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Post by HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER! on Jul 22, 2011 22:13:03 GMT -5
The book has a burgundy red leather cover, with no writing on its binding, front, or back cover. Inside are two-hundred parchment pages, slightly yellowed. It is about the size of a Moleskine notebook. Any writing is in neat handwriting, cursive, and in black ink on both sides of the pages. Photographs are either clipped from newspapers or actual pictures and are taped inside.-- to my allies: may you fight the good fight, always.
to my enemies: may your descent be quick and permanent.
to my friends: may you never lose your way.
to Ronald Weasley, may I find you again as I left you someday.
to Harry Potter, may you know that you were never alone. to all those who read this book,
Ten years ago, a great, yet young wizard was killed by a great, yet terrible master of darkness. His friends and allies were slaughtered without mercy, and those remaining were left to pick up the pieces and continue living, although in fear and persecuted.
Those who knew Harry Potter, whether this was in disdain, friendship, or love, mourn his death; I am a part of those unhappy ranks. For a decade I have avoided interacting with my fellow wizards and witches, hiding out of fear, my face plastered on wanted posters across the United Kingdom. I have returned to finish the work my friends and I started those many years ago. But so that the time before this retched regime is not forgotten, I write down my memories of those who lived, laughed, and loved back then; dead, alive, or lost. It is not only so that I do not forget, or for me to live through this period of my life one last time before I perish. It is so that no one else will forget. So that the world can live as we did before Voldemort destroyed everything we knew.
If you happen upon this and I am unable to continue telling these stories, most likely through death, I urge you to take it and share it with as many others as you possibly can. We can not let these memories slip away into nonexistence.
As you read, consider what I write not how it could have been, but as how it was. I stretch not the truth; he is as deeply important to me as I describe.
Sincerely,
Hermione Jean Granger this journal is dedicated to a Mr. Kistin Cross and his charge; if not for your kindness as a stranger to friend, I would not have had to courage to recall what I write here
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Post by HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER! on Jul 23, 2011 21:35:14 GMT -5
pg 3. 1991, until August My first year at Hogwarts, in a way, came in like a lion, then morphed into a lamb, then to a lion again, only to end up as a lamb once more.
Confused? I certainly was.
Growing up the single daughter of two Muggle dentists, I attended Muggle school, ate Muggle food, and had my share of Muggle problems and joys. Bagshot Pre-Prep and Prepratory Schools in Surrey gave me experience in boarding since I was seven years old; I could not even fathom needing to draw on this experience by attending another school. From the time I was that small, I assumed that I would go on to another independent boarder when I was thirteen and continue my studies through university and become a teacher.
My life was planned, and nothing was to alter it.
The day I received by Hogwarts letter was just a month shy of when I was to arrive there, a hot mid-July day when I was eleven years old. It was hand-delivered, as is common with Muggleborn students since an owl through the window was not a common occurrence for your average dentist. My parents instructed me to go to my room while they spoke to this woman about this 'crackpot' school. Instead, I crouched on the landing of the stairs, ear cocked in the direction of their hushed voices. I remember something about magic... I was excited.
After a hour of heated discussion, my mother called me from my room. Her voice was always so shrill... like some great eagle screeching. Practically sprinting to the kitchen, they asked me if I had ever done anything I could not explain. After telling a story about being able to levitate pens and pencils when I was stressed, I was practically shoved on the Hogwarts Express. My parents, bless them, were not ones to let my potential go wasted, even if it meant shipping me off to a world I did not know.
I had no idea what I was up against.
On board the Hogwarts Express, vine wand with dragon heartstring core in hand and my face stuffed in so many reference books on spells and magical history... I had sealed my fate. -- |
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Post by HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER! on Jul 24, 2011 21:14:52 GMT -5
pg 4 1991 until Halloween The first I remember of Harry and Ron is of them through the frosted glass of the sliding doors inside the train to Hogwarts. I was searching for Neville Longbottom's lost toad, Trevor, and in their compartment there were mounds of candy and pastries. He has gold, and I figured that since he was THE Harry Potter, he would have some sort of wealth. I am admittedly embarrassed when I think that the first thing I did alongside them was belittle Ron when he could not turn his rat yellow.
I came to realize that once I stepped foot on Hogwart's grounds, I was thoroughly alone. Most of the other incoming students have had magic ingrained in their lives from birth by parents and relatives, the ability to levitate pens a fact of reality to them. To my family, I was odd. Special. But I did not the edge they so wanted to believe that I had.
I made up for this lack of exposure to the magical world, I made up for in knowledge. Hogwarts, a History and many other books as heavy as I was became my holy books. My pride in knowing absolutely everything I could about magic swelled, as well as my ego. I was thoroughly convinced that I knew more than any other first-year there, and was quick to make that as clear as possible. From my studying, I found that Gryffindor was the most decorated house.
Needless to say, I was ecstatic that the Sorting Hat put me there, although at the time I had no idea the significance of that decision.
The courage and bravery this house was famous for, however, was not used to my own benefit. I was known as that big-haired bossy girl with the large front teeth who corrected everyone when they did not want to be. I was ostracized, and when I overheard Ron Weasley days after I had showed him proper wand technique say that "she's a nightmare, honestly". I, well, lost it.
I may have been following both Ron and harry around like some sort of lonely puppy dog, thinking and believing that this was it was like to be 'friends' with someone... that blow crushed me. I had no friends, I was a muggleborn... I was an outsider, and I saw no possible way I could ever fit in. -- |
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Post by HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER! on Jul 26, 2011 20:36:16 GMT -5
pg 5 1991 - Halloween My first major holiday at Hogwarts, Halloween, was miserable for me. I spent the majority of the afternoon and evening, spent by other attending their final classes and feasting on sweets, sobbing in the girl’s lavatory over Ronald dubbing me a ‘nightmare’ to be around. Sure, I had thrown myself at the pair, being a part of their earliest Hogwarts experiences such as flying lessons and lunches at the Great Hall; I had ruined my own chance of becoming their real friend by my incessant nagging, even once reporting them to Percy for being outside of their dormitories at night. I was no friend to them, but someone who they dreaded seeing in the hallways. The big-haired little girl who tattled.
A funny thing, danger is. In my collective experience thus far, I have come to the conclusion that no other state of being can bring people closer together.
Professor Quirrell let in a troll, dangerous yet stupid creatures, into the castle that night. Through the panic that ran through the student body and the prefects led masses of children to their respective dorms, I was not alerted of the hazard. My sobbing stopped when I heard the room around me rumble, the stone walls of the stall shaking. The beast had unwittingly entered the room, and to be frank it was not difficult to notice its presence. Instead of going through the actions I had been taught and what I had read, to escape and remove myself from the area, I froze. I sidled down the rows of toilets as the beast smashed the stone into pebbles in its attempt to find me. Like a young hind terrified by an oncoming car, I pinned myself against the back wall. My heart leapt into my throat, and I only hoped for a speedy and painless death...
That was, until I felt the monster groan in pain. There stood behind it the last two people I would have ever suspected, Harry and Ron, arms with metal piping and rock. Its attention was drawn away from me, but it was not until Harry stuck his own wand up its nostril and Ron clubbed it into unconsciousness using the levitation charm I was critical towards him about when I felt safe enough to move. When questioned about my disappearance, I lied to my professors, telling them I wished to confront and capture the creature myself and that the boys rescued me.
I consider this the first moment in which I was proud of myself at my stay in Hogwarts. For all the times I had scolded those two for fibbing, I did the same to put punishment on myself and off them. I was a true Gryffindor for the first time that moment, but what is more important is that we were then friends.
The two who I had badgered and tormented still came for me... I was in need, and I returned the favor. What I distinctly remember from that evening was the look we gave each other after all had been said and done; one we would share later on that year and countless others over the next seven years. I would describe it as a combination of disbelief that we had all survived, relief that we were able to talk and breathe and were not horribly maimed, and a deep happiness from knowing that we would only ever face these types of trials in this way, together.
After that night, we were a trio. Nothing would ever be the same. I would have had it any other way.
--
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