Chapter Six: The Visitors

It took Hermione much longer to wake up when she could not open her eyes. The line between dreams and thoughts was a blurry one. Every morning she woke herself by straining to hear the faint sounds through the walls around her. She was sure they were walls now, because she could no longer hear the Healers talking in hushed tones or the murmuring of other patients and visitors.

This morning, Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore’s portrait exchanged their greetings as usual and then Luna and Neville came to visit her. There was no more talk of Professor Snape, but he was all Hermione could think about. While Luna entertained Neville and Hermione with her latest theories, Hermione replayed what she had seen in Snape’s memory again and again in her mind. She was desperate to retrieve her own memories and to understand what had happened. Hermione was just as curious as her friends were about her heroic act.

Hermione's thoughts turned back to Snape. It was not until Dumbledore’s death that she had been able to believe the worst of her sharp-tongued Potions professor. Something she saw once or twice in his eyes had continued to make her wonder if there were yet more layers of deception to his role than anyone could know. A sliver of doubt had lingered in Hermione’s mind, but she had not dared to let the hope that Snape might still be on their side grow into anything like a coherent thought or theory. At most, she had attributed the startling emotion she had seen in his normally guarded face as proof that he was not completely lost to evil.

For some time, it had been her faith in Dumbledore's judgement that made her wonder, not anything in Snape’s character. Then, on the very day of Dumbledore's death, she had seen something in Snape's heavy, almost sorrowful demeanor and in his eyes when he had told her to stay with Flitwick while he went to help... it had been the look of someone weak and wounded, in great pain. It had been just a moment, but it had been enough to make tears and worry well up within her, and had renewed her trust in him just moments before he went to carry out Dumbledore's plan for his own demise.

Hermione’s thoughts turned to every memory she had of the professor and she analyzed every action, every word, and every sneer she could remember. She still felt sorry for setting his robes on fire first year, when he was protecting Harry all along, and for the night in the Shrieking Shack although she could find no excuse for his unreasonable behavior then. She had often wondered that he had lost his composure so completely that night. He had to be the most cunning and careful of spies to survive double crossing Voldemort, and he was certainly intelligent. How could his hatred of Sirius have affected him to the point of insanity?

Harry being there had not helped things, of course, but to be ready to send an innocent man to the Dementors while setting a murderous servant of the rising Dark Lord free, all over an old school rivalry, was ludicrous. Only, Hermione supposed that Snape had not known that Wormtail was there because he would not give them a chance to explain.

In any case, Hermione would not have jumped in front of Snape without a good reason. There was something else Snape was not telling her. From what she could remember, she had not been particularly concerned about him during the battle. If anyone was prepared to face Death Eaters and Voldemort, it was Snape. It seemed that she had seen Harry fall, believed that Snape was the only one who could face Voldemort, and sacrificed herself to give him that chance.

Hermione could not help being impressed with her own courage, but when she remembered the Death Eaters closing in on her it made sense. She would not have had a chance against them, and she could remember losing her wand. She certainly would have died anyway if she had not jumped in front of Snape. She was not quite as noble as everyone thought, but she was practical.

If Snape was hiding something else about the battle, she might never learn it. He had years of experience using Occlumency and he would be able to keep anything he wanted hidden even while showing her his memories. She was unable to tell from her own disjointed memories just how much time had elapsed between each fuzzy image. The longer she reviewed them, the more certain she became that there was more to the event than Snape had shown her.

Luna and Neville were arguing about something, which was unusual. Luna’s voice was as light as ever, but Neville sounded annoyed.

“Look, let’s just get some breakfast. I’m starving,” he said.

“All right, Neville,” said Luna, “but you mustn’t be angry, you’ll upset Hermione. Goodbye, Hermione!”

“'Bye, Hermione,” said Neville, sounding tired. They left.

It was not long before Hermione had another visitor. Ron was back, this time with just Ginny. They both seemed upset and did not speak much, though from what they did say Hermione gathered that they were hiding from the rest of their family. Hermione was very sorry for her friends. She wanted to weep with them and hug them and let out some of her sorrow. It was exceptionally painful to have them sitting there, reminding her of Fred and all the others. She was ashamed of how little she thought of them, but with no outlet for her emotions it was easier to forget.

Suddenly, Ginny stood up, folded her arms, and sighed.

“I’ll go find Mum,” she said, sounding much more tired than Neville had.

Ron stayed in his seat, resting his chin on his fists. When Ginny left he sighed loudly and rubbed his hands over his face. Hermione noticed movement in the doorway behind him.

“Oh!”

Ron’s head shot up and he looked to the door. The voice sounded familiar.

“I’m sorry, Ron! I was just coming to visit Hermione. I heard about what happened.”

It was Padma Patil. She came into the room, but hung back from the bed.

“They say she can hear us?”

“Yeah,” said Ron solemnly.

“Hi, Hermione,” called Padma softly. “Parvati says ‘hi’ as well. She’s still recovering. Well, she’s already recovered but they’re making her stay in bed. She hates it, but I told her she’s lucky that she can get up at all. I mean . . . I’m sorry,” Padma sounded embarrassed, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

There was a long pause.

“Hermione’s going to be okay,” said Ron. “I know it.”

He touched Hermione's hand lightly.

“She’ll probably figure it out before Snape does. Wish I could see the look on his face when you tell him, Hermione.”

Padma finally grew brave enough to draw near the bed.

“I hope you do, Hermione, it would be great. I mean . . . it will be great no matter who figures it out, of course.”

She laughed nervously. “But it would be great to get back at Snape, you know... because of how he always said you were a know-it-all.”

Hermione found herself becoming annoyed with Padma. Just when she and Ron were alone again, Padma had to come barging in to gape at her. Ron had been so sweet that day before Snape had interrupted him. They had never spoken openly about what they wanted out of their relationship if they survived the war, and she needed to hear him talk, even if she could not yet answer. She wanted him to tell her that he loved her, that he was sorry, and that he could not wait for her to be well so they could make a go of it at last. Ron would not say anything of the sort with Harry in the room, let alone Padma Patil! Hermione would prefer watching Ron sit in silence than listening to her inane comments.

“Where’s Harry?” Padma asked.

“Meeting with the Minister,” said Ron. “They want him to do an interview, but he’s refused to go through the Prophet.”

“Why?” Padma’s eyes widened.

“Well, they don’t deserve it, do they?” said Ron loudly.

“I don’t know.” she said, “Shouldn’t people know what happened? If he doesn’t tell them, the Prophet will get it from someone else and it will only be worse.”

Ron grunted.

“I suppose he’ll negotiate something in the end.”

“I would do an interview,” she said, “except that I don’t really have anything to say. I was trapped in a classroom for most of it.”

Ron only grunted again.

“Ron? Oh, hello, Padma.”

Another voice called from the door. It was Ginny again.

“Mum and Dad want us to come to lunch.”

Ron squeezed Hermione’s hand and started to go.

“See you later, Hermione,” he said.

“It was good to see you, Hermione,” said Padma. “I’m sure you’ll be better soon, you look so well today.”

Padma hurried out after Ron and Ginny.

Hermione watched them go resentfully. If only she could get up and run after them. She knew they were grieving, but at least they could move. Hermione did not notice the next visitor until he was halfway to the bedside. It was Harry. He sat down and covered his face with his hands much as Ron had earlier. Finally he looked up at her and let his hands fall to his lap.

“Hermione, I really wish you could tell me what to do. I know I usually didn’t listen to your advice, but there were a lot of times that I should have.”

Thank you, Harry, thought Hermione, wishing she could hug him.

“I just don’t know what to say to Ginny,” said Harry. “At least Ron and I understand one another. He doesn’t want to talk now. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about her... her pain. She ignores everyone, but now she’s mad because she thinks I’ve been avoiding her.”

Harry sighed.

“I know what it’s like to lose family,” he said. “She’s not the only one who’s lost someone! Lupin and Tonks were like family to me, and so was Fred. I try to talk to her, but we end up arguing. I try to touch her, and she pulls away. Then she tells me I’m avoiding her!”

She's angry, and she feels guilty, thought Hermione. She can’t have a happy relationship with you when her brother is dead. She can’t be glad you’re alive without remembering that Fred is not.

“Well, I am avoiding her now,” said Harry. “I can’t stand to be around the family when they’re all together. He was my best friend’s brother – he was my friend too! Mr. and Mrs. Weasley look terrible.”

Harry stood up and paced quickly.

“Then there’s everyone acting like idiots around me,” he said. “They all want to know how I survived the Killing Curse again. They’ll walk right up and start talking about how amazing it is that I survived with Ron and Ginny standing right there wishing their brother was still alive.

“I told everyone that it must have been the Elder Wand, that it was the ‘power the Dark Lord knows not’. I was its master and it wouldn’t kill me. Hermione, when the curse hit me I – well, I think I was sort of dead. I saw Dumbledore! I talked to him. He told me . . . well, it turns out I was a Horcrux.”

Harry shuddered.

“That’s what Snape was supposed to tell me! It must’ve been what those memories were about. It was Dumbledore who told me I wasn’t actually dead yet, though I should have been. He had been counting on my sacrificing myself, and said it was the only way to get rid of the part of Voldemort’s soul that was in me – in my scar. He accidentally made me a Horcrux when he tried to kill me the first time, Hermione.”

Harry shuddered again.

“Then he said the reason I was alive was that Voldemort took my blood, and my mother’s protection with it, and it ‘tethered me to life’ somehow. That it doubled the bond between us. He didn’t seem to think my being the true master of the Elder Wand had much to do with it, but that’s the story I’m telling. Hermione, I already have reporters storming Hogwarts to talk to me, and I don’t want anyone to find out that I was Voldemort’s Horcrux. It was bad enough when the whole school thought I was the heir of Slytherin.”

Harry was silent for a while.

“We talked a lot. Dumbledore told me that he had wanted the Hallows when he was younger. He told me that he and Snape planned his death, and that Snape was supposed to have gotten the Elder Wand. He knew that Snape was still alive. I wonder if he saw Dumbledore too. Dumbledore – didn’t seem very sorry about Snape almost dying. He just said it didn’t work out like he intended.”

Hermione hoped Harry would continue, but he was silent for a long moment.

“Dumbledore told me I was the better man. He cried. He told me about Adriana and Grindelwald and why he would never be the Minister of Magic because he was afraid of the power.”

Hermione felt the silence weigh on her ears as she waited for Harry to continue.

“Well, after a long time he told me I had better go back and see what I could do about Voldemort. Then I woke up on the ground and I saw Snape going for Voldemort. I saw him hit you both with the curse and I jumped up and disarmed him. The Elder Wand was already mine, and I killed him with it. Although, I’m not sure that it was my curse that did it. You know I’d never used it before. It was green, and it felt powerful, but McGonagall and some others hit him at the same time.”

Harry came to stand next to Hermione.

“Hermione, you’re the only person I’ve told the whole truth. Not even Ron knows I saw – or dreamed – Dumbledore. Everybody’s got enough to deal with right now. I think it’s enough for them to know that Voldemort’s gone without knowing exactly how it happened. I just needed to tell someone. I need someone else to know the truth. That’s the true story, whatever you might have heard from everyone else.”

Harry paused again, but before he could speak again an irritated voice came from the doorway.

“You will do nothing of the sort! Miss Granger is to remain at Hogwarts while I attend her. Madam Pomfrey can assist me. Don’t worry - you need not spare any Healers for her!”

Snape swooped into the room on the heels of a Healer with a clipboard.

“I am only following orders, Professor Snape,” said the Healer stiffly. “Any patients requiring long-term treatment are to be moved to St. Mungo’s within the next two days. While your expertise is appreciated and perhaps needed, it would be better if she were under constant surveillance, which you cannot provide even with Madam Pomfrey’s assistance.”

“You will have little say in the matter,” retorted Snape. “Miss Granger’s only known guardians cannot be found and she is now a ward of Hogwarts. She will stay.”

“You do not have the authority to make that decision!” exclaimed the Healer. “Most of the world still thinks you’re dead! You’re a known Death Eater! If she’s a ward of Hogwarts, then the Headmistress will decide where she goes.”

Though Hermione’s vision was blurry, she could imagine the expression on Snape’s face and gave the Healer credit for sheer backbone.

“She stays,” said Snape, after a deadly pause. “The Headmistress will agree with me.”

“Yes, she will,” rang McGonagall’s crisp voice before the Healer could reply.

“I’m sorry for the confusion,” she said, stepping into the room. “I should have made it clear that Miss Granger will not be moved to St. Mungo’s. I have every confidence in Severus’ abilities. I could not put her life in more capable hands. Your own colleagues have told me they can do nothing for her.”

The Healer ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

“Very well, though it’s still my opinion that she can only receive the attention she needs at St. Mungo’s.”

“She will not be neglected,” said McGonagall. “You may send a Healer to check on her as often as once a week. In fact, I may insist upon it.”

The Healer only nodded curtly and made his exit. Beside Hermione, Harry cleared his throat.

“Professor McGonagall?” asked Harry, waiting for her attention. “Since Hermione is of age, shouldn’t she get to decide where she stays? I mean - maybe someone should ask her.”

Snape’s dark figure seemed to loom larger in the background.

“Potter! Inflated though your estimation of Miss Granger’s intellect may be, she is certainly intelligent enough to know that St. Mungo’s offers her no hope for recovery!”

Hermione could sense Harry tense up. Oh, Harry, she thought, please don’t do this!

“So she’s supposed to believe that you know more than all the Healers at St. Mungo’s?”

Snape was certainly sneering now. Hermione could hear it in his voice.

“I know more about the Dark Arts than even you could imagine, Potter,” he said. “I spent years watching the Dark Lord devise curses for his enemies.”

Snape was standing over them now.

“So, yes,” he said. “I know more than all the Healers at St. Mungo’s in this particular instance. However, Miss Granger will not have 'all the Healers at St. Mungo’s' on her case. She will be lucky if she gets one or two.”

“Why can’t you treat her there?”

“Harry,” McGonagall intoned in warning. “You will stop interrogating Professor Snape at once! I am the one who made the decision. The Healers at St. Mungo’s believe there is no hope of recovery and they want to treat Hermione with spells that may interfere with the effects of the curse. Professor Snape and I believe that by watching her for any further effects we may find a cure. If she remains here she will be watched more carefully than anyone at a busy hospital could manage.”

Hermione knew that Harry was only being difficult because he still did not like Snape. Hermione certainly wanted to stay at Hogwarts, and she would have thought Harry would prefer her to stay as well. If she was going to be stuck lying in a bed, she would much rather be in the familiar castle than at sterile, lonely St. Mungo’s.

“I just think that before you decide what you’re going to do with Hermione you should ask her first,” Harry said stubbornly.

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged away, saying a quiet, “'Bye, Hermione.”

Snape and McGonagall were still standing in the room. McGonagall walked over to Hermione and patted her arm. Hermione was vaguely irritated that everyone kept doing that. McGonagall went without a word, leaving Snape standing at the foot of the bed.

He looked up and said suddenly, “Do you wish to go to St. Mungo’s?”

No!

Hermione felt a wave of relief flood her mind as he nodded and came to sit beside her.

“Miss Granger,” he began, “I do not know if I can help you. If I cannot, you may remain as you are forever . . . or face death. I cannot promise you your life back, only the smallest hope of it. Do you understand?”

Yes, Hermione thought faintly.