Hermione's Story

I knocked three times and thought I could hear the echoes sounding in the room beyond.

"Enter!" called an old voice.

Opening the door, I beheld Professor Dumbledore sitting behind an antique desk cluttered with bits of parchment, quills and some strange contraptions that I had never seen before. I had presumed Dumbledore's office to be a most fascinating place because after all, he was the Headmaster of Hogwarts and had to be the oddest and most fantastic of them all. And indeed he was.

I would have liked to have a good look and poke around his office but now was certainly not the time, I supposed. I had never seen Dumbledore look so tired and somber and I thought that it would be best to get it all over and done with, whatever it was.

"Please come in, Miss Granger, and feel free to sit down," he said gently.

I chose the worn out chair right opposite him which I was sure had once been ruby red. So many people must have sat in it that it had started losing its color but it was very soft and comfortable still. The old headmaster sat looking at me gravely from his own chair and I noticed that he was holding a letter of coarse yellow parchment bearing the purple seal of the Ministry of Magic in his wiry wrinkled hands. I had seen the seal on one of Mr. Weasley's letters while spending the summer at Ron's house with Harry, and thought it was nothing.

Dumbledore gets letters from the Ministry all the time, I thought. Come on pull yourself together, Hermione. Stop jumping to wild conclusions.

"Professor, if you don't mind me asking, why did you summon me to your office?" I questioned, peering into his grim blue eyes, that were absent of their usual twinkle and were now merely dark and leaden.

"Please believe that when I tell you this, I am deeply grieved to do so, Miss Granger," he said sincerely. "I was informed today by the Magical Law Enforcement Squad that there had been another attack by Death Eaters."

What does this have to do with me?

I looked up and could practically feel the old Headmasters eyes penetrating my soul. He plowed on.

"A Muggle reported seeing an odd shaped green mark, hovering above a house in the north of London," continued Dumbledore, his solid gaze never wavering off me. "When asked to describe the mark, it exactly matched the Dark Mark that has been plaguing the front page of the Daily Prophet for the past few months."

I should just take deep breaths ... deep, deep breaths ...This has nothing to do with me...

I knew what the Dark Mark meant: death. All of the articles that had been in the Daily Prophet reported that no one inside any of the homes that were attacked were left alive.

"Hermione, it deeply grieves me to tell you this, but the house that was attacked was yours."

My world, everything, suddenly caved in. Memories of the past came crashing down around me, taunting me.

"Did they make it? Did my Mum and Dad make it?" I gasped, shaking uncontrollably.

Dumbledore bowed his head and closed his eyes.

"They did not."

This was it, the highest epitome of grief that I had ever felt so far in my life. My mind was whirling with Dumbledore's words. My parents were gone and I couldn't do anything to help them. I realized that I could not find a solution to this problem like I had done in my classes; this was the end. They were gone, my beloved mother and father, and I was now an orphan. I thought of Harry and could finally understand exactly how he felt, knowing his parents were dead and that he was powerless to do anything about it. I felt hands on my shoulders that were racking with hysterical sobs. I felt myself being carried to the Hospital Wing but I didn't thank whoever it was. All I could feel, all I could comprehend was the aching pain that was consuming me. I cried desperately throughout the night, until finally sleep came.