Living Unity

Living Unity

Chapter 1

Hermione was sitting in the living room of her house, a relatively simple and not overly large dwelling. She had a cup of tea next to her, and a small heap of digestive biscuits, and in her slim hands was placed a book.

The book's front cover was a plain red, with the title written in simple white text. The pages: black text of the standard wizarding style on a white background.

Hermione was adorned with a beautiful summer dress, in bright yellows and oranges. She would never wear this sort of thing if she was going away from her house, perhaps into the nearby town of Hogsmeade, although at home, she was quite happy to carry it on her body all day long. It was loose and allowed the soft summer breeze to circulate over the surface of her skin, and it no longer caused a large scar she had been unfortunate enough to receive in her seventh year to sting and stab with pain.

Hermione's hair remained brown, and as curled as it ever had been; the waves of her childhood had been amplified in magnitude as she matured. Her hair, however, was longer now than it had ever been; since she had left Hogwarts, she had allowed her hair to grow much, much more than she had ever permitted it before, and it was now reaching most of the way down her back.

Hermione turned a page carefully, taking care not to damage the book, one owned by her old friend, Professor Minerva McGonagall. Formally her teacher, the Professor was now temporary headmistress of Beauxbatons Academie, the French school for Witchcraft and Wizardry, while its usual directrice, Madame Maxime, and the groundskeeper from Hogwarts, Rubeus Hagrid, had set off on a mission to attempt to unify the Giant population with the rest of the living world. After her graduation, Hermione was offered the Professor's job, that of Transfiguration teacher, while the latter was involved with Beauxbatons. Although it was almost unheard of for someone so recently graduated to receive such a prominent position, the directors of Hogwarts had made an exception in the case of Hermione, who was one of the highest ever scoring students of Hogwarts on her NEWT exams, although a good deal of it had been to do with Professor McGonagall's personal recommendation.

The Professor and Hermione had grown closer after the incident, and Hermione owed a good deal of what she now was to this wise lady. They exchanged letters now, as Professor McGonagall lived a good way away from Hogwarts.

Hermione jumped as an owl tapped on the window, and she got up, smiling at the owl and carefully placing the book down on the sofa. She opened the window, and it flew in gracefully, its feathers the purest white and its hooting soft and gentle. It landed safely on a tall figurine Hermione had been given as a graduation gift by her parents.

She almost glided across the room back to the owl, which hooted brightly at her as she approached. She patted it on the head, and removed the owl's burden, a small letter, of which she recognized the handwriting on the envelope instantly. It was from McGonagall; her latest letter, delivered by the late Harry Potter's owl, Hedwig, who now belonged to the astute Hermione.

The letter's envelope and the letter itself were both of old parchment and the handwriting elegant, clearly created with a quill of high quality. The envelope was sealed with a vibrant red wax stamp.

Hermione carefully opened the communiqué, and gently pulled out the parchment inside, and unfolding it, eager and anticipative as to its content. She sat down on the sofa again, being careful not to sit on the book, and dipped into the letter with her eyes, feeding herself on its words. She noticed, just after she had started to read, that Hedwig was staring up at a picture of Harry that was positioned on Hermione's mantelpiece, with big, round, sad eyes and a sombre look covering her face. Hermione sighed as she watched her, then returned to the letter.

The letter read:

Dear Hermione,

How are you, my dear? I do hope that the burdens of teaching are not too hard on you. Of course I don't doubt that you're managing; you were one of the best students we ever had, and might I add, you did Gryffindor proud. In any case, teaching should suit you well; you and education seem to go hand in hand.

I must admit, I am finding my new role quite a challenge. Being a headmistress is no small order, even if it is on a temporary basis, but to be head of a foreign school is even more difficult. Apart from on a language basis (although my French is certainly up to scratch), there are also challenges to face on a cultural level. The procedures and day-to-day life of Beauxbatons are quite different to those of Hogwarts, and although the staff here are doing their utmost to be of aid to me, I must admit I am feeling somewhat... ambivalent about the prospect of an entire year here. Nevertheless, we shall see. I'm not likely to leave when I enjoy the cooking as much as I do!

Ah, yes, dear, what are the Gryffindors like this year? I trust they're not a troublesome bunch, although (and this is strictly off the record) the Slytherins will no doubt be a handful. And how are we doing in the Quidditch Cup? Hopefully, we'll be winning - it'll cost me a lot of pride to have to give up this trophy.

On a different note I saw your friends Lavender and Parvati a few days ago, in town. They were purchasing various products, although I don't know what for... they wouldn't say, except that they were for 'experimentation', and I don't doubt I know why - Divination has had far too much impact on those two girls. They still giggle as much as ever, you know. You are probably already aware of this, but they have opened a small shop here in France specialising in Divination products. It's just... well, you know my opinions on the subject.

I hope Professor Snape isn't giving you too much trouble; I know he can be... somewhat less sociable from time to time, shall we say. He did promise that he would treat you with the same respect as an adult now; after all, you deserve nothing less, and in my opinion, much more, but I wasn't sure whether to believe him. He's not your teacher any more, so don't be afraid to keep him in check where it is necessary.

Now, dear, another couple of owls should be arriving soon with a gift for you from myself. I trust you will enjoy it; I selected it especially for you, although to let slip a little secret, it wasn't that hard to choose this. I know you too well, Miss Granger...

Finally, I'd like to invite you to come to Beauxbatons. Albus has arranged for a half-term week to be added to each school term, as you know, so, if you can, please pay me a visit during that time. I look forward to seeing you again.

Yours faithfully,

Professor M. McGonagall

Hermione replaced the letter in its envelope, contemplating that which Professor McGonagall had written as she moved to the kitchen to boil some water for another cup of tea. Hermione's preferred tea was Chai, an Indian blend that she considered quite tangy, and she enjoyed a cup or two on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

The water heated quickly and she added it to the cup, which already possessed a teabag, allowing it to ferment for a few minutes. While she did so, she heard further hooting from owls, recently entered in her living room; evidently, her present had arrived.

She untied it from the owls; it was rather large, and she was unsure how the owls had managed to deliver it. About two feet by one by one, she opened the box and revealed its contents; it contained several bottles of wine, a wide selection of cheeses and a small myriad of other French foods. Hermione smiled at this, but her face entirely lit up when a glint caught her eye from between the cheeses. She plunged her hand between then and carefully extracted the object. It was a solid gold amulet, sculpted with precision in the shape of the emblem of the house of Gryffindor, Hermione's old house at Hogwarts, and now the house that she led; previously, this had been Professor McGonagall's job.

Hermione was astounded; this was one-of-a-kind, absolutely pure and untarnished, and was of immense value, both of the monetary and emotional kind. It took her a moment to recover from the shock of seeing such a thing being presented to her; this was no ordinary gift, and Hermione knew this well. The emotions resonated throughout her, and her hands shook, almost to the extent that she dropped the object of their cause; the Professor had made a very good choice when she had selected this item for her former student, as was now obvious from Hermione's reactions.

She did not move for a while as she absorbed the emotions currently pounding through every square inch of her skin. Eventually, she regained control of herself and once again searched around inside the box, discovering more and more different types of food. Hermione was impressed; it would take her a while to get through the somewhat large selection her former professor had provided for her.

***

After Hermione had finished her tea, and relaxed for a while, she thought about returning McGonagall's letter. Hermione would certainly have loved to see France again; she had not been since she was thirteen years old, when she had visited the south of France with her sister, Sophie, her mother, Jane, and her father, Alan. She had certainly enjoyed the trip, and it would certainly be a lovely experience, she thought, to go back to the beautiful country and experience it through the eyes of her adulthood.

But before responding, she decided to take a cool and refreshing shower; the heat of the late summer was still as scorching as ever, with temperatures rarely falling below 35 degrees Centigrade, and it was enough to make one want to spend every waking moment in the shower, where the fine spray of the cool water was the most comfortable place one could hope to be.

After her shower, she wrapped the towel around her body carefully, returning to her bedroom in order that she might change into something she could wear for a short trip to The Three Broomsticks, a free house situated quite locally to her humble repose.

Hermione put on a well-ironed pair of jeans, and a simple red T-shirt. She dried her hair, and brushed it thoroughly; finally, she found a small paper bag from her kitchen, and placed within its confines a small bottle of blue ink, some brown parchment, and a delicate quill.

She exited her house, locking the door as she did so; this behaviour was more from force of habit, encouraged by her Muggle lifestyle than due to any particular need. The defeat of the dark wizard Lord Voldemort, and the subsequent defeat of the remaining Death Eaters, had rendered upon the wizarding world a new and powerful sense of safety, of security, and the vast majority no longer locked their doors. Hermione, however, was the exception to this rule. She always and unfailingly secured her house before departing from it.

Her house was located east of the wizarding town of Hogsmeade, where lived many of the wizarding world's most unique and special occupants. Today, Hermione would have to walk from one side of the town to the other, from her house to a place very near Hogwarts' Forbidden Forest.

The weather outside in this serene area of the world was perfect today; there were but a few tiny cirrocumulus clouds, high in the sky, and the sun's rays penetrated the atmosphere with definite intent and gave the entire sky a fabulous light.

As Hermione walked along the road that ran through the town, she passed a myriad of familiar locales, starting with Dervish & Banges, the magical equipment repair shop, where Hermione had been once or twice with Harry in the past when his broom had required minor repairs. Very little had changed there, from a cursory glance, she observed.

Continuing down the long street, she passed Zonko's, the wizarding joke shop, which did many a bit of business with students from Hogwarts. She had even visited once or twice, to drag out Ron or Harry, in most cases.

She passed Honeydukes as she slowly meandered along the road; she had stopped by, and only once, she noted to herself with pride, for a bag of coconut mushrooms and a large banana and carrot flavoured lollipop. She had also, she remembered fondly, seen Luna Lovegood browsing through the more, one could say, 'interesting' choices, such as Cockroach Clusters and Bloodthroat Berries.

Hermione's brown hair bobbed up and down behind her as she continued on, and a light breeze started to brush softly against her face, as she approached her destination, The Three Broomsticks, a pub that Harry, Ron and Hermione had used to rendezvous many a time. It, like many of the other outlets in Hogsmeade's main street, had changed and evolved little over the years, although the patrons were more numerous now that Voldemort was gone.

As Hermione entered, a few heads turned; it was rare to see this particular Hogwarts professor indulge in such a thing as a pub. She approached the bar and straightened out her hair a little bit with her hands, and Madam Rosmerta approached her from the far right side.

"Hello, Hermione. It's been a while since I saw you around here... Hogwarts been keeping you busy, has it?" she asked, as she continued to clean glasses.

"Indeed, it has been quite a challenge, Rosmerta," Hermione replied.

"So, what can I get you?"

"Well, as you know I don't usually drink but today... well, I'll have an iced gin and tonic, please," she asked.

Rosmerta raised her left eyebrow at this unexpected change. "Nice to see you're finally getting into the spirit, Hermione, m'dear." She poured the drink, and handed it to her, taking the money for it at the same time.

"Thank you, Rosmerta," Hermione said in acknowledgement, and took her drink to a table in the corner; she had not sat at this table for a very long time; in fact, it was her third year that had brought her last visit to her.

Hermione placed the bag on the table, then sat down, after the briefest moment of contemplation, taking out the parchment, quill and ink as soon as she had seated herself.

She rolled out the parchment, and started to write her response to Professor McGonagall.

Dear Professor,

I hope you are well, and that all bides fine for you in France. To answer your question, yes, Professor Snape is giving me a hard time, but no more than usual. Granted it's only two weeks into term, but he's being his usual self. Don't worry, I have it in hand, and if he tries anything drastic, I'll speak to Professor Dumbledore.

I feel I must thank you for the wonderful gift you have honoured me with. You could not have chosen anything more thoughtful than a gift that represents the pride of Gryffindor, that I might carry it around my neck every day with me. And the food... I shall enjoy that very much...

With regards to your offer, I am delighted to accept. I would love to see France again; it is a most beautiful and culturally rich place, and I would also like to see your school, if that would be permissible.

Gryffindor have scored a good deal of points, even in these two weeks; they've already managed to get 50 points, whereas the other houses are well behind. As for the new students, they are mostly fine, although as you said, some of the Slytherins are a bother. And there is a particular first year, in Gryffindor, who reminds me of myself to such an extent I wonder if she is a long lost member of my family; she does all that which I used to do, studies all day, reads all night, hardly plays at all... but she has friends, and that I'm glad to see. I'm going to keep an eye out for her; Dumbledore thinks she has great promise, as do I.

Anyway, I must finish now; I have to prepare the classes for tomorrow. I hope you continue to enjoy your experience in Beauxbatons.

See you soon,

Hermione.

As she finished her communiqué and rolled up the scroll again, she noticed a small man approaching her, with a pointy hat and a beard, and waving his wand merrily about, drawing shapes in the air with it. Eventually, he drew a five-pointed star and shot it at Hermione, which fully got her attention.

"Good afternoon, Hermione. How are we doing? Still endlessly working, are we?" he asked brightly.

Hermione beamed at the man, a teacher known as Professor Flitwick, who apart from teaching Charms, was the head of Ravenclaw House, home to those of great intelligence and wisdom, although Hermione, of course, was of the noble house of Gryffindor.

"Yes, Professor, one can never have too much work, I think," she replied. "Yourself?"

Filius nodded. "Yes, indeed, young one, although I am old now, I still like to keep up with the work. Gives me a sense of purpose, you know."

Hermione momentarily felt a little disturbed by Professor Flitwick's last reply, but shook it off and continued. "Well, Professor, would you like to join me?"

Flitwick smiled. "Don't mind if I do." He sat himself down opposite Hogwarts' newest and youngest Professor, with a Cherry Syrup and soda. "So, Hermione, how are you finding it? Being on the other side, as it were?"

Hermione looked around, then moved closer to Flitwick. "Well, to tell you the truth, Professor, I'm having a little trouble with Professor Snape. He's somewhat... arrogant, and he still treats me like I'm a student."

Filius smiled. "Ah, Hermione, dear, don't worry too much about him. Just stay on his good side and all will be fine. If it isn't, have a word with Albus; I'm sure he'll help you out."

Hermione noted, in conclusion, "I wish I was as confident as you in those ideas, Professor. I don't believe Snape can ever really change."

"Moving on," she added, "I've a student in my class with great potential in her. Her name's Alison Hunt; do you know her?"

Professor Flitwick raised his eyebrows and looked around in thought. "Hmm... possibly," he concluded. "What does she look like?"

Hermione gave a description of the girl, to which the Professor responded affirmatively; he did know the girl. She, as he noted, was, like Hermione, the only one in the class initially able to perform the Wingardium Leviosa charm with success in her year group.

She thought back to that time with warm memories surfacing of her first year with her friends Harry and Ron, and her roommates, Lavender and Parvati in particular. But as she thought back to that lesson, back to her two best friends, and more specifically, back to Ronald Weasley, her thoughts became difficult; she felt, perhaps, even a bit guilty about what had happened in the past few years.

Flitwick added, "So how's Ron then? You and he were very close, as I recall."

Hermione flinched almost instantly, although unnoticeably to Flitwick. She delayed her response just a second too long, long enough that Flitwick queried it.

She finally gave him an answer, although it was blatantly a lie.

"Ron's fine, Professor. He's doing really well, last thing I heard," she replied, with every word being a falsification.

Professor Flitwick apparently accepted it, though, although he wasn't going to leave it at that. "What's he doing then? Hopefully being as successful as you are."

Hermione replied that she wasn't sure, but she thought he was probably playing Quidditch professionally now. His first real taste of it, during his fifth year, had given him a real liking for the game, and he had repeatedly said during his sixth and seventh years that he'd like to play professionally when he left Hogwarts.

"No, I'm afraid I don't know, Professor. I thought he was going into Quidditch but that was a long time ago."

"Ah, Quidditch, yes, Hermione, do you think your team will beat mine this year? We do have a very competent lot, you know."

Hermione, thankful for the escape from the previous topic, went straight for this change of subject. "Oh, I don't think you'll have to worry. That is, worry about having to prepare an acceptance speech for the trophy. I'll be preparing mine."

Filius waggled his finger about. "We'll see, we'll see, Miss Granger. Although as long as Slytherin don't get it, I'll be happy."

The conversation continued apace for another half an hour, before Hermione realised that it was almost time to be returning home, and she excused herself from the Professor, taking her items with her.

As she wandered down the street, she opened her heart to herself. Filius' questions had been very trying for her; she had had trouble to respond without snapping, and she felt that, perhaps, she needed to ask herself some difficult questions.

Where was Ron?

How was he doing?

Why did we ever lose each other?

She walked straight past the Hogsmeade post office before she realised that she had forgotten to post her letter, and, annoyed that she had become so easily distracted, turned back and entered the office, getting her letter posted as quickly as she could, choosing the smallest and thus quickest owl. Although it might perhaps have been easier, and certainly would have been cheaper, to send Hedwig, Hermione was considerate of the fact that Hedwig had just returned from a long journey, and that she would need rest, so she decided to pay the fee, and help her beloved owl.

She simply wanted to return home now. She trundled through the streets, with her hair blowing wildly behind her, but she didn't care; she had no real concern about her physical appearance at this moment. Hell, she thought, she'd have walked through Hogsmeade naked at this point; she was so distracted and so overwhelmed with pain.

She'd first lost her best friend to the fight against evil, and then she lost her soulmate to the forbidden emotions they had felt; the emotions that she, herself, feared the most.

Hermione Granger, had, in her heart, lost it all.

A single tear escaped her left eye as she left Hogsmeade, heading for home.

***

Hermione used her wand's magic to cause a spoon to autonomously stir the baked beans she was cooking to go on some toast, for her tea. Baked beans on toast, admittedly, was not the most elegant of meals, but Hermione, again, had learnt from her life as a Muggle-born witch, and still ate this meal when she didn't have the inclination to dedicate her time to a more elaborate dish.

As the toast popped out of the toaster (an ingenious combination of spells, which had made its inventor a rich woman), Hermione finished cooking the beans, and spread them over the already-arranged toast. The plate she used was a standard ceramic one, but it had a lovely pattern of different garden birds around the edge.

Hermione carried the plate into her living room on a tray, along with her knife and fork, and a glass of carrot juice. She sat down in a chair, and placed cushions behind her to support her as she ate.

The beans were very well cooked, and Hermione was enjoying every bite of her meal, which, although it was known to cause gastrointestinal distress if consumed too frequently, was absolutely delicious, very filling and quite nutritious.

Hermione continued to relish every bite, until she heard a somewhat muffled noise outside. It was very close, and sounded like the impact of ceramics on concrete.

She almost choked on her mouthful, and quickly swallowed it, putting the tray on the floor, and instinctively pulling out her wand.

The room's curtains were closed, and Hermione thought she could see the smallest effect of a shadow projecting upon the outside of the window. She could also hear a tiny inkling of a voice, that of a middle-aged man. There was also someone younger with him, probably a female, attempting to shush him.

Hermione, now sure, tiptoed to her front door, and, silently taking off the chain, she placed her hand gently on the door handle.

She stealthily pushed the door handle down, and then, with a burst of adrenaline, yanked the door back, stepped outside and swung to the right using one of the poles of her porch, yelling "Expelliarmus!"

The spell caught the man's chest and he dropped a massive pile of photographic equipment as he was tossed to the floor by the power of Hermione's magic. The girl turned around, ready to defend, but Hermione had her wand pointed straight at her.

Suddenly, she realised who it was.

"Luna?" she asked in disbelief. "Umm... what are you doing here? I haven't seen you in years! And... is that... no, it can't be..."

The man got up, brushing himself off.

Luna began. "Oh, he's..."

He interrupted. "Gilderoy Lockhart. Order of Photography, Third Class. Honorary Member of the Quibbler and five times winner, of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award."

Hermione's eyes widened as a smirk crept over her face.

Gilderoy Lockhart, rendered totally amnesic by a backfiring of the Obliviate spell during Hermione's second year, the year in which he was the holder of the famed-accursed Defense Against The Dark Arts position at Hogwarts, was back. As egotistical as ever, apparently, she thought.

Hermione looked back at Luna; she was equally flabbergasted by how the blonde girl appeared. Her hair was as long and straggly as ever, and it was partially covered by an overly large, beige fishing hat, from which hung a series of eight silver spoons along its circumference most of which obscured her face to a degree. She was wearing a lime green t-shirt, underneath a beige sleeveless jacket, with many pockets, which, owing to their random positions, Hermione presumed Luna had created for herself. She was wearing shorts, also in the beige theme that possessed the rest of her body, and her socks, which went up to her knees, were striped horizontally in green and black. Finally, and Hermione noticed most disgustedly, she wore translucent colourless plastic sandals over the thick socks.

Hermione indicated with a wave of her hand that Luna and Lockhart should enter, and she passed through the door; as she did so, Hermione noticed an earring representing a turnip dangling from Luna's right ear. She directed a look in no particular direction indicating further distaste, but she did not turn them away.

Luna trotted into the kitchen and helped herself to a glass of water as Lockhart entered, wearing a ridiculous pair of shorts of similar proportion to Luna's, but in a blue reminiscent of his eye pigmentation, and made of silk, accentuated by his knees. His torso was donned in a blue, silk shirt, although of a darker colouring than his shorts, and he was wearing a turquoise hat, with a gold frill around the edge and a feather in the centre top. The look was completed with a deep red scarf, and a pair of strongly pointed boots, made of dragon hide, and so shiny that one would be able to see a clear, undistorted reflection in the tips, the recent destruction of Hermione's expensive ceramic plant-pot notwithstanding.

Hermione closed the door, and followed them into the kitchen, bemused at Luna's helping herself to a drink, and ushered them into the living room, in order that she might finish her meal. They complied without argument, and Hermione picked up her meal, sitting back in her chair softly and eating it once more. Luna sat down in the chair opposite to Hermione, while Gilderoy started to examine a gold gobstones set on one of Hermione's shelves, picking up the gobstones and rolling them about in his hands.

Hermione and Luna meanwhile conversed on the subject of the latter's arrival. The unique female, who had previously been a member of Ravenclaw House, and part of Dumbledore's Army, a secret society of students, set up by Harry Potter, in order that he might aid them in their learning of Defense Against The Dark Arts, was explaining her life as it currently was to the new Hogwarts professor.

"My daddy, you know my daddy, right? He's editor of the Quibbler. He's given me a job working for the Quibbler, as a reporter, which is so exciting; maybe I'll be able to find a Crumple-Horned Snorkack! I get to travel a lot, you know, as a reporter. It's so exciting... did I mention that? Anyway, I'm a reporter for the Quibbler, and this is Gilderoy, he's so dreamy, and he's very good at carrying my equipment around."

At the same time, Gilderoy was fighting the pieces, pretending they were soldiers in an ancient war.

Luna continued. "We met in St. Mungo's, you know, the wizarding hospital? I was reporting on an infestation of Cookleberries in the hospital, and I met Gilderoy wandering around one of the wards. He was very spaced out, not like me at all, but very confused. So I said hello to him, you know, and he said hello, because it's polite, and I did say this was all in St Mungo's, right?"

Hermione acknowledged with a nod, and Luna immediately continued, with another torrent of speech.

"So, after we'd said hi, I asked him why he was there, and he said, you know, that he had amnesia, and I decided to offer him a job, as my personal assistant. He can learn about the world again, that way, and the nurses said it would be... it would be good for him to get some time away from the hospital. So he now follows me on my reports, and I think that it is good for both of us. Congratulations, by the way, Hermione."

Hermione was momentarily dazed. "Huh... what?"

Luna waved her arm. "Oh don't be modest, Hermione, even we know that you're working at Hogwarts now."

"Ah," Hermione said, widening her eyes, and shifting position uncomfortably. "I see what you mean."

Luna buzzed happily on. "So, you're probably wanting to know why I'm here?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well, you know how every year at Hogwarts there's a different Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher? That reminds me of that Umbridge, wasn't she evil? I hate her for what she did to Harry. She was evil. Anyway, I'm here to investigate that. I've heard that it's to do with a curse, something like a dead teacher's ghost or something? Wouldn't that be freaky? Good job none of us is like that. We'd all be scared... Well, I'm going to follow the new teacher around all the time and watch and see what happens. Isn't that a good idea?"

"Ummm... yeah, it's a great idea, Luna. I'm sure it'll yield some results for you," Hermione replied.

"I'll be sure to let you know, Hermione. It'll be interesting for you too, I imagine. Just in case you ever want that position. Oh, by the way, I saw Ron a few weeks ago, when I was reporting on the Quidditch..."

Hermione lost the rest of the sentence. She let the tray slip off her legs, and it slammed hard into the ground, the remaining baked beans spreading themselves on the carpet. Luna briefly looked at it, but was not fazed.

"Sorry, Luna, what did you say?" Hermione demanded urgently.

"I said I saw Ron a few weeks ago. Anyway, isn't it good that I'm a reporter? And that I'm going to be in Hog-"

"Luna, hang on. Where did you see Ron?"

Luna played with one of the spoons on her hat and looked up in thought, then looked back at Hermione. "Ah! I know! He was one of the players on the Quidditch team that my daddy sponsors."

"And what team does your daddy sponsor?"

"Umm... what was it..." Luna started, continuing to play with the spoons, and even clinking them off of each other like a wind-chime.

Hermione waited in anticipation, but eventually Luna shook her head in frustration.

"I can't remember... Sorry, Hermione, I don't know," she finished.

Hermione was superlatively frustrated by Luna's docility, but accepted it. She would find out herself; a copy or two of the Quibbler was bound to be around Hogwarts.

Suddenly, Luna looked at her wrist, which was adorned with a strange design, which apparently meant something to her exclusively. She almost yelped, and Hermione's previous contemplations of Ron were erased from her mind like chalk from a blackboard.

"Ooooh! Hermione, we have to go! Come on Gilderoy, we have to go see the Batmingles! Come on!" She positively raced out of the door, with Lockhart following apace.

Hermione followed them to the door, smiling as she watched them leave, and finally closed it, on this peculiar pair.