the Trio, both of whom she had not seen since her last day in Britain. They had all kept up letters for a few months after going their separate ways, but even those had trailed off to nothing.
The war had changed them all. She had realized it fully after returning to Australia. When she had started to miss Harry and Ron, she was tempted to go see one or both of them where they were, but they had their own responsibilities by that point, their own daily lives, and so did she. The last conversation they all had together was incredibly difficult and emotional, but it was the explicit indication that something had really changed in their friendship. They had been through so much together, much of which had made their bond stronger, but something was different this time.
Perhaps what Harry had said that day at Grimmauld Place, before he'd gone on vacation, was more right than he suspected. The idea of a happy Weasley family that had settled into their heads throughout their last three years at Hogwarts was nothing more than a fantasy, concocted by schoolchildren with school-age crushes. Letting that go, though, had irrevocably changed the dynamic of their friendship, which had already been sorely tested by the trials and tribulations of the last year of the war.
Hermione was never naïve enough to believe that her close friendship with two boys couldn't eventually lead to romance with one and heartache for the other; she had seen the way both Harry and also Ron had looked at her from time-especially Ron-but at the time it had been more of a lack of other options, for all of them.
She had reached the gates of Hogwarts, and as she passed through the archway, she looked up at the winged boars. Their gaze greeted all who came to the school of witchcraft and wizardry. How many countless people had walked beneath them during the past millennium?
As she rounded a curve in the path and the magnificent castle came into view, overlooking the unsettled Black Lake, a pang of nostalgia hit her heart. She had spent some hard years here, but they were also good years. She had been to hell and back in the name of peace, justice, and friendship; she had made friends here she thought she'd keep for her entire life.
Hermione stopped on a small bluff overlooking the lake. She could see that many people were already at Hogwarts from her vantage point. This looked to be a rather large service, but she knew how long Minerva had played a part in the foundation of magical Britain. The people who came here today honored not only her, but also the entire era in which she lived, which encompassed all of Voldemort's rise and fall, and more.
Though Hermione did not live in Britain anymore or currently practice much magic, she still kept abreast of current events as best as she could. She was aware that this place she had left was a much better environment than it had been; she supposed she was a little bitter that she didn't go to school without her life being endangered at every turn, but really those events had forged her spirit into what it was today.
The war might have changed them all, but growing up and branching out would have anyway. Even if they had not all been at odds those long years ago, they could have been eventually anyway.
Sighing and shrugging lightly, she concluded that it didn't really matter anymore. The past was the past and she couldn't change it; she had her own life now and was as happy as, or happier than, she had ever been. It was this place that was making her feel a bit down about everything; there were too many memories here for anything else to happen. She had known coming back here would send her emotions tumbling for a little while.
Turning her back on the lake, she continued along the path, which sloped gently upward toward the castle. The crowd was thicker now that she was closer, so she just walked at their pace. There was very little conversation going on around her. It seemed that people were either absorbed in their own thoughts or silently mourning their fallen friend and mentor.
She reached the castle and joined the queue for the viewing, which was being held in the Great Hall. She was currently standing just off the steps leading to the Entrance Hall, which meant the queue was fairly long. The actual service was being held later that afternoon on the front lawn of the school.
"Hermione Granger?"
The voice was female and behind her. She turned and a smile quickly blossomed on her face.
"Lavender!" she said. "And Seamus!" Sure enough, standing there in line about ten feet behind her were her two classmates. The people between them and Hermione looked at them all curiously; Hermione stepped out of the queue and waved them forward.
"Merlin, it's been so long," Lavender said. She shifted the young boy in her arms to better accommodate his weight. There was another child, an older girl, standing between Lavender and Seamus.
"It has," Hermione agreed. "Are you two married?"
Lavender nodded and smiled at Seamus. He ruffled his daughter's hair. "Yes, we have been for six years now," Seamus told her. "This little princess is our Janie and that mongrel is Cian," he informed her. Janie looked to be four or five and Cian was approximately two.
"Nice to meet you both," Hermione said, smiling. "And it's lovely to see you both, especially because you're familiar faces. I haven't encountered too many people I recognize yet. And congratulations on the beautiful family."
Lavender beamed at her. Gone was the gossip queen, replaced by a radiant mother.
"Thank you, Hermione. What about you, though? What have you been up to all these years?" The unspoken part of the question was why has no one heard from or seen you in so long?
"I live in Sydney now," she told them. The queue had advanced to the entrance of the castle. "I went to Muggle university and now I'm in graduate school, studying to become a literature professor in the Muggle world."
Both sets of eyebrows shot up at her revelations. "I see…" Lavender intoned. Clearly neither she nor Seamus knew how to respond.
"Yes, unexpected, I'm sure," Hermione put in, laughing lightly. "It was an idea I had and I ran with it. That was more than eight and half years ago now."
"It really has been that long, hasn't it?" Seamus mused, looking down at his daughter. She smiled up at him.
"Indeed," Hermione said. They were inside the Entrance Hall now and could see that the open casket was set up in the large doorway to the Great Hall. Beyond the viewing area, the House tables had been replaced with many smaller tables. The various smells of many delicious foods wafted into the Entrance Hall.
"Was it…natural?" Hermione asked. She nodded toward the coffin.
"From what we've heard, not exactly," Lavender said. "A witch of her stature is expected to live for much longer, but apparently those stunners she was hit with back at the end of our fifth year did some damage to her heart. It was only a matter of time before that caught up with her."
"Oh," Hermione responded, saddened by the information. Minerva had just been defending Hagrid, if memory served correctly, and she'd been thoughtlessly stunned by Umbridge and four or five other people at the same time.
"I'm sure she was an excellent Headmistress," Hermione continued, quietly. "I would have liked to speak with her again, but I haven't been in Britain in a long time."
"She was an amazing Headmistress," Seamus replied. "She really turned this place around from when we all went through here."
Hermione nodded, not answering because it was almost her turn. There was another family in front of her, none of whom she recognized, who were all staring down into the casket. After several long moments, they gathered themselves and passed into the Great Hall. Hermione stepped forward; Minerva's prone body came into view.
The actual sight of the lifeless corpse of her former professor, mentor, and friend brought it home to Hermione, and she couldn't help the stubborn tear or two that escaped her eyes.
Minerva was dressed in her formal Headmistress robes with her witch's hat beneath her crossed hands. Her long, graying hair had been brushed out and was spread symmetrically around her head. Death had softened the age lines in her face, making her look much more relaxed than Hermione had ever seen her. Magical makeup was good, but it could only do so much against the inexorable pallor of death, so she was very, very pale. She looked so delicate.
Hermione sniffed once, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and nodded to Seamus and Lavender. They had been quietly watching her the whole time. They nodded back sympathetically.
She turned away from the casket and strode into the Great Hall. Long tables with hors d'oeuvres and various selections for a light lunch stood at either side of the hall. Groups of people were either milling around the food or sitting at the many tables in between. Hermione thought about waiting for Lavender and Seamus so she wouldn't be alone in here, but two things stopped her: she didn't want to intrude upon their family and she spotted someone that made her heart speed up just a little bit.
Really, how could one miss the colossal 6'5" frame and flaming red hair of Ron Weasley? He was a full head taller than anyone else in the hall, with the exception of Hagrid (someone with whom Hermione would have to chat with before the day ended). He was standing with most of his family at the hors d'oeuvres, and they were all wearing variations on black wizards' and witches' robes. They all had their backs to Hermione.
She scanned the hall with her eyes once more, looking for her other old friend. Some tables were obscured by people, but she thought she would have been able to spot Harry immediately, if he were here. Maybe he had decided not to come? Or it was possible that he had arrived later than her and was still in the queue.
Hermione had known that she would likely see one or both of them today, so it wouldn't do to avoid them now that she was here. They may have had a falling out, or whatever something like what had happened was called, but that didn't mean they disliked each other.
She watched as the conversation between the various Weasleys continued. It seemed that only Bill was missing from the group. Arthur was the only one turned more toward Hermione than away, and she thought he looked rather bronzed. This surprised her, as he had red hair and a naturally fair complexion. The October British sun couldn't have made him look like that. Molly turned at that moment and Hermione saw that she was just as tan as her husband. Perhaps they did not live in Britain anymore?
But now Hermione was just procrastinating, and she knew it. She squared her shoulders and walked toward the Weasleys. When she was ten feet from them, she somehow caught Arthur's eye and he looked at her. There was a moment of recognition on his face, followed by an incredibly large and bright grin.
"Hermione!" he all but shouted. She winced internally at the attention being so decisively turned toward her. All of the Weasleys turned; Ron was the slowest, however, so everyone was staring at her by the time he turned fully around.
She stopped a few feet from him. He really was a giant. She was slightly taller than average for a woman, but Ron towered over her. She didn't remember him being this tall; he must have grown some since she'd last seen him.
"Hello Hermione."
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