Back to Life

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Chapter One


Hermione had left England. She had left the whole of Europe, really, if one wanted to be technical. One day they had won the war and the next she was gone. Ron Weasley had been shocked by this even as Harry wasn’t. If the Wizard that Lived had a choice, he would have gone as well. But as it was, she left a letter, explaining how she had to do some work and as such, didn’t want to pull them into it as it may not be ethical.


“What does she mean, work?” Ron asked Harry after they had read the letter after what felt like the hundredth time. “Voldemort is dead!”


“If she says she has work, let her to it,” Harry told him. “Hermione has her reasons.”


***


Hermione lit the torches in the cave and watched as the medicine woman’s silvery transparent image was sitting in the middle of the dome like rock cavern. She took a deep fortifying breath, as she went over to the edge of the ravine where the woman’s image was floating above.


“I need advice!”


The woman’s eyes opened, looking at her. After a moment of studying, she spoke, “Usually people come to me asking for more than advice, girl.”


“I know! But I want nothing more than wisdom and the patience to know when to use it,” she told her.


The witch snorted. “Wisdom is a powerful tool! It is not a small thing you ask for!”


“I know,” she breathed, feeling not for the first time the desperation clawing at her gut. “Wisdom is power, but power isn’t necessarily wisdom. Especially if the welder isn’t prudent in the using of said power.”


“You are an odd one,” she heard from next to her.


Hermione spun around to see a tiny woman standing next to her. Her old face cracked into a myriad of wrinkles the moment she smiled a toothless grin, making the younger witch feel far more at ease.


“Did you bring tea? I do so love a spot of it.”


“I brought along a lovely earl grey,” she answered. “Along with some small puddings with cream.”


“Mm, let’s have at it then, girl, and then you can tell me what brings you here.”


Hermione set out a small table and chairs nearer the wall of the cave a foot or two away from the nearest torch. Hermione served quickly and quietly, using her magic to do so. Within minutes, the woman was sitting in front of her and was sipping on her tea contentedly.


“You are a western witch,” the woman said casually. “I do not see your like often in my parts.” She snorted. “Such arrogance!”


“I apologize for that,” Hermione told her. “Even for as long as our magical society has been around, we still are much like children.” Hermione rolled her eyes, thinking about the likes of Fudge and Umbridge. “We think we know it all, when that is far from the case.” Hermione took a sip of her tea. “Pardon me for asking, but is there something I can call you without having to say all fifty of your full names?”


The old woman laughed quietly. “Most just call me Gaya, child.”


“Thank you,” she murmured. “I’m Hermione Granger.”


The old woman’s brows arched at the introduction. “I’ve heard of you.” She nodded. “Yes. I have heard much of you. Said to be the smartest witch of her age.”


Hermione was barely able to hold back the snort and this was rewarded with another burst of laughter from the old woman.


“Yes, you are a smart one, aren’t you?” she asked quietly, studying her more intently this time. “What would you like to know?”


Taking a deep breath, she told Gaya everything that had happened to date. When she finished, the old woman looked sad at the young witch's words.


“And you come to me why?” she asked quietly once Hermione finished.


“I came across a spell,” she murmured. “A spell that will bring people back from the dead. There are stipulations of course, but my question to you is should I?”


Gaya’s eyes widened a bit. “And you came here for permission to use it?”


Hermione nodded. “This magic is strong, stronger than I have ever come across. I am not going to play at being a deity nor am I silly enough to try, but so many died before their time…”


“Who is to say that it was or wasn’t their time?” Gaya asked.


“I don’t know,” she breathed. “Grief is a horrid thing that eats at my ability to think logically. So many died, Gaya…” Tears dripped down Hermione’s face absently. “I want to do right, but I don’t know what that is in this case.”


“Your heart is wounded, child,” Gaya told her, taking her hand into her own. “I can see it clearly in your eyes.” She patted the girl’s wrist kindly. “Hermione, you are a good person. I can tell you want what is right.” The ageless witch watched her for a time. “This spell that you found, was it mine by any chance?”


The young witch nodded.


The old woman stood up and went over to Hermione, kissing her forehead. “Then I give you my blessing to perform it and wish you well.”


“Where should I go to do it?” she asked.


“Go back to your home country to the place your war ended. There among your dead, perform the spell. Those who are meant to come back will.”


Hermione smiled, kissing the older woman’s cheek with a quiet thank you. The older woman watched her with a smile before vanishing.


***


She arrived back in Scotland just in time for the memorial services. Hermione kept to herself during the whole of the ceremony. She joined Harry after it had finished.


“What was so important that you missed the funerals?” Ginny hissed at her just as she was pulling away from a hug she was giving to Ron.


“I don’t owe you any explanations, Ginny,” she told her coolly. “I’ll speak to your mother and father. They, unlike you, deserve to be told and apologized to.”


The younger witch gapped at her even as Harry said, “You needn’t be so harsh, Hermione.”


Fed up with Ginny’s hold on Harry, Hermione said in a tired voice, “You defeated a dark lord, Harry. Get a back bone already.”


Hermione listened to Ginny screeching at her even as Harry was telling the youngest Weasley to hush up. She found Mr. and Mrs. Weasley soon there after, murmuring her apologies to them.


“I went to get my parents from Australia,” she told them.


“Oh! That’s understandable, dear,” Mrs. Weasley whispered. “Are they here?”


Hermione was barely able to hold back her tears as she said, “The Death Eaters found them first. They were killed a week before the Battle of Hogwarts. I had to bury them in Australia.”


Mrs. Weasley gasped. “Oh no! You should have told us.”


“It was all happening so quickly,” she told her, looking over to Mr. Weasley who sighed heavily as he nodded in understanding. “I-I needed to get them back…but it was too late. I took time to be alone then. Only a couple of days, but it was necessary.”


Mrs. Weasley took her into her arms, hugging her. “I know, love.” Kissing her forehead. “If you need anything, please let us know.”


Hermione sighed and was in the middle of walking away when George standing alone caught her attention. She went over to him. Without saying anything, she simply stood there looking around to the people coming and going.


“What am I going to do now?” he asked her.


“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I’m trying to figure that out as well.”


He looked over to her. “What happened to you?” He lifted her head so he could look at her face. “You’ve been crying?”


She nodded. “My parents…the Death Eaters found them. They were…they were killed...” She couldn’t get it all out about the how. “And they never knew why.” Hermione swallowed thickly. "They didn't even know I existed."


He took her into his arms and rocked her. “What a sorry pair, we are.”


“And to make things worse, I told Ginny and Harry…” By the time she was finished telling him, George was laughing hard enough to draw looks from the others there.


“Leave it to you,” George told her with a smile. “But you were right, Ginny has been a royal pain in the ass lately. Very pushy, thinking she is the leading lady of the Magical world!”


“Yes, with the way she was carrying on you would think so,” Hermione muttered. “It could have been worse. I didn’t even tell her he doesn’t want to get married and least of all to her.”


George’s eyes went wide even as Ginny’s scream of, “What?” had every person at the gathering going dead silent.


Hermione turned to see Ginny, who looked ready to breathe fire. Harry was watching her with large eyes.


“Take it back,” Ginny demanded.


“Why? It’s the truth,” Hermione told her.


“You’re just jealous!”


“Of what?” Hermione snapped. “Of a petty, nonsensical, self delusional little girl?” Ginny was now a bright red. “And as far as Harry’s concerned, at least we know where we stand with each other. He may not be all that happy with me at the moment, but I’m not trying to railroad him into something he doesn’t want and or need at this time in his life. Namely marriage to a harpy like you, who is more concerned with hooking onto the stardom and gravy train known as Harry Potter.” Hermione got into Ginny’s face. “Would you like me to go on or do you think you’ve had more than enough considering Rita Skitter who is amongst the multitude watching us and is taking down everything I’ve been saying? If I have my way, I will be getting her to grill you ten ways from Saturday.”


That was when Ginny spun around and saw that everyone there was staring at her. Turning a beet red, Ginny went running away. Sighing heavily Hermione walked over to the bar.


“How could you?” Harry whispered.


“Harry,” she murmured. “I love you. There’s no way I would do anything to hurt you. It was a spell. Walk five feet away from me. You’ll see.”


Harry did as she said and discovered that there was a shell around where Hermione was sitting. It kept the sound in and from the looks of it kept the people she wanted away from her. He went back over to Hermione.


“Why?”


She looked to him. “She just pushed me too far this time.” She stood up straight. “See you guys later. I…” she took a deep breath. “I have a house to pack up.”


***

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