A Ray of Light in the Sea of Darkness

Hermione gasped at the sight. She recognized that the sick man dying in bed was indeed former Hogwarts Headmaster Professor Dumbledore. She couldn't bear to look at the wan, gaunt, waxy face covered in a straggly beard that was falling out in patches, and the vacant, pale gray eyes that stared at nothing. She instead imagined the Dumbledore she knew from her days at Hogwarts; she saw the tall, noble man with the long, shimmering hair and beard and twinkling blue eyes. To see Dumbledore in such a terrible state deeply disturbed Hermione. Her head was spinning with wild emotion as she silently shut the door. She hurried back to Luna and Ginny, thoughts and memories whirring about her brain at top speed.

One particular scene kept reappearing in her mind during the short walk into the next room: It was Hermione's third year at Hogwarts; she was fourteen. She saw Dumbledore's face, plain as day. "Three turns should do it," he had said. "Three turns should do it."

Hermione reached the classroom Luna and Ginny were in and flung open the door. The last thing she saw was Ginny leaping from her position in an armchair and rushing towards her, before Hermione fell to the floor in a dead faint.

She came to moments later, with Ginny standing above her and pointing the illuminated end of a wand in her eye. "What happened?" Ginny asked.

Hermione sat up and took a swallow of scotch. "Dumbledore," she said. "He's sick. Dying. He's in a bed over there. All alone." Ginny helped her over to a chair and sat down on a desk opposite her. She looked concerned.

"Are you sure?" asked Ginny. "I mean I knew he retired seven years ago and McGonagall took over, but I didn't know he was sick."

"It's true," said a small voice coming from the other armchair. Ginny and Hermione started. "Luna?" Hermione gasped. Luna sat low in the oversized chair. She stared into space as she clutched her glass with her skeletal fingers. The diamond glistened in the afternoon sunlight that shone through the window. "It's true," she repeated, dreamily. "It was in the Quibbler ages ago."

"Really?" asked Hermione. "What does he have? How long as he been like this?"

Luna took a deep, rattling breath. "He hasn't really been well for a long time. Not since," she broke off and Hermione knew what Luna's next words would be, "Harry died." Luna could not continue. She tried to open her mouth to speak, but her large eyes filled with tears. Her glass dropped to the ground and shattered, spilling liquid on the faded carpet. She brought up her hands and yanked hard on the hair hanging limply about her face as she moaned in pain and sorrow. Hermione stood up and started pacing the room frantically, trying to find an escape, a salvation, but she could not. Only Ginny remained calm.

"It's all right, Luna," she said. The soothing manner of her voice seemed to have a sort of healing power over Luna, who was now whimpering and sniffling, her hands caught in her tangled hair. "Come on, Luna. Let's go get something to eat. You look starved."

Luna nodded and wiped her eyes. "I'm so glad you're my friend, Ginny. If I didn't have you I don't know how I'd -" She gasped for breath and, within a second, regained her composure. "Yeah, let's go get something to eat."

Hermione, who had finished the last of the scotch, said, "I agree. We can...talk to people. It can...get our mind off...some stuff."

Ginny nodded. "Let's go," she said. The three girls walked together out of the classroom, down the corridor, and into the Great Hall. Once again, Hermione noted, they were greeted with silence.

The Great Hall was large and dark. It was not set up with four House tables and the High Table, but rather there were several smaller tables scattered about the room. Hermione noticed Fred and George Weasley who were sitting at a table, conversing quietly with their wives Parvati and Padma. How cute it is, thought Hermione, that twins should marry twins. The whole lineup of the Gryffindor Quidditch team from third year was sitting there as well... minus one, of course. "Hello Hermione," Fred said softly.

"Hey everyone. It's very nice to see you all." Parvati sniffled and smiled at Hermione.

"It's been a long time, Hermione," Padma said.

George nodded in the direction of another table where Ron sat with several other former Gryffindors. Hermione nodded back and made her way towards Ron's table.

"Oy," shouted a voice from the other end of the room. Hermione, Ginny, and Luna all turned to look. It was Michael Corner. "Ginny! Luna!" he yelled. "I have seats at my table!"

Ginny looked at Hermione. "You go on ahead," Hermione said. "I'll sit with Ron." Ginny smiled gratefully at Hermione and took Luna's hand. Hermione whispered, "Will she be all right?"

Ginny looked at Luna who was staring at her fingernails. "Oh yes," said Ginny. "As soon as we start talking about other things, she'll be back to her old self."

Hermione remembered Luna's old self perfectly. She never was exactly normal. She was always staring into space, speaking at the most unusual times, making up tall tales and believing them. Hermione was very worried about Luna. She had never seen a person so utterly distraught as the fragile being Ginny now half-carried across the Great Hall. Hermione's eyes got misty as she remembered the Luna she used to know, and regretted ever abandoning her friends in the first place.

She sniffled once, and before she knew it, she was sobbing. Her shoulders shook with the sorrow she was feeling and tears streamed out of her eyes and down her face. She didn't bother to wipe them away; she just stood in the middle of the Great Hall, hands at her sides, noiselessly crying her eyes out. Finally, someone noticed what she was doing and got up to console her.

"It's all right, 'Mione," said Ron. He put his large, masculine arm around her thin body. "Calm down," he whispered. "I know how it feels to lose a best friend like that. I don't know that this memorial service was such a great idea. It's bringing out the worst in everybody."

Hermione turned to face Ron, and, still crying, buried her face in his robes.

"Come on, Hermione. Let's go sit down." Hermione nodded and dabbed at her face with a handkerchief she had found inside her pocket. She allowed Ron to lead her over to the table.

Hermione sat down between Ron and Dean Thomas. Seamus Finnegan, and Lavender Brown were there as well. "Have some food, Hermione," said Lavender.

"Thank you." Hermione helped herself to some mashed potatoes and roast lamb, and began to eat hungrily. "Excuse me," she said, "but I haven't eaten all day."

"It's all right," said Ron. "Could I get you a drink?"

Hermione nodded, and, looking around the table too see what everyone else had, replied, "Scotch, please."

"Good choice," said Dean, who was drinking the very same thing. "So, I haven't seen you in a long time. Where have you been?"

"Here," said Hermione, "in Britain. I have a house just outside of Wales."

"I bet it's nice."

Hermione thought of her large, luxurious home with the tennis court and the pool. Then she remembered Ron Weasley's old home from when he lived with his parents, the Burrow. She remembered its tiny rooms with dormers sticking out everywhere and walls held up by magic. "It's all right," she said. "Where do you live?"

"In London," said Dean. "I have a small flat in an all-wizard complex, so that's nice." Hermione wished she lived in a flat with all wizards. She loved her Muggle husband dearly, but got tired of the Muggle technology, and often found it difficult to keep from her Muggle friends that she is a witch.

Ron returned an instant later, carrying drinks. "Here you are, 'Mione," he said, setting one down in front of Hermione.

"Thank you." She took a long sip from her drink. She turned to Lavender and said, "What have you been up to these last ten years?"

Lavender smiled sheepishly, and then frowned. "Well, I wasted six years of my life trying to further my career as a clairvoyant." She gave an irritable laugh. "No sense in that; I've got no talent. Parvati's the real seer." She turned around to the next table to smile at her friend Parvati.

"What now?" asked Hermione.

"I just finished nurse's training last month. I really like it. And they're always looking for more nurses nowadays because..." She trailed off. People did a lot of trailing off, Hermione noticed. They wanted not only to spare the listener from the horrible truth that they were living, but also to spare themselves from telling it.

Hermione smiled kindly and turned toward Seamus, the only person at the table she hadn't talked to. "Still living in Ireland, I suppose?" she inquired.

"I am," said Seamus, "but I travel a lot for work. I work in the Ministry, you see. I spent the last ten years in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, but I just got promoted to the Department of Mysteries." When he saw that everyone had held their breath and were staring at him with wide-eyed fascination, he said, "No, I haven't discovered anything real interesting yet. I'm just new. It'll be awhile before I get to do some real experiments." Everyone exhaled and sat back in their seats. "I have been doing a lot of work for the Order, though," Seamus added brightly.

"The Order of the Phoenix?" asked Ron, amazed. His parents were in the Order, as were his brothers Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George, and his sister Ginny, but he wasn't, and was interested to know how Seamus got in.

"Yeah," said Seamus. "My mother was a Prewett. She was always too sickly to join the Order, so when I graduated, she sent me to avenge the deaths of her brothers."

"Well," said Hermione, a bit more anxiously than she intended to, "you're in the Order; did you know that Dumbledore's very sick?"

Seamus turned ghostly white. "N-no," he answered. "Nobody told me that." He thought a moment. "He has been absent from the last several meetings, though," he added, his heart sinking terribly.

"I happened to walk into a classroom when I was with Ginny and Luna," said Hermione. "And he was in there - sick in bed!" She watched everyone's eyes widen with terror and disbelief. "He didn't see me," she added.

"No," Ron laughed nervously. "He's probably faking it to throw off You-Know-Who..."

"Dumbledore wouldn't fake," Lavender said softly. "If Hermione saw him, then he's sick all right."

Ron gulped. "I was afraid you'd say that."

"He's Dumbledore, though," said Dean. "He'll get better." And when no one responded, he added, "Won't he?"

Seamus cleared his throat and said, "The last few Order meetings have been rather, well, nervous. I've never seen Minerva McGonagall fidget so much in my entire life. And Snape -"

"Snape!" exclaimed Hermione, not allowing Seamus to finish his sentence. "Where is he? I haven't seen him here."

"He's over there," Ron said, pointing to the far corner of the Great Hall. There sat Snape, his head down, looking at no one. He looked worn and haggard. He barely moved.

"He knows," whispered Hermione. Seamus nodded in agreement. "I have to go and talk to him."

"Why?" asked Ron.

"Because I'm scared! I'm worried about what's going to happen. At home this whole Voldemort thing is easier to handle. I feel somehow severed, and it feels in some way unrealistic. But here I know it's real; Voldemort is real." She fixed her eyes on Ron's in a deep, penetrating gaze. "The scariest thing is the unknown, Ron," she said. "I just hope knowledge will appease.... I'm going off to talk to Snape."

Ron shook Hermione's hand. "Good luck."

Hermione stumbled across the room to where Snape was sitting. She pulled up a chair and sat across from him. "Professor Snape?" she began softly.

"What is it?" he snapped.

Hermione was quite taken aback. "I just haven't seen you since graduation and I was wondering how you were doing."

Snape looked at Hermione with his cold, dark eyes; an expression of utter disgust upon his face. "Why don't you go have a few more drinks, Granger?"

Hermione got angry. She stood up and tried to fix Snape with the same hard glare he'd just set her. "I have an important question," she demanded.

"What?" Snape spat.

"I want to know how Dumbledore is. He's ill, but he didn't tell anyone. Not even members of th-"

"How did you find out?" Snape roared, standing up. He put his arm out, possibly to hit Hermione, but restrained himself. "Listen, girl. You're not supposed to know. No one is. He'll get better." He sat back down. Hermione, however, was not content. She stood, hovering over Snape like a mad vulture. "That's all I know," Snape muttered. "That's all I can tell you, at any rate."

"Tell me," said Hermione in a harsh whisper. Snape dared not look up into her livid eyes. Her fists were clenched in anger.

"Hermione!" cried a voice from across the room. It was Ron. Ron had seen that Hermione's meeting with Snape wasn't going to well, so he ran over to Hermione and led her out of the way. "My apologies, Professor," Ron said to Professor Snape. "Come on, Hermione."

He hurried Hermione out of the way. "Do you realize what you just did?" he asked, scolding. He saw that Hermione was once again on the verge of tears, so he added, "Come on now. It's getting late. Let's go back to the Burrow, where I'm staying. Mum and Dad won't mind an extra guest."

Hermione smiled and put her arm in Ron's. The two of them said their goodbyes and took off down the long bath that led to the end of the Hogwarts grounds, where they would be able to aparate back to the Burrow. Hermione smiled in anticipation for reaching her favorite home in the world.