Visit 4
Still rainy again today, but at least Dr. Stone turned on the heater in the office. The rain is making it so humid that a normal braid isn’t concealing my hair’s puffiness.
“Afternoon, Hermione. How are you today?”
He looks different today, weird.
“I’m good,” I sat back on the couch, “Any update on the letter?”
“Been worried about it all week?”
“A bit.”
“I heard back. Draco-”
“Malfoy, not Draco.”
“Right,” he cleared his throat, pulling a small letter out of his pocket, “Malfoy sent a letter back via owl. I’m guessing that is a wizard thing.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Right. Well, the letter agreed to tea tomorrow afternoon and they look forward to talking with you. He asked if they needed to bring anything as well. I’m sure you can see to responding to that question on your own.”
“I will.”
“Good,” he put the letter on the center table in front of me, “Now, is your list ready for review?”
“I think so.”
“Good,” he extends his hand for the list, “Ready?”
“Yup.”
“Alright, let’s start with Dumbledore.”
“Okay.”
“What can you not forgive?”
“He raised us to fight a battle that wasn’t ours. He made it our war even though it was his to begin with. He turned us into child soldiers without a second thought.”
“And why is that unforgivable for you?”
“We were just children, it wasn’t fair. I went there for an education, not to be trained to fight a war.”
“Alright,” he opens another folder, “And do you feel as if he abused his power as your headmaster?”
“Exactly.”
“Good. Do you think you can move on knowing that he is gone, the war is over, and McGonagall is now headmistress?”
“I think so.”
“Is there anything else about him that you want to air out before we move on?”
“He was manipulative towards Harry and used that rooted manipulation to raise him to be killed!” The volume of my voice startled me, “Okay, I’m good.”
“Okay, moving on to Dolohov.”
“That bastard, he cursed me. He left a scar down the side of my ribs in the Department of Mysteries. He followed us while we were on the run too. I killed him in the Battle of Hogwarts, but he haunts me.”
“How does he haunt you?”
“Nightmares and attacks that are rooted in that battle at the Ministry.”
“What do you need to release to forget him and move on?”
“He’s dead. I killed him.”
“That’s right,” he leaned forward, holding eye contact, “Dolohov is dead. He cannot touch you, curse you, look at you. You are safe from him. He is dead.”
“Dolohov is dead. He cannot touch me, curse me, or look at me.”
“Good. Are you ready for the next person?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. What do you want to forget about Ron?”
“This one is going to be hard.”
“Take all the time you need to gather your thoughts.”
Sitting in silence, I think through every moment I want to move on from. Every bruise, each negative word he said, even the smell of nasty malt liquor filled my nose.
“I want to forget everything. Even the early days when we were friends and everything was happy. I want to forget the stupid bickering when we were children. I want to forget the days after the war when we were paraded like heroes. The fights during reformation, I want to forget those. The grabbing, the bruising, the swings, all while Harry stared blankly at a wall. Those days were nearly darker than the war itself. The death tolls kept rising, his swings got harder. I want to forget everything that happened up until the incident. That was the first time I did anything to protect myself.”
“Let go, Hermione. He’s at St. Mungo’s where he is under Ministry supervision until the trial. He cannot reach out to you, he cannot touch you, he cannot come near you. You are safe.”
“I am safe. He is restrained.”
“He is going to prison.”
“He is going to prison.”
“You are safe from him.”
“I’m safe from him.”
“Do you need to ground yourself?”
“Yes, please.”
“Tell me five things you can see.”
“Lamp. Table. Books. Folders. Glasses.”
“Good, four things you can touch.”
“Couch. Carpet. Wall. Notebook.”
“Three things you can hear.”
“Cars. Heater. Footsteps.”
“Good, two things you can smell.”
“Sandalwood. Ink.”
“Perfect, one thing you can taste.”
“Tea.”
“Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m okay.”
“Let’s divert to something different for now. Would you like to prepare for tea tomorrow?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Great. What are some thoughts that you feel ready to discuss with them?”
“I think I have some apologies of my own for them. I think I judged them just as much as they judged me when we were children.”
“Okay, and what are your goals for this conversation with them?”
“I think my goal is to at least be acquaintances. I don’t expect friendships, just acknowledgement of one another.”
“I think that’s a good goal to have. Do you feel prepared enough to see them again?”
“I saw them recently,” at the anniversary, before the incident, “I’m not worried.”
“When was the last time you saw them?”
Shit.
“I saw them at the anniversary. I was incharge of giving a speech that reintroduced them to the Wizarding World following the reformation program they took part in during house arrest. Some of them went through house arrest at different levels.”
“And during the anniversary, did you interact with one another?”
“No,” I dive deep into my mind for a moment, “But I did hear one of them before I passed out after the incident. I’m not sure who but they called me by my last name so it had to be one of them.”
“By your last name?”
“Most of the Slytherins talk to each other using last names instead of firsts. I’m honestly surprised they didn’t just call me ‘moodblood’ but that’s part of the reformation.”
“But someone saw you after the incident before the Minister and Harry found you?”
“I think so,” my head hurts, “I may have imagined it, could be nothing more than my brain filling in blanks.”
“That’s a fair assessment, but maybe you should bring that up with them tomorrow.”
“Maybe.”
“What else would you like to focus on today?”
“I have some questions. I’ve been doing some research but you might have more insight.”
“I’m ready whenever you are.”
“I know that I was diagnosed with PTSD and anxiety, but I’ve been reading up on some other things. I know self-diagnosis is dangerous and just assuming it isn't the best way to go, but I’ve noticed some changes in myself since the sabbatical started. I think I might have signs of depression. I’m struggling to get out of bed, clean, or even shower. I know I’ll get my flat ready for the meeting tomorrow, but the idea already seems like such a difficult feat.”
“It is a possibility, you’ve experienced a lot of loss. We can always look more into that over time. It’s not something I can give a clear answer on immediately, sometimes we have depressive episodes, other times it doesn’t go away.”
“I know,” I nod, “I just wanted to put it in your mind.”
“It’s good to know your own mind, Hermione. You were always known as the Brightest Witch of Your Age. You hate the title, I know, but you are bright. That’s a good thing to be when you’re evaluating yourself through this type of therapy.”
“Right.”
“We will do some additional investigative measures to learn more about you through our sessions. We can also space them out or add additional sessions. Whatever you need.”
“Thank you, Dr. Stone.”
“Of course,” he gave a soft smile, putting down his folders and picking up his notebook, “Are you ready for our weekly check in?”
“Yeah.”
“Any attacks this past week related to anxiety?”
“No.”
“Nightmares? If so, please elaborate.”
“No, not nightmares. Some unsettling, weird dreams, but not nightmares.”
“That’s progress from the nightmares. How were these dreams weird?”
“I felt completely awake, lucid. Just everything in the dream was strange. I felt like someone was with me there but I was in an empty white room. There was no door, no windows. Just a white box. I could feel a set of eyes watching me but no one was there.”
“That is strange. What do you think it means?”
“I think it was because of the conversation we had last week about everyone having different opinions. I can feel eyes on my every move, that kind of thing.”
“I feel like that’s a fair evaluation. Dreams aren’t something we know much about. I don’t know if that is different in your world, but dreams here have some meanings but not all of them.”
“Some people can dreamwalk in our world, or jump into other people’s minds. It’s rare, too rare to be happening to me.”
“Interesting, I learn something new every day.”
“Just a legilimency spell.”
“Interesting,” his pen scratches the paper a few times, “Okay, any thoughts of self-harm or suicide?”
“Nope.”
“Good,” a few more scratches, “What would you like to focus on next week?”
“Why do you ask about my focuses?”
“You know your mind better than I do. Since this is focused on your personal growth, I want you to have complete control on what we discuss.”
“I appreciate that. I think I want to start with how tea goes. After that maybe we could focus on the Final Battle?”
“The Battle of Hogwarts?”
“Yes. That way you have a complete understanding of that before we discuss the incident further. The anniversary was the main trigger so it feels right to start with the Battle itself.”
“Sounds great, I will see you next Thursday. Take time to get some rest before you prepare your flat for the meeting tomorrow. If it gets too overwhelming, you know how to reach us.”
“I know. Have a good week, Dr. Stone.”