Through the Trapdoor Again

The last day of Hermione Granger-Weasley's life was as uneventful as the decade before it. She got up, had toast for breakfast, and spent the day reading in bed. Some things had never changed, her love of books being the primary trait. While her skin had wrinkled and her hair faded to silver, her thirst for knowledge had never waned. She wore glasses these days; a lifetime spent reading by candlelight had left her with poor eyesight. She also had a slight curvature of the spine, which was likely also attributed to her reading habits.

On her last day of life Mrs Weasley chose to re-read The Tales of Beedle the Bard, to remind herself of times past. There was an English translation on her bookcase these days, but Hermione always chose to read the battered old copy that Albus Dumbledore left her all those years ago. As she thumbed each dog-eared page Hermione could still feel the emotions she had gone through as a teenager; from the terror of not knowing if she would live to see the end of the second Wizarding War to the elation she had felt after destroying Hufflepuff's cup, to the sorrow of losing many people whom she cared for deeply. Above all of these, however, the one feeling Hermione treasured most was the sense of belonging she felt when she was with Harry and Ron. They had transformed her from a socially inept know-it-all into a loyal friend who was willing to lay down her life to protect people and uphold values she believed were right. They had both left the mortal world years before, Harry firt, then Ron; Hermione missed them terribly. She had watched many people she loved die - either to old age or to Dark wizards - but there were no two people she mourned more than her husband and their best friend.

Today the book was heavy in Hermione's thin hands and she felt drowsy as she deciphered the runes before her. She was only a few pages from the end before she finally succumbed to sleep, the book falling into her lap with a soft phut and her glasses sliding down her nose.

-o0o-

Hugo had received the owl from his sister in the early hours of the next morning. He hurried over to his childhood home to find Rose in the master bedroom, sitting on a chair facing their mother's body.

"She looks so peaceful," Rose murmured, "I know it's such a cliché, but it really does look like she's just sleeping."

Hugo had to agree. She was propped up in bed, having clearly fallen asleep reading. Her glasses lay on the open book in her lap, and her lips curved up in a slight smile at the edges. Hermione had slipped away peacefully, the bright witch that had impacted the Wizarding World in so many ways slipping out when nobody was looking. Of course, once the media found out about it, they'd have a field day - her obituary would be on the front page of the Prophet, public memorials would be held all over the country and famous writers would be fighting each other for the chance to write a biography of the last surviving member of the trio who saved magical Britain nearly a century ago. But Hugo knew that his mother wouldn't want any of that. She had lived for over a hundred years and had achieved so much; it felt right somehow for her to have a quiet death away from the eyes of the world.

Rose gently lifted the book from her mother's lap. "It's Beedle the Bard, of course," she said, but Hugo already knew. As Rose closed the book something slipped out of the pages and fell to the floor. She stooped to pick it up, then laughed as she recognised her father's face waving from the chocolate frog card. "What a strange thing to use as a bookmark!" she exclaimed, placing the card and the book on the bedside table, next to another photo, this one of Harry, Ron and Hermione in their first year of Hogwarts.

"They're all together now," Hugo murmured.

-o0o-

Hermione gradually became aware of three facts: the fact that she was lying down on a cold stone floor; the fact that this floor was that of a Hogwarts corridor; and lastly the fact that she was completely naked. She sat up quickly, embarrassed at being naked in a public corridor, to find a pile of clothes lying to her right that she hadn't noticed before. She scrambled to her feet - noticing, as she did so, that her joints gave her no pain at all - and pulled them on. They were Muggle clothes, plain brown trousers and an oversized blue jumper. As she pulled the latter over her head she noticed that her chest was flat. This was odd; her body was not the same as the one she had fallen asleep in. Hermione ran a hand through her hair and lifted a strand in front of her face; it was as brown as it had ever been in her youth. She could see perfectly well despite not having her glasses with her. It seemed that she was in the body of her youth. How strange.

Once she had taken in all she could about her new - or rather, old - appearance, Hermione began to study the scene around her. She was, as noted before, standing in a Hogwarts corridor - a third floor corridor, to be precise - and a door in front of her was ajar. The door was one Hermione knew very well. She, Harry and Ron had accidentally entered the cupboard beyond in their first year to find Fluffy the three-headed-dog. Taking a step towards the door, Hermione observed with some relief that Fluffy was not in the cupboard now. Instead she could make out the figures of two eleven-year-old boys which became clearer as she drew closer. One had black hair; the other red. As Hermione recognised them, they grinned at her and waved, prompting her to sprint forward and breathlessly embrace them both.

"You missed us, then!" remarked Ron as he was bear-hugged and kissed on the cheek repeatedly by his wife.

"Looks like it," chuckled Harry as he was hugged in turn.

"You have no idea! It's been years since I last saw you both, and I didn't really know how to cope without you. What are you doing here? Where is this? I mean, I know where it is, it's Hogwarts, but what is it - is this - am I-?" Her eyes widened as she remembered a conversation held with Harry many years ago.

Ron nodded.

"Yep, you're dead. Or halfway there, at least. It turns out we're the people who are going to help you through to the other side."

"Like Dumbledore did for me," Harry chimed in. Hermione nodded. She remembered what Harry had told her about his brush with death at 17.

"Is this-" she gestured with her hand to the surroundings "-all the same as it was for you?"

"No, it was King's Cross Station, for me. I got on the train in the end."

"Where is this, by the way?" queried Ron, gazing at the scene around them.

"It's the forbidden cupboard on the third floor corridor," replied Hermione, "you know, the one that housed Fluffy?"

"Oh, yeah," said Ron, "that would explain that." He pointed at something Hermione had not noticed before. A few feet away from them the trapdoor sat, open, waiting for someone to jump through into the darkness beyond.

"Well, looks like you'll be going through the trapdoor again, eventually," Ron remarked, turning back to face Hermione, "but first, I want to catch up on some things with my wife. How are Rose and Hugo?"

"They're... they're just... fine. They're going to be just great, Ron." Hermione gazed straight into Ron's blue eyes and was surprised that unlike the rest of his appearance, his eyes were those of a fully mature Ron. She could see a lifetime of emotion, knowledge and wisdom in them.

He smiled warmly at her, holding both her hands tightly. "You have no idea how much I've missed you," he continued. "Heaven is just no fun without the one you love."

"Everyone else is waiting for you, too!" interjected Harry, subtly reminding the lovers that he was still there. "There's your mum and dad, the rest of the Weasleys, McGonagall, Neville, Dumbledore, Luna, so many others - even Snape!"

"I can't wait." Hermione let go of Ron's hands to hug Harry again. "I'll have the rest of all eternity to catch up with everyone. It was always you two I missed the most, though. I couldn't have done any of the things I've managed in my life without you two by my side."

"Well, I dunno about that," muttered Ron, a sly grin spreading across his face. "There was the House-Elf Protection Legislation, you did that all by yourself."

"And rising translating Beedle the Bard, we didn't help you there," added harry.

"Don't forget that Charms test you got about three hundred percent on in first year!"

"All right, boys, I get the point," Hermione muttered, although she blushed at their praise.

"Anyway, we'd probably better get going," said harry, glancing at his watch, which Hermione was sure he hadn't been wearing moments before. The three friends walked over to the trapdoor and Ron flicked his wand to make the door Vanish. Harry looked from the trapdoor to each of his friends. "Who's going first?"

"Oh no no, we're all going together this time," Hermione decided. "Like I said before, I do everything with you two. Of course I'd want to face this last adventure with you both." Ron shrugged his assent and Harry looked touched. The trio were now standing in a triangle facing each other, toes curling over the edges of the trapdoor hole that lay between them. Hermione linked arms with Ron on her left and Harry on her right; the boys linked arms to hold the triangle together.

"So, Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Granger, wife of Ron Weasley, mother of Rose and Hugo Weasley, auntie to many more Weasleys and Potters and best friend of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley; are you ready for the next great adventure?" Harry joked.

"I've been waiting for this moment all my life!" giggled Hermione.

"Ready? On three!" she instructed.

"One-" yelled Ron.

"Two-" shouted Harry.

"THREE!" Hermione bellowed as the three children all stepped towards each other, closing the gap between them and falling through the trapdoor into the unknown beyond.