Chapter 2
Febuary 6th, 1999
She stared out at the barren field, the wind blowing her chesnut curls across her face obscuring her view. The sun had long ago set, casting the safe house in shadows. Hermione’s arms throbbed. Tonight had been a close call. If she truly thought about it, the last six months of this war has been filled with close calls. Voldemort’s army was growing and the Order’s was shrinking. She’d lost count of the bodies she’d drug back only to be met with the sobs of wives, siblings, parents. The war was taking its toll on everything it touched. The Order’s resources were stretched thin, the safe houses were overflowing with muggle-born refugees and half-bloods.
Hermione often found herself going back through her memories and trying to remember when she started to feel like she was on the losing side of this war. She always tracked it back to the Battle of Hogwarts. So much death, so much despair. That battle had turned the tide of the war. Hopelessness and exhaustion caused witches and wizards to flee. It became a rescue mission rather than a battle. She remembers the look on Harry’s face as Voldemort fled the battle ground, having found out that the only horcrux left was Nagini. They knew then, standing amongst their fallen companions, that this war was far from over. Hermione couldn’t find it in her to resent the witches and wizards who fled instead of continuing to fight. She wonderd if maybe she should flee to Australia, find her parents, and just try to survive this war. She believes that maybe she would if she hadn’t made herself a target by befriending Harry Potter in first year.
“Bloody massacre, that’s what tonight was.” Ron came to stand beside her, his hair disheveled and dried blood tracking down his neck. In his left hand was a bottle of Firewhisky
The war had taken more from Ron than he showed. It’d been nine months since the Battle of Hogwarts, nine months since Fred had been killed. Ron hadn’t let up since. Always volunteering for every mission and barley sleeping. She’d tried to get through to him at the beginning, convince him to take time to grieve. Their friendship was another thing the war had taken from them. Ron pulled away after Fred’s death. He accused Hermione and Harry of smothering him. Harry had pulled away as well. Shacklebolt barred him from being apart of missions; deeming him too important to risk. Everytime Hermione came back carrying another casualty, she could see a piece of Harry being chipped away. He’d never said it but Hermione could tell that when he looked at her all he saw was the friends she’d dragged home.
“They knew we were coming. Anticipated it even. I keep telling Shacklebolt that someone in our inner cicrlce is compromised-“
Hermione huffed an exasperated breath. She’d just spent the last four hours digging a hole to burying Seamus Finnigan’s body in and the two before that were spent consoling his mother. “Of course they knew we were coming, Ronald. They were transferring muggle born prisoners. There isn’t a spy in the order. We’re predictable.”
Ron’s blue eyes bore into hers. She could see the anger swimming with the grief, both fighting to drown the other. “Shacklebolt’s death eater contact says the Voldemort is preparing to fight. That’s he’s confident he’ll win this war even with Nagini as his last horcrux.”
“It was bound to come about some time. This war can’t go on forever, I suppose.”
“Do you think he made more horcruxes?” Ron sounded defeated at the possibility. His hair had grown since the start of the war, curling against the nape of his neck. The copper color of his hair contrasted against his sickly pale skin.
Hermione pulled her bottom lip inbetween her teeth, shaking her head slowly. “No, he split his soul into seven pieces. By destroying those horcruxes we freed the pieces of his soul. He never got those pieces back. It’s highly improbable that he’d be able to make more, there isn’t much human left in him. Harry and Nagini are the only things tying him here.”
“Shacklbolt’s contact said that Voldemort truly believes he can win.”
“He’s probably can.”
“What do we do ‘mione?”
Hermione snagged the bottle of Firewhisky dangling from his left hand and shrugged. “Die trying.”
February 23rd, 2000: Present Day
Hermione traced the faded pink lines of the dark mark on her right arm. She remembered the relief she felt when the dark mark went inactive following the death of Voldemort. She’d hope with time time it would fade all together but two months since the fall of the Dark Lord and it hadn’t changed in the slightest. An ugly, pink reminder of the sacrifices she made. Not that she needed the reminder as she stood outside the Wizengamot court room in shackles. It was eerily silent and she metally thanked Merlin. She’d requested a closed court room. Only her, the Chief Warlock, and fifty judges in plum-colored robes. She pleaded her case in front of Kinsley Shacklebolt, her old adversary and the current Minister of Magic. She made the argument that the memories being extracted could impact future Death Eater trials. After watching a few of the memories, Shacklebolt and Chief Warlock agreed.
“Hermione Granger,” a stout man called out from the door leading into the court room. He held a scribe and wore the ridicous purple robes.
Hermione’s spine stiffened. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, preparing herself for the verdict she knew was imminent. With all the bravery of a Gryffindor she could muster, hermione lifted her chin and walked into the court room, shackles rattling in a farewell.
~ ~ ~
“Hermione Granger,” the Chief Warlock casted her a mistrusting glance. She stood in the middle of the giant, black cage that held prisoners of Azkaban. “I am going to list off the evidence that played the biggest role in our decision here today. I will then read your sentencing which will then require a verbal acknowledgment. Do you understand?”
Her mouth was parched and her lips dry. This was the third day of trail. She had to sit through the testimonies of Minerva McGonagall, Kinsley Shacklebolt, and Poppy Pomfrey. All of whom called for leniency and spoke of the good deeds she had done during her time in the Order. Hermione stayed quiet but she wanted to shout, to grab them by the shoulders and shake them. Had her time in the Order canceled out the horrible things she had done while a death eater? Did they have a clue what she was made to do? The people she’d killed? The judges and Chief Warlock knew, they had seen her memories. Hermione had stared blankly at the floor while the Pensive replayed her most horrific crimes and punishments, fighting the urge to cry.
“Yes, Chief Warlock.”
“In the sentencing of Hermione Granger we have taken into account her time in the Order of the Pheonix. According to Kingsley Shacklebolt and Minerva McGonagll, Miss Granger became a member of the Order in August 1995. She played a crucial part in the rescue and recovery of an estimated 678 wizards and witches. Poppy Pomfrey also testified on behalf of the accused. Madam Pomfrey stated that Miss Granger excelled in healing and potions and that without the aid of Miss Granger, the death toll from the war would be astronomical. We have also taken into account the memories of Miss Granger from her time as a Death Eater.” The Chief Warlock paused and gave Hermione a knowing look. She swallowed back bile.
They had seen all of her memories spanning the eight months she was Voldemort’s prisoner. They knew those four little words Voldemort hissed in her ear as she laid, barley conscious and bloody on the floor.
“We have chosen not to share these publicly at this time as they are case sensitive and will aid in the sentencing of other accused Death Eaters. However, the memories provided by Miss Granger indicate that she was an unwilling participant in the Dark Lord’s plan and took the Dark Mark to aid the Order. Further details will be released in regards to our decision after the proceeding trials-“
Hermione toned out the Chief Warlock as he recounted all the trails her memories now impacted. Took the Dark Mark to aid the Order? What was their angle?
“Miss Granger?” She looked up and found an expectant look aimed at her.
“I’m sorry. I’m so- yes?” She choked out.
“I am going to read you our verdict and sentencing. It would help you tremendously to pay attention.” Hermione bobbed her head up and down. Dread clawed it’s way up from her stoamach to her chest, tightening it slightly. “Hermione Granger you are herby sentenced to five years probation. You will not be allowed to leave Europe for any reason unless on Ministry business. You will have a trace placed on you so the Ministry of Magic can locate you at all times. The terms of your probation are as follows: You will work as a healer out of St. Mungos Hospital, however you will be assigned a position with in the ministry to aid Aurors. When you are not actively working a case you will be on rotation at St. Mungos. You will also agree to a monthly wand scanning in which we will be able to see every spell you have casted. You are hereby forbidden to practice the Dark Arts. This includes the use of unforgivable curses, brewing dark potions, and breeding dark creatures. Any misconduct between now and the end of your probationary period will result in immediate imprisonment in Azkaban while you await another trial. I can assure you another trial with your history will result in an extended imprisonment. Do you understand and accept these conditions as I have read them to you?”
Hermione stood dumbfounded, mouth agape as the Chief Warlock finsihed reading her sentencing. She wasn’t being imprisoned in Azkaban? A part of her wanted to scream bloody murder. To throw herself against the bars and demand they lock her up for her crimes.
There was an impatient sigh followed by, “Miss Granger, I need a verbal confirmation that you understand the parameters as I have laid them out.”
“Y-yes!” She shouted before slapping a hand over her mouth. Bloody hell, was she going to see Harry and Ron again? She imagined if they were anywhere it would be as Aurors at the Ministry. She pushed back the familiar feeling of bile rising in the back of her throat.
“Your guard will take you up to receive the trace and then you will be given your wand. We require you back in one months time for a wand scanning . Your first day of work begins tomorrow. The Ministry has provided you with an apartment which you will be shown. This is your second chance at life Miss Granger, I suggest you make the best of it. Court dismissed.”