RP: Letting Go
Date: Sunday, July 16, 1998
Characters: Hermione Granger
Location: Grimmauld Place
Status: Private
Summary: Hermione’s research comes to an end
Completion: Complete
The Ancient Runes books had been useless. As had the Potions books and the numerous Charms texts. There were even several volumes of Arithmancy and Herbology amongst the stacks now covering the table and floor around Hermione’s chair in the library. Nothing had given her any answers, not even a possible theory to research. She had been searching since Thursday, with an the occasional appearance at meals and a break on Friday for try outs, and had nothing to show for it.
Research took time, she knew. She had done enough of it to know that she normally couldn’t find an answer to something complex so easily. If she could, then it likely wouldn’t have been considered complex in the first place. But she had hardly left the library since arriving home from her meeting with Flitwick. Yesterday, she had only stopped researching long enough to use the toilet and answer a few owls. She had ended up napping here and there during the night without leaving her chair.
Now, it was Sunday morning and she had more books on the floor and table than were left on the shelves. It was a complete mess, and the part of her that wanted things to be neat and orderly was battling the part that was driving her to not stop until she found something. The latter was winning, so she barely glanced at the chaos around her as she stepped around the stacks to search the bookshelves again.
The coffee that Kreacher had quietly brought her a while ago had been finished, and she was starting to feel the exhaustion weigh down on her. She should take a dose of Pepper Up potion to give her the energy she needed to stay focused. She had slept enough, waking more than once with her book open on her lap and her neck aching from her position. The potion might help, but she wasn’t entirely certain it would really do much when part of her problem was frustration and stress over not being able to fix her parents. Nothing could help that, except a solution.
So, she had to find something. The Black library was extensive, and the idea that there wasn’t anything here to help was just impossible to accept. She had searched index after index, looking for any terms or possibilities, and found nothing, but she refused to accept that Professor Flitwick was right about there not being another way. But the only books left on the shelves were history and Astronomy, Transfiguration and Divination. When she started to reach for one of the latter, she stopped and shook her head. While she was desperate, she knew that there was nothing in any of these remaining books that could help.
“Bloody hell,” she cursed softly, leaning forward to rest her forehead against the shelf. She bit her lip and counted to ten as she thought about everything she had done and tried to figure out what to do next. She could go back through the books she’d already searched. Maybe she had missed something. Her current situation was proof that even the most thorough of research wasn’t always accurate, after all.
She straightened up and ran her hand through her hair before she turned to face the books. As she leaned down to pick up a large volume on Charms, she remembered the books in the little study upstairs. She put the book back down and hurried out of the library towards the stairs. The answer had to be up there. If there was a way to fix her parents, it had to be in a book in this house. The Blacks had too complete a collection to think otherwise. When she reached the study, she stepped inside and shut the door behind her.
It was dark so she conjured a couple of candles and lit them before she walked to the small bookcase. The volumes here were old and dark. She could practically feel the malevolence surrounding them. Curses and charms unlike any even in the Restricted Section. There was a moment of hesitation as she stood there staring at the spines, but she ignored the scolding voice in her head as she reached for a book on charms with a faded cover that bespoke its age.
When she opened it, her hand was shaking and she felt nauseous as she looked at the image on the page she’d opened randomly. It was horrid, worse than anything she’d seen during the war, and she turned away from it with a sob. What was she doing? This was what she had fought against, the use of this kind of magic against people like her, people like her parents.
She closed her eyes and saw her mum’s face, twisted in fear and ready to scream. Ring the police. We have no daughter. Go away, girl. She wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against the nearest wall as she started to cry.
We know you’re worried about that world, Hermione, but we can take care of ourselves. Besides, who would want to harm us? Pass the potatoes please. Her mum hadn’t understood. She’d tried, she’d tried so hard, but they wouldn’t listen. She’d had to do something. Had to protect them, had to protect Harry.
We’re worried about you, poppet. You haven’t left your room since we opened gifts. Come down and see your mum while I finish working? She hadn’t gone downstairs, though. She’d been upset over Ron, over Ron dating Lavender, and she hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone.
Maybe you shouldn’t go back to that school. You’re not learning anything useful. They don’t even teach you maths or literature. How will you go to university? They had argued for days but she was nearly seventeen and they couldn’t keep her from coming back. She didn’t want to go to university, but she’d wanted to go to the Burrow, to be back somewhere that felt comfortable and where she felt like she belonged. They had agreed after she told them bluntly that she would never go to university.
How did the boy die? And your friend Harry was there? Really, Hermione, you need to choose safer friends. We don’t like to hear that you’re running around that world with a boy who seems to attract danger so easily. They didn’t understand that it was her world, more than theirs was anymore. She had written to Ron and been invited to Grimmauld Place by Mrs. Weasley. It had been such an easy choice, to leave her parents for the summer and go somewhere that people understood.
Top marks! Well done, poppet. Your mum and I are very proud of you. You’re doing really well in your world there. The look of pride on their faces had made the stress of using the time turner worth it. Top marks in so many subjects. They had let her have chocolate that day and allowed her to go to their office with them. It had been a rare treat, to be invited there.
We always knew you were special, Hermione. Your father and I didn’t know it was like this, but we always knew there was something different about you. You get it from my side of my family, of course. Her father had grumbled and her mum had laughed, and she had felt special, felt as if she had finally been given a chance to fit somewhere. They had supported her decision to go, even though they hadn’t understood what magic meant, and she could still remember the feel of her mum hugging her, so tight, before she got onto the train at King’s Cross. Her father hadn’t been there because he had a golf match planned, but she’d found a box of chocolate from him hidden in her coat pocket after she boarded the train.
She was sitting on the floor now with her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin resting on her knees. The tears wouldn’t stop as she thought about them, as she remembered so many moments that they no longer knew. That they would never know now because of her. She had made a choice when she was eleven, and she hadn’t known then what would happen. She had foolishly been excited at the idea of this magical world where people would be like her and wouldn’t hate her for being clever or wanting to learn.
Instead, she’d found a world that hated her because of the blood flowing through her veins and students who still resented her for being clever and wanting to learn. That didn’t change. But she had changed. She had met Ron and Harry, and they’d become her best friends, and she’d grown up fast, having to if she wanted to stay alive and get the most out of school that she could. Somewhere along the way, though, she had lost her parents. Pushed them away, to protect them or because they couldn’t understand or because she’d become someone they couldn’t understand.
Now, it was too late. There would never be another hug, another piece of chocolate hidden in her school bag when she boarded the train, another proud smile or teasing poppet from her father. There was only fear and distrust as they looked at her as if she was a stranger. She had made herself a stranger. She could go back and use the charm Flitwick had mentioned, though. She could try to bring them back, to make them know her and remember.
It was so tempting to try. She wanted to get up and wipe her face and go. But she couldn’t. She knew that she would never go back because the risk was too great. She couldn’t do that to them, not after everything else she’d done, what she’d put them through. It hurt, it hurt so much that her chest ached and she felt sick, but she had spent so many years being selfish, thinking only of herself and this world. It had to stop.
It was time to let them go.
Characters: Hermione Granger
Location: Grimmauld Place
Status: Private
Summary: Hermione’s research comes to an end
Completion: Complete
The Ancient Runes books had been useless. As had the Potions books and the numerous Charms texts. There were even several volumes of Arithmancy and Herbology amongst the stacks now covering the table and floor around Hermione’s chair in the library. Nothing had given her any answers, not even a possible theory to research. She had been searching since Thursday, with an the occasional appearance at meals and a break on Friday for try outs, and had nothing to show for it.
Research took time, she knew. She had done enough of it to know that she normally couldn’t find an answer to something complex so easily. If she could, then it likely wouldn’t have been considered complex in the first place. But she had hardly left the library since arriving home from her meeting with Flitwick. Yesterday, she had only stopped researching long enough to use the toilet and answer a few owls. She had ended up napping here and there during the night without leaving her chair.
Now, it was Sunday morning and she had more books on the floor and table than were left on the shelves. It was a complete mess, and the part of her that wanted things to be neat and orderly was battling the part that was driving her to not stop until she found something. The latter was winning, so she barely glanced at the chaos around her as she stepped around the stacks to search the bookshelves again.
The coffee that Kreacher had quietly brought her a while ago had been finished, and she was starting to feel the exhaustion weigh down on her. She should take a dose of Pepper Up potion to give her the energy she needed to stay focused. She had slept enough, waking more than once with her book open on her lap and her neck aching from her position. The potion might help, but she wasn’t entirely certain it would really do much when part of her problem was frustration and stress over not being able to fix her parents. Nothing could help that, except a solution.
So, she had to find something. The Black library was extensive, and the idea that there wasn’t anything here to help was just impossible to accept. She had searched index after index, looking for any terms or possibilities, and found nothing, but she refused to accept that Professor Flitwick was right about there not being another way. But the only books left on the shelves were history and Astronomy, Transfiguration and Divination. When she started to reach for one of the latter, she stopped and shook her head. While she was desperate, she knew that there was nothing in any of these remaining books that could help.
“Bloody hell,” she cursed softly, leaning forward to rest her forehead against the shelf. She bit her lip and counted to ten as she thought about everything she had done and tried to figure out what to do next. She could go back through the books she’d already searched. Maybe she had missed something. Her current situation was proof that even the most thorough of research wasn’t always accurate, after all.
She straightened up and ran her hand through her hair before she turned to face the books. As she leaned down to pick up a large volume on Charms, she remembered the books in the little study upstairs. She put the book back down and hurried out of the library towards the stairs. The answer had to be up there. If there was a way to fix her parents, it had to be in a book in this house. The Blacks had too complete a collection to think otherwise. When she reached the study, she stepped inside and shut the door behind her.
It was dark so she conjured a couple of candles and lit them before she walked to the small bookcase. The volumes here were old and dark. She could practically feel the malevolence surrounding them. Curses and charms unlike any even in the Restricted Section. There was a moment of hesitation as she stood there staring at the spines, but she ignored the scolding voice in her head as she reached for a book on charms with a faded cover that bespoke its age.
When she opened it, her hand was shaking and she felt nauseous as she looked at the image on the page she’d opened randomly. It was horrid, worse than anything she’d seen during the war, and she turned away from it with a sob. What was she doing? This was what she had fought against, the use of this kind of magic against people like her, people like her parents.
She closed her eyes and saw her mum’s face, twisted in fear and ready to scream. Ring the police. We have no daughter. Go away, girl. She wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against the nearest wall as she started to cry.
We know you’re worried about that world, Hermione, but we can take care of ourselves. Besides, who would want to harm us? Pass the potatoes please. Her mum hadn’t understood. She’d tried, she’d tried so hard, but they wouldn’t listen. She’d had to do something. Had to protect them, had to protect Harry.
We’re worried about you, poppet. You haven’t left your room since we opened gifts. Come down and see your mum while I finish working? She hadn’t gone downstairs, though. She’d been upset over Ron, over Ron dating Lavender, and she hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone.
Maybe you shouldn’t go back to that school. You’re not learning anything useful. They don’t even teach you maths or literature. How will you go to university? They had argued for days but she was nearly seventeen and they couldn’t keep her from coming back. She didn’t want to go to university, but she’d wanted to go to the Burrow, to be back somewhere that felt comfortable and where she felt like she belonged. They had agreed after she told them bluntly that she would never go to university.
How did the boy die? And your friend Harry was there? Really, Hermione, you need to choose safer friends. We don’t like to hear that you’re running around that world with a boy who seems to attract danger so easily. They didn’t understand that it was her world, more than theirs was anymore. She had written to Ron and been invited to Grimmauld Place by Mrs. Weasley. It had been such an easy choice, to leave her parents for the summer and go somewhere that people understood.
Top marks! Well done, poppet. Your mum and I are very proud of you. You’re doing really well in your world there. The look of pride on their faces had made the stress of using the time turner worth it. Top marks in so many subjects. They had let her have chocolate that day and allowed her to go to their office with them. It had been a rare treat, to be invited there.
We always knew you were special, Hermione. Your father and I didn’t know it was like this, but we always knew there was something different about you. You get it from my side of my family, of course. Her father had grumbled and her mum had laughed, and she had felt special, felt as if she had finally been given a chance to fit somewhere. They had supported her decision to go, even though they hadn’t understood what magic meant, and she could still remember the feel of her mum hugging her, so tight, before she got onto the train at King’s Cross. Her father hadn’t been there because he had a golf match planned, but she’d found a box of chocolate from him hidden in her coat pocket after she boarded the train.
She was sitting on the floor now with her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin resting on her knees. The tears wouldn’t stop as she thought about them, as she remembered so many moments that they no longer knew. That they would never know now because of her. She had made a choice when she was eleven, and she hadn’t known then what would happen. She had foolishly been excited at the idea of this magical world where people would be like her and wouldn’t hate her for being clever or wanting to learn.
Instead, she’d found a world that hated her because of the blood flowing through her veins and students who still resented her for being clever and wanting to learn. That didn’t change. But she had changed. She had met Ron and Harry, and they’d become her best friends, and she’d grown up fast, having to if she wanted to stay alive and get the most out of school that she could. Somewhere along the way, though, she had lost her parents. Pushed them away, to protect them or because they couldn’t understand or because she’d become someone they couldn’t understand.
Now, it was too late. There would never be another hug, another piece of chocolate hidden in her school bag when she boarded the train, another proud smile or teasing poppet from her father. There was only fear and distrust as they looked at her as if she was a stranger. She had made herself a stranger. She could go back and use the charm Flitwick had mentioned, though. She could try to bring them back, to make them know her and remember.
It was so tempting to try. She wanted to get up and wipe her face and go. But she couldn’t. She knew that she would never go back because the risk was too great. She couldn’t do that to them, not after everything else she’d done, what she’d put them through. It hurt, it hurt so much that her chest ached and she felt sick, but she had spent so many years being selfish, thinking only of herself and this world. It had to stop.
It was time to let them go.