The Search
What was done was done. There was no taking anything back now. Snape, who once was the professor of many was now the killer of one, not just anyone but the greatest man most have ever known in their lifetime. The castle that was once a place of learning and magic now held a lingering sense of sorrow and betrayal.
It had been a month since Dumbledore had died, no, been killed. He didn’t die on his own from an illness or an old age. He was old, there was no doubt of that, but he was more youthful than most youngsters Harry knew. Harry could see the joy in his eyes whenever he saw the flowers bloom on the first day of spring. He would act silly and even like a child sometimes while trying out some new candies, and it never failed to bring a smile to his face. He was amazed by how this old, wise man could get excited by little things while he found it to be the most difficult task sometimes. Because they really were silly, and he couldn’t just understand him… Probably no one ever did.
Harry often found himself reflecting on Dumbledore's unique blend of wisdom and childlike wonder. The contrast between his age and his vibrant spirit intrigued everyone around him. As the days turned into weeks, the absence of Dumbledore's presence became increasingly apparent, leaving a void that couldn't be filled. It was a reminder that even the greatest individuals were not invincible, and their impact lingered long after they were gone.
But if there was one thing that Harry was sure of that Dumbledore didn’t deserve to be betrayed, even if it was someone Harry would think of as the first person to do so. He never could fully grasp how he and Snape could be colleagues and even friends at some point. How someone like Dumbledore could befriend a man like Snape? It was almost the same as one of the trio befriending Malfoy, something that wouldn’t make sense at all.
Malfoy…
Harry was there hiding beneath their feet when Malfoy faced and spoke to Dumbledore before the others joined them. He wasn’t surprised when he saw him pointing his wand at the professor, that’s what he had been trying to tell everyone for months. Once again, he wasn’t surprised when he saw a glimpse of his Dark Mark while he was threatening Dumbledore, but it still felt uncomfortable. He didn’t know the origin of his disappointment but he hoped that the mean little boy from his childhood wouldn’t turn up to be one of the bad ones.
But he wasn’t just one of them…he was a trusted member of Voldemort’s troops and that HAD to require something big. Harry couldn't help but wonder how Draco had become entangled in such a dark world. The memories of their shared past flooded his mind—the insults, the confrontations, the years of Draco aligning himself with pure-blood ideals.
Even so, he couldn’t lie to himself. Not after what he saw. Because Draco didn’t look like he wanted to kill Dumbledore. There was a flicker of doubt in his eyes, a trace of fear and hesitation that betrayed his cold demeanour. At that moment, Harry realized that Draco's involvement might not be as clear-cut as it seemed. For a split second, Harry saw the little boy who was afraid to step into the Dark Forest with him and wanted to grab him by his collars and shake him enough. Enough to bring some sense into him.
He told Ron and Hermione what he actually saw at the tower a few days after Snape killed him. After all the mourning was over, Harry found a quiet moment to gather his friends and share the truth that he had been keeping to himself.
Sitting together in the Gryffindor common room, the atmosphere was heavy with sadness and the remnants of their recent loss. Harry took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before he began to recount the events that unfolded on that fateful night.
"I need to tell you both what I saw," Harry started, his voice filled with determination. "When I reached the tower, Draco was there, pointing his wand at Dumbledore. But from the very first second, something felt different,”
“What do you mean?” Ron took a look at Hermione for an answer but she was determined to hear the next words coming out of Harry’s mouth, not even noticing that Ron was waiting for her to say something.
“I don’t think he was ever going to do it, no matter how scared he was,” Harry continued, his voice steady as he unraveled the thoughts that had consumed him since that night on the tower.
“But he attacked Dumbledore?” Hermione spoke. “Doesn’t it still make him our enemy?”
Harry couldn’t help but stare at her for a second, surprised by her response. He had expected her, of all people, to understand the complexities of the situation. Yet, her immediate classification of Draco as an enemy caught him off guard.
But then, he saw the same flickering in her eyes as he did with Draco and understood everything. He knew her well enough to easily notice that her question stemmed from a place of caution and the need to protect her loved ones. Her question was not born out of a simple desire to label Draco as an enemy like most people did, but rather a reflection of the pain and betrayal she felt.
“Hermione…” he started, not really sure what to say.
Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he spoke gently. “I know you trusted him, hoped for him not to turn bad but we all knew who he was. I’m sorry for saying this but he was never going to be someone you wanted him to be.”
Something in her eyes shifted, and he could sense the weight of her emotions.
“I know you believed he could be better,” he spoke carefully, understanding the depth of her hopes and the disappointment she must be feeling. “But you can’t change someone’s character just by being their friend or their duel partner or their rival.”
She stared at him and he could see the offensive way of her expression change, as if his words struck a nerve. It didn’t take long for her to first close her eyes and then nod her head.
“I know, Harry. Of course, I wasn’t expecting him to change the values he had been taught for more than 10 years. I thought I saw a potential for growth, that’s all. Now I know that he’s never going to be someone I can trust again.”
They all went silent for a while, although it seemed like Ron wanted to break it. “Why would you even trust him in the first place?”
Harry looked like he was about to say something when Hermione, her voice mixed with frustration and vulnerability she didn’t even bother to hide, interjected.
“I don’t need to explain myself… it doesn’t matter anymore.”
The boys shared a look of concern, they both were aware that it mattered to her but were still struggling to understand how could she feel so disappointed in someone who wasn’t even her friend. Someone who always made fun of the way she talked, walked, laughed, or even her excellent magical skills. He wasn’t nice to her. They would duel together every week and she would return annoyed, mad, or even injured sometimes. They noticed it all even though she didn’t tell them much about it. But something had changed too, Harry realized, she wasn’t dragging her feet to patrol with him, she even looked eager that one time. Harry didn’t think too much of it, and Ron was busy with all the dates with Lavender and probably didn’t notice how she would make time, or how the opportunity would find its way to leave the two alone.
Harry’s mind began to piece together the fragments of their past, recalling the instances where Hermione had faced anything remotely ridiculing or angering. Suddenly, it all started to make sense—the subtle changes in her demeanor, her growing reluctance to confide in them about anything related to Draco Malfoy. She would tell them only the things they wanted to hear. He once suspected there could be something, a hidden friendship or maybe even something even more between them no matter how ridiculous it may sound to him.
The day he saw the two at the Map, at the Astronomy Tower, he was feeling all sorts of things: confusion, worry, panic, having the urge to go there and save her from him, but almost instantly noticed she wasn’t walking away, just standing uncomfortably close to him. A mixture of guilt and concern washed over him as he realized how oblivious he had been. Or rather he chose to be.
And with that realization, he suddenly felt unable to do anything. He was supposed to find all the Horcruxes and Ron and Hermione insisted on joining him, and he could only hope that she wouldn’t cross paths with Draco. He wasn’t sure how she would react or what would they say to each other. Maybe she would forget everything while searching for the Horcruxes or do something unexpected and plan an act of revenge on Draco. No, that was something he would do, not Hermione.
“Hermione?”
She looked at Harry with a blank expression, and he already felt uneasy since she would always look curious when he called her name.
“I know you spent more time with him…”
She drew her eyebrows together. “I guess you could say that.”
“I’m wondering if…”
“If what?”
Why did she have to make things harder? “You know if he, I don’t know, was different to you somehow?”
“How would he be different, Harry? I don’t understand.”
“I don’t know, it’s just, I don’t understand how you didn’t see the signs-“
“How I didn’t see the signs?” Her voice was bitter and mad. “Is it my fault now?”
“No…”
“Was I supposed to be spying on him like you did?”
“That would’ve been helpful.”
Harry immediately regretted saying that but it was too late.
“I didn’t want to say it like that, it’s just…”
Hermione inhaled before ending the conversation. “It would’ve been avoidable, that’s what you wanted to say, right? It wouldn’t, Harry. It doesn’t matter if I spied on him enough, or tried to change his mind somehow, you can’t undo what’s already done. And what’s done to him, Merlin knows what training they even did, was not something I or anyone else could reverse. He wanted to be the one, okay? The one to get all the praise, the one to make someone proud, the son that his father would be proud of. That’s all he is and what he had always been. No one can change something like that. Stop thinking more of someone who does not actually matter and focus on the task ahead because I’m more worried about ending Voldemort than thinking about what could’ve been if one coward didn’t think of himself for once.”
Neither of them ever mentioned his name again, not at the school, not at the Burrow, not even when they were searching for the Horcruxes. She didn’t question why, but was happy with it, finding solace in the silence that surrounded that name. It was almost laughable how she treated his name like other people would do with Voldemort. Ron and Harry’s unspoken agreement not to mention his name turned out to be surprisingly comforting and helped them focus on their mission without unnecessary distractions. And it proved to be working.
They went on to find the remaining Horcruxes. It helped them to know that Voldemort was shockingly sentimental, or prideful, enough to put pieces of his soul into meaningful objects such as his diary or an heirloom ring. While it was surprising to discover the locations of the Horcruxes, understanding the significance of the objects played a crucial role in their quest. By recognizing the emotional attachments behind each Horcrux, they gained valuable insights into Voldemort’s twisted psyche, enabling them to anticipate his moves and devise strategic plans to destroy the Horcruxes effectively.
They did not, however, expect Dolores Umbridge to be wearing the locket so proudly at the Ministry or whatever it was now. The warning sound was still fresh in their minds, echoing in their ears.
“The ministry has fallen.”
It was still as terrifying as it was back then. And now the same ministry was filled with Voldemort’s followers, which made things more difficult than they were already.
The daring act of stealing the locket from Umbridge was a tense and nerve-wracking experience for them all. Sneaking through the heavily guarded Ministry filled with Voldemort’s followers required both cunning and bravery. As they escaped, they couldn’t help but feel the gravity of the situation - the danger they were in and the tremendous weight of their mission to destroy the Horcruxes.
The locket, an object infused with a piece of Voldemort’s soul, was an important step in their journey to weaken him. Even amidst the challenges and uncertainties, their determination and loyalty to their cause strengthened the trio’s bond, pushing them to endure and carry on with their noble quest to vanquish the Dark Lord.
However, not long after their win, they realized it was weakening them, too. They would act out of character at times, experiencing unexplained outbreaks of anger and aggression. They knew they had to find a way to remove the locket’s influence before it consumed them entirely. They tried all the spells, all the things they learned in and out of school, but the dark magic inside the locket was so strong that it was impossible to even scratch the surface of it. While Hermione was obsessing over the book Dumbledore had left for her, she failed to see the tension between her friends. That’s what broke them, the locket and its curse.
It even reached to a point of chasing Ron away from them, causing him to say things he didn’t mean to and start a fight with his best friend. It hurt. So much. She didn’t realize how much she needed Ron in his life up until that point. How much she needed them all to be together. And how much she was willing to do anything to keep all her loved ones together.
“He’ll be back,” Harry said one day.
And the day after.
And the day after that.
He slowly lost his faith in those words and began to give her a half-hearted smile instead. The anticipation in Harry’s eyes began to wane, replaced by a mixture of guilt and resignation. She was sure he was not even mad at Ron anymore, they just needed him back.
But… they still had each other.
Their bond grew deeper as they leaned on each other for support and comfort during this difficult time, searching for answers while trying not to remind themselves they were still teenagers who didn’t know how much trouble they were in. The absence of Ron had created a void, but it also forged a deeper connection between Harry and Hermione. He was her rock. He was the anchor that kept her grounded and provided a sense of reliability. He could make her laugh, but would also give her the time she needed for herself. Whether it be lying in bed, staring at the stars, or searching for a clue for the next Horcrux. She almost forgot how long they had been away from everyone. Her family above all. The ache of missing them grew stronger as time passed, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they could ever be reunited and if they could regain the memories that had been tampered with.
The absence of her friends and professors added to the weight of Hermione’s heart. The faces of those who had been a significant part of her life felt distant and almost dreamlike as they continued on their quest. She yearned for the comfort, guidance, and familiarity they provided. The memories of their shared laughters, late-night discussions, and the dinner at the Hogwarts table were still vivid enough in her mind to give her the motivation to continue.
“We have to move somewhere else, Harry.”
“Again?”
“We stayed here for too long,” she shared the sentiment but they had to keep moving and researching. If her theory was right, she knew what could destroy the Horcruxes.
In the meantime, they had found themselves physically face to face with Voldemort’s snake which was in the form of an old lady and the panic it gave her when it attacked them caused her to point her wand at the snake and the next second, there were hot flames of fire illuminating the air as spells erupted from Hermione’s wand. The urgency of the situation fueled her instincts, and she held onto Harry’s hand and apparated them both to safety. The heat of the roaring fire and the lingering echoes of the snake’s hisses seemed to follow them even as they escaped. As they materialized in a new location, Hermione’s heart still raced from the adrenaline of the confrontation. The rush of emotions, from fear to courage, left an indelible mark on her, reminding her of the strength she could summon in the face of danger.
“What did you just do??” Harry asked as he adjusted his glasses with trembling hands.
Hermione’s chest rose and fell with labored breaths as she looked at Harry, her eyes still filled with the remnants of the intense magic she had just wielded. “I… I cast a fire spell and apparated us out of there,” she explained, her voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and determination.
“Hermione?” He called, his voice breaking a little at the end.
“I think my wand got broken.”
“What?” Confusion filled her voice as she spoke.
Her eyes then trailed down to the wooden two-piece wand he held, realization dawning upon her. “Oh, Harry, I’m… I’m so sorry.”
“Accidents happen,” Harry replied gently, his voice carrying a hint of sadness. He looked down at the broken wand, his expression a mix of disappointment and resignation. “It’s been through a lot already.”
She reached out, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she said softly, her remorse evident. “Is there anything we can do?”
“I don’t know, is it even possible?”
Harry’s gaze remained fixed on the broken wand, fingers tracing the fractured wood.
“I’m not sure,” she admitted, a note of guilt in her voice. “But we can’t just give up without trying,” she continued, her eyes focused on the broken wand. “There might be someone out there who knows how to repair it.”
Harry’s shoulders sagged, the weight of the situation evident in his posture. “I’ll just keep it somewhere safe for now, and in the meantime, I might have to use yours, Hermione.”
“Of course, Harry, you can use mine as long as you need to,” she offered him a small smile, feeling like the worst person in the world at the moment.
The most important thing to a witch or wizard was their wand. They knew that a wand wasn’t just a tool; it was a reflection of their magical journey and potential. The wood, the core, the length – all these elements were carefully considered and combined to create a wand that resonated with its owner on a profound level.
Wizards and witches spent years refining their skills, forging a partnership with their wand that went beyond mere functionality. It was a relationship built on trust, intuition, and understanding. A skilled spellcaster could sense the nuances of their wand’s response, almost as if it were a silent partner on their side.
The bond between a wizard or witch and their wand was often unbreakable. Losing or damaging a wand was similar to losing a part of oneself. Yet, these magical beings were also resourceful and capable of adapting to unexpected changes.
For some, the challenge of having to use another’s wand was a reminder of their reliance on their unique connection. It highlighted the intimacy of the partnership they had with their own wand, a bond that couldn’t easily be replicated. And while borrowing Hermione’s wand might be a temporary solution, it could never mirror Harry’s wand’s responsiveness to his magic, or understand him fully. Each wand had its own owner and would not readily submit to anyone else’s control unless they earned its loyalty. But this was all he had right now.
And he refused to give up. Practicing days on end to understand this new companion. Every flick and every incantation became an opportunity for Harry to establish a connection with Hermione’s wand. He paid meticulous attention to the way it responded to his intentions, the subtle shifts in its energy as he cast spells. It was a challenging process, filled with frustration and a sense of unfamiliarity, yet he was determined in his pursuit.
Hermione stood by his side, offering guidance and encouragement. She watched as he tirelessly honed his skills, his determination inspiring her own. Together, they delved into the nuances of wand magic, exploring the ways Harry could adapt to this new tool while remaining true to his magical essence.
Yet, whenever Hermione cast the same spells he did, the wand responded in a way that felt foreign to Harry. There was an inexplicable dissonance between his magic and the wand’s reactions. It was a constant reminder that no matter how hard he tried, this borrowed wand was not the faithful companion he had known for so long.
Harry’s frustration sometimes got the better of him, leading to moments of doubt. He would glance at his old wand, safely stored away, and a pang of longing would hit him. He missed the effortless connection they once shared, the instinctive understanding that seemed impossible to replicate.
-
They continuously changed their locations, and she persistently sought a method to discover the whereabouts of all the horcruxes. Yet, occasionally, her thoughts would drift back to memories from Hogwarts.
Her friends remained a constant in her thoughts, but an enigmatic force drew her thoughts towards Draco. His name alone seemed to possess an irresistible pull, diverting her attention from all else.
None of them spoke his name after their last conversation, but as time went on, the unspoken prohibition transformed Draco’s name into a forbidden fruit within her mind. Each time her thoughts gravitated toward him, a sense of secrecy and taboo surrounded her contemplations, intensifying the allure of her memories.
The more she refrained from speaking his name aloud, the more she found herself dwelling on it in private. It was as though her mind had created a hidden space where she could explore her conflicted feelings without the scrutiny of her friends. The forbidden nature of her thoughts only served to deepen her internal struggle, making it all the more pressing for her to untangle the web of emotions surrounding Draco.
Amid thoughts of laughter shared with friends and memories of adventures together, there was Draco, an enigma she couldn’t decipher. His image, his voice, and the moments they had spent intertwined in her mind, eclipsing all else.
One of those rare nights, she found Draco Malfoy occupying her dreams. She was showing him how to cast his first Patronus. In the dream, she guided him through the intricate steps, helping him focus on his happiest memories. His Patronus slowly took shape—a graceful and powerful creature— a peacock.
The creature suddenly turned its head. “Hermione?” Draco’s voice echoed.
Startled, she watched as the Patronus, now fully formed, moved closer to her. Its eyes locked onto hers. The air was charged with an inexplicable energy, a moment suspended in time where unspoken emotions hung heavy. It was as if the dream had taken on a life of its own, blurring the lines between reality and imagination.
“Hermione…”
It was him, almost, but not quite. The voice carried a vulnerability and uncertainty that Draco rarely showed in real life.
It called her name once again, and she opened her eyes to find herself in her own bed, the remnants of the dream still clinging to her senses. The echo of Draco’s voice lingered, leaving her with a mix of emotions that she couldn’t shake off. The dream had felt so real, as if they had connected in a way that transcended the boundaries of reality.
She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to shake off the residual feelings from the dream. The room around her slowly began to feel smaller, and she wrapped a cardigan around herself before stepping outside. The cool air brushed against her skin, a gentle contrast to the warmth of the dream’s lingering emotions.
She walked to the nearest tree, leaned against it, and then sat down, her head hung down. The sound of the rustling leaves eased her mind and slowed her heartbeat, although it didn’t last long. Because the next second a familiar sound interrupted her thoughts, jolting her back into the present moment.
"Hermione?" It said.
His voice shattered her reverie, and her head snapped up in surprise. Before her stood a magnificent peacock, its iridescent feathers shimmering in the soft moonlight. Its eyes held an uncanny familiarity, and as it spoke again, the timbre of the voice resonated with a haunting similarity to the one in her dream.
“Hermione, where are you?”