It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Hermione looked around the dark forest in frustration. All of the trees looked alike. She stubbornly refused to admit that she had lost her way. She couldn’t be lost. It was unthinkable. This was just too important for her to mess up by getting disoriented. Besides, no one knew where she was because she hadn’t dared get Harry’s hopes up in case her research was mistaken and she failed so she had to figure out where she was because there wouldn’t be any rescue.
Hours spent in the library surrounded by books had led to this moment, after all. Now she was roaming around these woods in north eastern England on her own with nothing but her wand, a few supplies, and an ancient text. The woods were heavy with magic, old magic that made the air thick and breathing difficult, and she couldn’t even do a simple lumos, which meant she had to rely on her wits instead of magic. She was glad she’d thought ahead and brought a Muggle torch, but that didn’t help when she was lost in the forest.
It felt like she was going in circles. She’d been walking for over an hour but still hadn’t located the clearing that was mentioned in the book. The logical part of her mind reminded her that the book was centuries old, the pages yellowed with age and the text faded so that it was barely readable. The clearing might not even exist anymore. She had to believe, though, because it was too dangerous to lose hope.
The war had escalated in the nine months since Dumbledore’s death. With him gone, Voldemort felt that he had free reign on the wizarding world, and it was feared by many that he was about to venture out into the Muggle world as well. The members of the Order were holding their own, but it wasn’t enough. Hermione could see their numbers reducing after each new battle, could see that it wouldn’t be long before they were so outnumbered that not even strength and conviction would mean anything, and knew it was only a matter of time before Voldemort succeeded in his plans for domination.
Before that happened, however, Harry had to die, which was something Hermione refused to allow to happen. She would sacrifice herself to save Harry without hesitation, but she couldn’t die knowing that the world would fall into chaos and ruin should Voldemort win. If she died, it would be saving the world, not letting it fall at Voldemort’s feet.
There were times that being stubborn and focused worked in her favor. Even in these dark times, she clung to hope and forced herself to be optimistic. When Harry got quiet and broody, she gave him the kick in the arse he needed. When Ron worried about his family, she reminded him how strong they all were and quoted percentages that meant nothing but gave Ron hope. They worked together as they attempted to find the horcruxes, traveling all over Britain and into Ireland to try to locate the tools necessary to defeat Voldemort.
And during it all, she researched. She had always found answers in books and couldn’t believe this would be any different. When they took a break from their search, she went to Hogwarts, which was eerily quiet without students walking through the halls, and holed up in the library. She went through Dumbledore’s private collection, searching for anything that might be helpful, and refused to accept that it was hopeless.
It was in the library during a recent break that she’d found the book that had brought her here to this forest. The book had found her, it seemed, which helped convince her it had to help. She didn’t believe in divination, despite Ron’s uncanny ability to predict some things so accurately, and wasn’t one to believe in such intangible things as fate and destiny. However, there had been a feeling of energy when she’d touched the dusty old book, and it had opened right to the ritual that had finally given her real hope.
It was foolish to put so much faith into a spell that was centuries old and wasn’t mentioned in any text she’d ever read. It was an ambiguous ritual, too, which automatically meant she shouldn’t even consider performing it. It hadn’t left her mind for days, though, and she could have sworn that she heard Dumbledore whispering encouragement as she began to research it more fully.
She didn’t know exactly what it would do. If it went as she had translated, which might not be entirely accurate as the words were old English and many terms weren’t recognizable at all, it would give them assistance they needed to win. She knew it sounded ridiculous that a book older than the very school where they learned magic could somehow predict what was happening now, but sometimes you just had to believe because the alternative was losing hope. If this didn’t work, no one would even have to know she’d tried.
Harry and Ron thought she was at Hogwarts because it was safer not to involve them in her experiment. She had left a letter to each of them, in case she didn’t survive this ritual, but hadn’t given them the coordinates of where she could be found. If she failed, they had to forget for now and focus on winning. She knew it was selfish, but she’d never claimed to be perfect. Her faults were many, probably numbering far more than her virtues these days, and it didn’t matter to her that it wasn’t fair to risk her life on something that might not even work when they needed her because it might work. That chance was worth the risk.
The bag that held the few supplies she needed was becoming heavier as she walked through the forest. She groaned when she felt raindrops on her face. She looked up but only saw glimpses of sky through the thick tree branches overhead. She shivered as she pulled her arms around her and kept walking. The light mist soon developed into a full rain that soaked through her coat and made the ground muddy. When she passed a particular log that was resting against the trunk of a tree, she stopped walking and pushed her wet hair away from her face.
She’d passed that same log twice, at least. Hermione sighed and gripped her torch tightly as she squared her shoulders and took off in another direction. It was getting cold now that it was raining, and she shivered as a breeze blew through the forest. She checked to make sure that the book was protected and resisted the impulse to just stop and admit defeat. There would be no giving up, though. The alternative was far worse than anything she might endear in this forest, after all.
The conditions were miserable for walking through an unknown wood. The mud stuck to her trainers, which made her wish she’d worn boots, and her coat was heavy from the weight of the water as it soaked through the material. She was cold and frustrated, and her shoulder hurt from where the bag pulled it down. Still, she kept focused on finding the clearing mentioned in the text and ignored the logical voice that she usually listened to rather neurotically.
It was a good mile before she realized the forest had started to change. The trees looked the same, but now there were flowers and weeds scattered amidst the undergrowth that she knew hadn’t been there before. Hermione focused her torch on the path and kept walking, stumbling on rocks that were in her way and doing her best to avoid the large tree roots that would suddenly poke up beneath the dirt. It was another half hour, at least, before she found herself entering a small clearing.
The rain had drifted off into a steady drizzle that was far easier to deal with than heavy drops. She huddled by a tree and used her body to protect the book as she opened it to the pages marked and read the description of the clearing. The one she had found wasn’t as big as it sounded in the text, but she could see a large tree with the base described so she had to hope that this was it. She could feel the magic in the air in a way that wasn’t normal. Magic wasn’t usually noticeable, even to those were more sensitive, but the Forbidden Forest back at Hogwarts had a feeling to it. That was nothing compared to how this forest felt, though.
Hermione looked around the clearing and tried to decide if this was the right place. If it wasn’t, the ritual might not work or it could be even more dangerous. Magic was unpredictable in this environment and not easily controlled. For the first time since arriving here, she wondered if she should have asked Harry and Ron to come with her. She knew she couldn’t have, though, because the world needed them. It needed her, too, of course, but she wasn’t as important, which meant she was expendable if this might help Harry win.
As she debated, she noticed a ring of flowers near the trunk of a tree that wasn’t as large as the others. It was a younger tree, she decided, which meant it certainly shouldn’t be in the sketch that was in the book. She stared at the picture and shivered for a reason that had nothing to do with the cold when she ran her finger over the circle of flowers on the opened page.
This was the place.
It was best not to think about the implications of the text having such a sketch or seeming to predict events that wouldn’t happen for many centuries after it was written. That was something she’d think about later, that she’d examine and research to try to prove some logical reason it happened before she’d believe that divination could actually be accurate. For now, she had to clear her mind and prepare for the ritual.
The ground was muddy beneath her as she sat down but she didn’t notice. Hermione closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, letting them out slowly as she let go of everything outside this moment. Once she was focused, she opened her bag and removed the ingredients for the ritual. She went about everything methodically. There was comfort in routine, she knew, and it calmed her racing pulse as she slowly combined the elements necessary.
When everything was ready, she removed the small dagger she’d brought along and started to murmur the words of the ritual from memory. The wind began to pick up and the leaves rustled above her as her voice became stronger and more confident. It was difficult to breathe as the air seemed to become too thick with magic for her to catch her breath. Her hair whipped around her face, wet locks getting in her mouth as she ignored everything around her except for the spell she had memorized and the small cauldron that was starting to smoke before her.
She put all of her hopes into the words she spoke, knowing this could be the difference between success and defeat. Tears fell silently down her face as she poured everything that she was into the words to give them strength and power. Words were just words without the magic and the faith to give them life, after all.
The blade was cold against her palm but she didn’t even stammer as she pushed it until it broke through her skin. Her blood began to trickle from the cut, and she shuddered as she felt something in the air seem to press against her chest. She kept talking, though, and repeated the words over and over as her blood dripped into the cauldron. It didn’t matter that she had no idea what would happen or that she might not survive the ritual to find out. All that mattered was the text that had found her, of the words that mentioned assistance to the side of light in the darkest of hours, of the belief that this ritual would help Harry save the world.
Finally, she reached the end of the spell and whispered, “So mote it be.”
There was a moment of silence, complete silence where she didn’t hear the wind, rain, or even her own heartbeat. She didn’t breathe as she stared ahead of her, unseeing as time seemed to stop. Suddenly, a bright flash of light and rush of power knocked her back. She fell onto the muddy ground, the air knocked out of her from the force of the magic, and she gasped as her body seemed to burn from the inside. Her eyes watered, her throat hurt, and she shuddered as her back arched off the ground.
Soft whispers filled the air, words spoken in a variety of languages she didn’t even recognize, and the air seemed to caress her as if there were dozens of hands touching her face, neck, and body. When she thought she heard Dumbledore’s proud whisper in her ear, Well done, Miss Granger. Very well done, she opened her eyes and stared at the glimpse of dark sky above. She couldn’t see anything, blinking as if she’d been staring into a fire for too long, and gasping as she struggled to catch her breath.
Then, it was over.
The wind stopped blowing and the rain stopped. The pressure on her chest stopped and the whispers and ghostly touches faded away. Hermione panted as she sucked in deep breaths of air. It was dark and the air was still heavy, but she felt different. Her skin tingled and there was an odd awareness to everything around her that she’d not felt before. She finally sat up and frowned as she looked at the trees, shaking her head as she heard soft murmurs in her ears along with a dull ringing.
After the ringing stopped, she reached for her torch and turned it on. She aimed it at the forest, needing to make sure she was alone even as she knew she must be. There was no logical explanation for what had just happened, which confused her at the same time it intrigued her. She felt different, but it was more like a prickling of goosebumps over her skin and the feeling like something had changed that she couldn’t quite explain.
It was as she moved the torch to focus on the cauldron that had fallen over and spilled that she caught sight of something covered in mud and leaves. It seemed to be moving, which made her reach for her wand even though she knew it was useless in this forest. Hermione slowly crawled past the smoking cauldron to investigate the moving shape. She pointed her torch at it, realizing immediately that it was a person. Her eyes widened as she dropped the torch in the mud and stared at the shivering figure.
It gasped as if in pain, which brought her out of her shocked daze. She reached forward hesitantly and touched a shoulder. There was a spark that shot through her at that contact, and she withdrew her hand as if she’d been burned. It whimpered and moved closer to her as if seeking that warmth again.
“Hello?” she whispered softly as she touched its shoulder gently before she began to remove the leaves and mud from its face.
It moved again, and she blushed as she glanced down and realized it was a boy. A naked boy. Her gaze instantly went back to his face, which was still covered in muddy leaves. She took off her coat, not caring that it was cold, and put it around his waist to cover his bits, which were quite obvious even if he was muddy. There was no time for embarrassment, though, because he was shaking and making soft whining noises as if it hurt to breathe.
Hermione ripped the bottom of her shirt and moved the material over a nearby rock that was wet. She wiped the mud from his cheek and forehead before she moved the fabric over his nose. She frowned as she stared at the face that was emerging from the dirt and grime. He looked familiar, which was really ridiculous. When she started to pull her hand back, he moved suddenly. He grabbed her wrist and held her hand against his face as he slowly opened his eyes.
He blinked up at her. His voice was hoarse as he whispered, “Who are you?”
“You shouldn’t talk,” she scolded softly. She wanted to pick up her torch and get a good look at him because she couldn’t place him when his face was in shadows.
“Where am I?” he struggled to say before he coughed and shook beneath her coat.
“We’re in a forest that doesn’t have a name,” she told him quietly, feeling rather stupid despite the honesty of her words. “I---I’m not really sure how you got here.”
“Cold,” he whispered as he moved closer to her, still holding her hand against him.
She reached down with her other hand and picked up her torch. She aimed it at his face and gasped as her eyes widened. “No. This can’t….Maybe I’m hallucinating,” she murmured to herself as she stared down at the face that was now very familiar.
He looked up at her and blinked before he frowned. “Granger?” he asked hoarsely.
“Diggory,” she said softly as her mind reeled. There was no way this was happening. She must have bumped her head when she fell backward. That was the only logical explanation. Cedric Diggory was dead. He’d been dead for several years. He certainly wasn’t lying naked on the ground in the middle of an unknown forest.
Oh God. What had she done?
“Why am I naked?” His words were spoken slowly, as if it hurt him to talk, but she stared in surprise as what very well could have been a smile crossed his lips. It faded as he looked at her. “You’re not you. Older.”
“What?” she asked dumbly, cringing as she wondered when she’d become so bloody stupid. Oh, right. It was some time during the bloody ritual that brought a dead boy back to life somehow. She reached for his arm suddenly and felt his wrist for a pulse, visions of Inferi making her need to check. Yes, right. Alive.
“I’m tired,” he murmured as he blinked up at her. “Feels different. Cold, too. What happened?”
It took him awhile to speak, but she was thankful as it gave her time to think. “It’s complicated,” she finally said. “Very complicated. I don’t know---Can you walk?”
“I think so,” he told her before he coughed again. “Talking hurts.”
“Just nod once for yes or twice for no,” she instructed as she tried to regain control of the situation. There would be time for freaking out later. Right now, she had to deal with the fact that she’d somehow managed to perform an ancient ritual that had her feeling odd and had brought someone back to life, which just wasn’t done even in the darkest of magic. It had said the ritual was created to help the side of the light, though, and she couldn’t believe she’d messed up the ritual. She’d been precise, after all.
No, whatever the bloody thing translated to just hadn’t bothered to mention that the help might mean whatever it was that had brought Cedric to her. He certainly wasn’t an Inferi, as he seemed to be somewhat how she remembered from their few interactions during her fourth year. Hermione knew this wasn’t possible, but it somehow was, which was just too much to think about when her head hurt and she was cold and wet.
“We need to leave the forest,” she told him, almost speaking to herself. “We can go back to Hogwarts and then I can figure out what happened.” She looked at him and saw that he’d sat up and was picking leaves off of his body with a confused frown. “I can’t transfigure anything in this forest to give you something to wear but my coat is pretty long. It should, uh, cover you until we can get back to Hogwarts. Okay?”
He stared at her and slowly nodded once. She sighed and muttered to herself about stupid books and ancient spells as she turned her back towards him so he could put her coat on in privacy. He looked the same as he had when he’d gone into the maze three years ago, save for the naked and muddy part. She looked at the book that had brought her there and picked it up. She couldn’t let Voldemort get hold of this ritual. It might never work again, but it was too dangerous to risk.
Hermione cringed as she bit her lip and ripped the pages from the book. She felt stupid for crying over destroying the text, and knew it was probably the entire situation that was causing the silent tears, but she couldn’t remember ever tearing a book by choice. She had notes with various parts of the ritual, enough to research without giving every step for repetition, but it was still difficult to rip the pages into dozens of little pieces. She scattered the pieces in the wind and jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
Cedric looked at her curiously but didn’t say anything. He was still muddy but her coat covered him well enough, even if his feet were bare. Hermione felt guilty for bringing him back to this world, and then felt even more guilty for hoping that he, somehow, was what the ritual meant would help them win. She picked up the cauldron and put it back into her bag and gathered everything off the ground, not wanting to leave anything just in case.
Once she had it all collected, she shivered and took Cedric’s hand. “We’ll try this way,” she told him as she led him out of the clearing and back into the forest. His fingers curled around hers, and she felt the same spark she’d felt when she first touched him. She was obviously tired, she decided. This time, she didn’t get lost. The forest seemed to lead her down the right path, and she looked around as she heard soft murmurs as if the forest was speaking to her.
When they reached the edge of the forest, she faced Cedric. “I’m going to Apparate us now,” she told him softly. He shivered and looked as if he might not be able to stand much longer, far too tired for the walk they’d just made. Coming back to life probably took a lot out of a person, she figured.
She focused and moved her arms around him, closing her eyes as they both shuddered slightly at the touch. His arms moved around her as he pulled her closer, and she felt his breath against her neck, which was definite proof that he was alive and not some sort of Inferi or walking dead. She looked at the forest one last time, trying to listen to the whispers in the night before she knew it was time to go. As she Apparated them to Hogwarts, she murmured, “God, how am I going to explain this to Harry and Ron.”
End