We All See The Thestrals
We All See The Thestrals
Hermione Granger’s eighth year at Hogwarts had been going well, all things considered. No one had died, at the very least, and that was a marked improvement on previous years. Entering the Great Hall for the first time since the battle had been an experience she wouldn’t forget in a hurry. The younger students sat around the tables, chattering excitedly about the year ahead, whilst those who had fought in the war kept their eyes fixed to the floor, remembering the bodies that had been kept in the room, white sheets covering their friends and family. Hermione had found the divide quite profound, between those that had been forced to see death and those that hadn’t needed to. She assumed it was a record number of students this year that were able to see the thestrals. It was because of this thought that she’d gone to McGonagall with an idea, and the new headmistress had set it up immediately. All of the eighth year students had gathered in the Great Hall the next day, and they’d been given the opportunity to say goodbye to the many friends they’d lost. In an impromptu gesture, the whole group had ended up holding hands, in a long line that snaked through the tables, bonding them all through their shared grief. There was a slight commotion where a gryffindor student Hermione didn’t recognise refused to hold the hand of a curly haired slytherin boy, therefore breaking the circle. Hermione had thought that was pathetic, maintaining house rivalries when they’d all lost just as much as each other, so she had marched over and bridged the gap herself. She hadn’t recognised him before she’d taken his hand, but she realised the slytherin student was Theodore Nott, the other student forced to get the dark mark alongside Draco Malfoy. She supposed it made a little more sense that they wouldn’t want to hold the hand of a former death eater, but she was willing to make the gesture, even if nobody else was.
“Thank you, Granger.” Theo had muttered to her. It surprised her that he’d be civil and even willing to hold her supposedly dirty hand, but now wasn’t the time to get into pureblood politics.
“Anytime, Nott.” She nodded once, and then faced forwards to listen to the words McGonagall had put together to honour their fallen classmates.
After that day, animosity faded slightly amongst the year group, the walls built between those on different sides of the wall falling away. The war had been fought because of prejudice and hatred, and Hermione found herself without the energy needed to maintain those feelings towards students that had sided with Voldemort. She was intelligent, she could see it hadn’t been their choice, and if they wanted to try and earn a second chance, who was she to stand in their way? She wasn’t looking to be friends with any of them, just as she imagined they weren’t looking to be friends with her, but if she had to work with them on a potions project, she’d do so happily. Well, perhaps not happily, but she would make an effort to be polite, at the very least. She was willing to accept apologies if they were willing to give them, and continue their lives as indifferent acquaintances. Her feelings towards Draco Malfoy were slightly different, considering her blood had stained the floorboards of his drawing room, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. If she ever came to it, which she doubted heavily. The blonde wizard had avoided her like the plague ever since the school term had begun, and she was perfectly content to do the same. She and Harry had spoken up at his trial, offering their testimony that he had lied about recognising them when they were brought in by the snatchers, as well as his mother lying to Voldemort himself about Harry being alive, and that had kept the two Malfoys out of Azkaban. The Malfoy patriarch was sentenced to life, and there was nothing Hermione could have done about that, even if she had wanted to. As it stood, she felt he was where he deserved to be, but that didn’t mean his wife and son deserved to join him. Malfoy and Nott were the only two former death eaters that hadn’t spent any time in Azkaban, and she was pleased to hear that. She’d never wanted her peers to go to prison, not when their actions were a result of coercion and heavy familial expectation. They’d done what they had to to keep their family safe, and was that not exactly what Hermione had done? She’d performed an illegal obliviation spell on her defenceless muggle parents, and not once had she faced any repercussions for that. It had been in their best interests, but she had changed their lives forever without their consent and not been reprimanded for it. It was a double standard, and not one she was willing to stand for. After his trial, Malfoy had sent her a letter, full of apologies and explanations, as well as his thanks for assisting with his mother’s trial. He didn’t thank her for his own, oddly enough, but she didn’t ask him why. She simply replied with a short sentence.
Life moves on, and so should we.
He didn’t write again after that.
In the first week of November, McGonagall gathered the eighth year students, citing that she had an important announcement from the Ministry.
“You think we’re getting more awards?” Ron asked, snacking on something sticky that he had secreted in his robe pocket. How she’d ever fancied that man, she truly did not understand. They’d agreed it best to stay friends and not try for anything more, and she was glad of that decision. She couldn’t live the rest of her life sitting opposite his horrific lack of table manners, no matter how much she loved him.
“Not everyone in the room would be recognised by the Ministry in a positive sense, mate.” Harry replied, tilting his head towards the slytherin table. Hermione soured, having worked with both Nott - who insisted on her calling him Theo in a very un-slytherin-like request - and Zabini in a few classes this term with no problem. She’d even studied with Malfoy on one occasion, working well together by pointedly speaking only when entirely necessary, and only about the subject at hand. Despite herself, she didn’t say anything in response to Harry’s comment. Ginny had her head resting on his shoulder, but Harry seemed tense. Hermione wondered what was wrong, but now wasn’t the time to ask. How much she kept in these days, how much she kept to herself.
“Eighth year quidditch league?” Ginny offered hopefully, but Hermione shook her head.
“What’s that got to do with the Ministry? No, something big has happened.” She tried not to sound so ominous, but she couldn’t help it. She had a bad feeling in her stomach that whatever McGonagall had to say wasn’t good news.
“Well, guess we’re about to find out.” Harry muttered as McGonagall rose from her seat and stood at the front of the Hall. Hermione’s eyes drifted towards the slytherin table, and she saw that they looked as nervous as she felt. Pansy Parkinson was gripping on to Daphne Greengrass’ hand like she’d float away if she dared let go. Even the usually stoic Blaise Zabini looked apprehensive. Malfoy and Nott were sitting together, shoulder to shoulder, like the physical touch was grounding for them. She could appreciate that. In the first few weeks after Voldemort’s defeat, she’d given more hugs than she ever had in her life before, just wanting to hold her friends and know that they were alive and well. She turned her attention back to McGonagall, who was amplifying her voice using her wand in order to fill the large Hall with her words.
“Good morning eighth year students, thank you for gathering here today. I’ll get straight to it, as I have heard several rumours going around as to what this meeting is concerning and I want you to know the truth as soon as possible. Yesterday, I received word from the Ministry that they are enacting an old law, following the massive losses the Wizarding World faced during the war. I want you to know that I do not personally believe this to be the answer, but I was not involved in the decision and am simply relaying the information. The Ministry is enacting a mandatory marriage law.”
The room exploded. Hermione watched as students stood and shouted that they couldn’t do this to them, screaming their confusion at such a drastic measure. Hermione couldn’t really form any thoughts at that moment. Her ears were ringing, her head empty. She simply stared blankly. A mandatory marriage law, presumably to encourage population growth after so many witches and wizards were killed. The Wizarding World was dying out, and the Ministry was desperate. Next to her, she could vaguely register Ginny and Ron shouting, typical Weasley anger coming to the fore. She glanced at Harry, who was quiet as she was. She simply reached for his hand, and he took it, squeezing gently. She could be angry later. For now, she didn’t know what to think.
“IF I COULD CONTINUE!” McGonagall shouted, and the room quietened down somewhat, but not entirely. “Thank you. As I said, I do not agree with this decision and I appreciate entirely that you are upset-”
“Upset? You’re taking away our right to choose who we marry!” Someone screeched from the front of the room.
“I understand that, Miss Bulstrode.” Ah, Millicent Bulstrode. Mouthy slytherin who spent her time fighting those younger than her. It was no surprise that she was refusing to keep quiet.
“The Ministry has performed tests to find the person that you are most compatible with, in order to make this go as smoothly as possible. You will have a percentage of compatibility with your partner, and all pairings are at least 90% in order to give you your best chance at happiness. This is not intended to be some dictatorial move, it is simply a means to an end. The amount of people with magic took a significant hit in the war, as you are all more than aware, and this is the attempt to remedy that. It is this, or we die out. That was the choice.”
More shouts rose from the crowd. Hermione took a moment to ponder the tests the Ministry had apparently conducted. How did they calculate compatibility without asking them? What was it based on? She knew she’d be the only person in the room wondering that right now, but she couldn’t help who she was.
“Who gives a shit how they worked it out?! They can’t do this to us!” Parkinson yelled from the slytherin table, and she realised she was shouting at Malfoy. Apparently not the only person wondering about the compatibility calculations then.
“If you are in an existing relationship, then there is a good chance you will stay with your partner, however if there is someone more compatible out there, then you will have been paired with them instead.” McGonagall continued, and that caused louder shouts. Ginny was clinging to Harry, tears in her eyes. Harry had an unreadable expression on his face, and if Hermione didn’t know better, she would have said it looked like relief.
“You will receive an owl in a few minutes with your percentage and a meeting time. At your allotted time, please make your way to my office, and you will be introduced to your marriage partner. You have been given the rest of the school year to get to know them, and the marriage ceremonies will take place in the summer. I’m sorry it has to be this way, I truly am, but I would urge you to try and make the best of it. There is a high chance that you will get on well with your new partner, if you give this opportunity your full commitment. Lessons have been cancelled today, so please make your way to your common rooms.” McGonagall waved an arm, and marched out of the Hall quickly, presumably to avoid any more questions.
The room was loud once more, and Hermione looked around at her peers, tears streaming from the eyes of many of them. She saw couples clinging to each other, and she hated that more goodbyes were being said. They’d lost too much already for them to be forced apart from someone they’d only just found. Ginny was wrapped around Harry, clutching him like she never wanted to let go. Harry met her eye, and she saw fear. Ron was still shouting, standing on the bench like he was inciting revolution. Her eyes swept around the room, and she found herself observing the slytherins once more. They were all quiet, and she saw they were clutching each other’s hands. She felt a bit bad for them. It must be terrifying to be faced with the very real possibility that your partner for life might hate you. She silently hoped, for their sakes, that they’d been paired off with each other. That they might find peace that way.
She briefly considered who she might have been paired with, but decided not to try and work it out. She felt a little guilty that she desperately hoped it wouldn’t be Ron, who had been eyeing her ever since McGonagall had first uttered the word ‘marriage’. She knew they weren’t compatible, she highly doubted they were above 90%, and so she held onto hope.
A flurry of parchment suddenly dropped from the ceiling, magically appearing above their heads, delivering their meeting times and percentages. She caught hers, and opened it quickly.
100% 11am
100%?! She hadn’t been expecting that. How statistically likely was it for her perfect match to be in this room, this room that had always felt so vast that suddenly felt tiny. Hermione wanted to know now more than ever how this number had been worked out. What was it based on? Did they know her life plans? Her goals and dreams?
She looked up from her parchment to find Ginny sobbing. She wasn’t with Harry, their numbers were different, she could tell immediately. Harry leaned over to her.
“Mine’s 99%. Her’s is 96%. Ron got 95%. What’s yours?” Harry said in a surprisingly calm voice, gesturing to her parchment. She simply turned it around to show him, not being able to form words. His eyes went wide, and he looked at her in alarm.
“I thought mine was high. Merlin, Mione, what are we going to do?”
“Marry our soulmates, apparently.” She said bitterly, leaning her head on his shoulder. He put his head on top of hers and sighed. “How has this been allowed to happen, Harry? Have we not been through enough? Given enough?”
“I’d thought so. I guess it was stupid to think they’d just let us live our lives now it’s all over. There’s always going to be something more, another rug being pulled out from under us. We’ll never know peace, Mione, they won’t let us.” He sounded so tired, so sad. She could cry. Instead, she took a deep breath.
“What if we tried to make the best of this? Both of our percentages are high, Harry, what if this is our chance to find the people we were meant to be with? Maybe it will work out.”
“It could be anyone in this room, Mione, doesn’t that scare the hell out of you? Someone in this room has the other 100% to match yours, they’re sitting in here right now.” His words hit her right in the stomach, and she resisted the urge to gape wildly around the Hall. Instead, she focused on her best friend.
“What if I hadn’t found them without this happening? What if you’d never found whoever yours is? I have no doubt you would have been happy, but what if you could be happier? This might be a blessing in disguise, Harry.”
“I was happy already.” He mumbled, and she looked up at him.
“Were you?” She whispered, and he tensed. She knew Harry Potter better than anyone, she could read him like a book. He met her eyes, and his gaze confirmed her suspicions. She offered him a sad smile, and he sighed before standing.
“My meeting is in ten minutes.” He announced to the table, and Ginny’s head whipped around, panic stricken. He reached for her hand and squeezed gently. “It’s going to be alright, Gin. I promise.”
She nodded, wiping away the last of her tears. “Friends?” She whispered, and Harry nodded.
“Friends.” He pulled her into a hug, and she held him tight.
Harry went to stand, but paused, something flashing across his face.
“I didn’t want to do this like this, but, er, I want to tell you all something. Just in case.”
“What is it?” Ginny asked, pressing a hand to his arm.
“There’s a chance that the person I’m matched with won’t be, um. They might not be a witch.” He stammered, looking at his feet.
“Oh.” Ginny said, dropping her hand. He looked up sheepishly. Hermione replied quickly, not wanting her best friend to have any doubts.
“Harry, we'll always support you, whatever happens. Witch or wizard, it changes nothing between us.” Hermione said, and Harry blew out a long breath.
“Thank you Mione.” He said, looking lighter somehow, like this had been weighing on him.
“Whatever happens, mate. I’m going nowhere.” Ron added. Harry nodded in response.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ginny asked quietly, looking at Harry with sad eyes.
“There just wasn’t the right time, Gin, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to come back today with a wizard and just spring it on you. I just wasn’t ready.” He said.
Ginny shook her head. “Don’t apologise, Harry. It’s ok, I just thought we could tell each other anything. I’ll be happy for you, whoever it is you come back with.” She said, reaching for his hand. He nodded, holding her hand briefly before dropping it again.
“Ok. Well, wish me luck, I guess.” Harry said, before rolling his shoulders back and leaving the Hall. Hermione looked around as other students slowly left the Hall, and she wondered briefly which one of them it was that would be with Harry.
“Common room?” Ron said, placing an arm around his sister, who was shaking slightly.
“Let’s go.” Hermione agreed, standing back slightly to let Ginny and Ron out first. They made their way out of the Hall, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Parkinson sobbing into Malfoy’s shoulder. The other slytherins had all left already, either for their meetings or time alone in the common room. She felt for the black haired witch, she truly did. Malfoy and Parkinson had bullied her relentlessly in the past, but seeing them now, clinging to each other like they had nothing left, she saw the truth of who they were. Broken, lonely children who had made the wrong choice, and now they were paying for it. She silently asked the gods above to place both the snakes with people who were understanding of how they had gotten here. Compatibility aside, forgiveness was hard to come by, and she couldn’t help but hope that they would end up content with their situations somehow. She briefly wondered if blood purity had been considered, but shook away the thought. Of course the Ministry wouldn’t have factored in blood status, not after fighting a war to eradicate such nonsense. She wondered what the Sacred 28 parents would think of all this. Presumably they’d be enraged if they found out their precious pure familial lines were about to be polluted. That thought brought Hermione a little comfort, even if it was vindictive. She could just picture an incensed Narcissa Malfoy throwing as much money as was needed at the problem, to ensure her heir married a proper young lady of good breeding. Hermione wondered what the likelihood of her success would be, considering the Wizengamot had a track record of not being the most just of institutions. She was not ignorant of the old boy’s club that was in power, the numerous backroom deals that went on. She sighed, and continued to follow her two ginger friends up the stairs. This was not a fair situation, by any stretch of the imagination, but if they’d truly found someone she was 100% compatible with, then could it really be that bad? She was willing to keep an open mind, at least. She had nothing to lose.