The Haunting of Hermione Granger
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, which is trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership over any of the characters, locations, or the world used in this story.
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“The thing you’ve been dreading….”
A dark face flashed and then melted into a puddle of bubbling liquid. The liquid turned to gold and suddenly it was surrounded by a black cauldron.
“You took everything from me…”
The voice was louder now. Louder and more sinister.
Lights flickered as Hogwarts came into focus in front of Hermione. She was running through a cavernous hallway, walls exploded around her as she ran. She ran faster… Ron. She had to find Ron. She flew down the main hall staircase and saw bones strewn across the floor all around her.
“RON!” she cried out. “Where are you?”
“He’s not coming back…” hissed the voice.
“No!” yelled Hermione. “I can save him!”
“Save him?” laughed the voice. “How can you save him when you couldn’t even save us?”
Another light flashed and suddenly Hermione was in the great hall. She looked up and screamed. In front of her, bodies littered the floor. Hermione ran to them and her heart jumped as she saw a man’s body in front of her. The man had red hair.
She ran to him and turned him over.
“Fred?”
Hermione recoiled as the lifeless body of Fred Weasley began to rise. She jumped back and looked around. Now all the bodies were rising. She looked closer and gasped. She knew them. She saw Lupin, Tonks, and even Lavender Brown. They all were walking slowly towards her, their faces ravaged by decay.
“Why Hermione?” the corpses groaned as they closed in around her. “Why didn’t you save us?”
“I tried!” she yelled back. “I never wanted any of you to die.”
“LIAR!” screamed the ghastly voice.
The corpses were on top of her now but Hermione was frozen to the spot. Unable to move or draw her wand, all she could do was scream.
“The sixteenth of October…” whispered the voice.
The sky in the great hall was storming now and Hermione looked up to see a blinding light streak across the ceiling followed by an earsplitting, CRACK!
“Hermione! Hermione wake up!” shouted Ron.
Hermione looked up and saw her husband crouched over her, arms on her shoulders and a look of fear across his face.
“It’s okay,” said Ron. “It was just another nightmare. It’s not real.”
“Yeah…” said Hermione, “just a nightmare.”
But she wasn’t so sure. This was not the first time Hermione had woken up screaming. Ever since the battle of Hogwarts, she could no longer trust her dreams. Even though the battle was more than three years ago now, Hermione still wondered if there was more she could have done. Ron always told her that there was nothing else she could have done and that it was time to move on, but she doubted if she ever could.
“What time is it?” asked Hermione in a still shaking voice.
“Five-thirty in the morning according to this loud muggle box my dad got us.”
Hermione laughed.
“It’s called an alarm clock, Ron. I would have thought you would remember that after all the times Arthur writes to ask about how it’s working.”
“Yeah, well, any time my dad gets his hands on a muggle machine, I find it’s usually best to keep my distance.”
“Glad to see you finally learned your lesson,” said Hermione with a smirk.
“I guess you’re finally rubbing off on me,” said Ron as he smirked back.
“Oh get over here,” she laughed and pulled her husband close for a kiss. She felt closer to him this morning for some reason. She also felt a sense of dread, like now was the time to hold him closer than ever before.
The young couple took their time getting dressed and when they eventually made it down to the kitchen, the sun was starting to shine in through the kitchen window. They often talked about moving out to the countryside some day, but with Ron managing the joke shop and Hermione at the Ministry, it made more sense to stay in London.
The two of them had decided on an ornate muggle row house in South Kensington. Hermione thought it was a little much, but Ron, flush with galleons for the first time in his life, had insisted. Truth be told, Hermione was glad he did. She rather enjoyed the amenities and, nightmares aside, she and Ron had made a very nice life for themselves.
“Will Harry and Ginny be coming over for dinner this weekend?” Hermione asked as she flipped through the Daily Prophet. “I’m excited to try this new Halloween cookie recipe your mom sent me.”
“Not this weekend. Harry stopped by the shop yesterday. He said they got a tip on some of Greyback’s old followers. I guess they’ve gone abroad and have been attacking muggles in Albania. Harry’s taking a team there tonight to try and find them. Said he could be gone for weeks.”
“Right,” said Hermione. “I did hear about that. Just like the cowards that followed Fenrir Greyback to slink off to the shadows and attack people who can’t defend themselves.”
“Harry will sort them out.”
“I’m sure he will,” said Hermione. “What about Ginny?”
“She’s gone too,” replied Ron. “Some pre-season world tour with the Harpies.”
“But I thought they didn’t leave until the sixteenth?” asked Hermione.
Ron looked at her and laughed, “We really have to get you sleeping better… today is the 16th.”
Hermione laughed. The stress of work must be getting to her. Ron had given Percy a hard time when he asked if Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had any potions for anxiety, but now she was starting to wonder if Percy was onto something. She tried to shake the strange feeling she had but found it difficult. Resigned to the fact that day might not be her best, Hermione walked to the bathroom to get ready for the day.
Hermione usually left for work around seven-thirty. She liked to take the train as it gave her a chance to collect her thoughts before the hectic work day ahead. But today was different, she stepped outside and immediately felt a chill run through her body. She looked around but there was no one in sight.
Hermione shrugged and turned down the sidewalk towards the Tube station. She was a block away when she heard a pop directly behind her. She turned and jumped back.
“Oh!” she gasped.
“Hello, old friend,” said the young man who was now standing in front of her.
“You scared me half to death,” said Hermione, but now she was smiling. “It’s good to see you.”
“You as well,” said the man. Hermione noticed the tone of his voice was uncharacteristically dull.
“Is everything alright?” she asked him.
“Nothing’s alright,” the man replied coldly.
“What’s wrong? Do you need help?”
Hermione could see the color draining from the young man’s face in a way that gave his skin an almost transparent glow. He paused, seeming to consider something. Then his neck snapped and his eyes bulged.
“The only thing I need, Hermione… IS YOU!”
Hermione tried to draw her wand but he was ready. She saw a flash of red light and then everything went dark.
The young man bent down to feel her pulse. He smiled. There was another pop and they were gone.
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Ron, who was more than happy to apparate, usually left for work around nine fifty-eight to open the shop by ten. Those two hours in the morning were his time, Ron’s time. Sometimes he would sleep in, sometimes he would read, and sometimes he would meet George or Harry for breakfast or a quick game of Wizard’s Chess. Today was different.
As soon as Hermione left, Ron could have sworn he felt a chill sweeping through their flat. Something about the chill put him on edge, but he chalked it up to the strange muggle heating device in the basement and laid down on the couch for a mid-morning nap. He had barely laid his head down when there was a knock on the door.
Feeling slightly off-put by this early morning visitor, Ron grumbled his way to the door. He pulled it open but was surprised to see there was no one there.
“Strange…” he mumbled as he turned to shut the door. But this time, when he turned back inside, he wasn’t alone.
“Hello, Ronald,” said a young man from behind him.
“S---” Ron tried to respond but he felt a cold pass through his body and his vision swam. The walls around him pulsed as he tried to catch his balance. Ron stumbled, he tried to reach for his wand but it was stuck in his jeans pocket. Cursing muggle fashion, Ron turned to run. His foot planted but then gave way and he crashed to the floor.
“See you soon, Ronald,” said the man as Ron tried to keep him in focus.
Ron thought he saw the man bending down but now he couldn’t hold on any longer. He tried to scream but his consciousness slipped away before he could make a sound.
“AHHH!” screamed Ron as he suddenly woke. He tried to get his bearings and realized he was sprawled on the floor of their living room.
“Where’d you go you bastard!?” shouted Ron as he stumbled for his wand. He managed to retrieve it and cast Homenum Revelio. The spell told him there were no other humans in the house. Realizing that whatever, or whoever, attacked him, could easily be something other than human, Ron did a quick search of the house but found nothing.
He returned to the living room. Hermione, he thought. I’ve got to tell her what happened. He reached for the flu powder but a golden flash out of the corner of his eye stopped him. He turned and saw a galleon lying on the floor where he woke up. Ron bent down to pick it up. Something about this galleon seemed familiar, but what? Then he saw it.
“NOOOOOO!!!!”
Ron dropped to his knees and looked again at the galleon in horror. It was familiar, this was one of the old DA coins they had used to fool Dolores Umbridge back in their fifth year. Back then, Hermione had enchanted the coins to show the time of their next meeting. Yet, this time there was no date or time written on the coin. This time it was something different, something worse.
I have her, read the coin in small pink scribbles. If you want her back come now. Come alone.
“Come where!?” Ron yelled at the tiny piece of metal in his hand. As if on command, more pink scribbles formed to show an address. An address Ron knew all too well. An address that belonged to an old shop in Knockturn Alley.
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Holding the coin, Ron turned on the spot and was gone. A moment later he appeared with a pop in Knockturn Alley. Ron hadn’t been there since he and Harry had come to shut down Borgin and Burkes two years before. The shop was no longer there, but Ron knew the address by heart. He walked down the cobblestone alleyway looking for any sign of Hermione. He saw none, but the strange amount of fog filling the air put him on edge. Ron weaved his way through the empty streets until he found what he was looking for.
It can’t be, he thought.
Ron did a double take to make sure he was in the right place, but the numbers were correct and he knew it. Looking up, Ron saw that where there had once been an abandoned storefront, was now refurbished with new glass windows decorated with crystal balls and ornate tea sets. Ron gasped as he looked at the sign hanging over the window.
Patil’s Proper Prophets.
Parvati?, Ron thought to himself. First him and now Parvati? What is going on?
More confused than ever, Ron pushed open the front door of the shop. The door let out a long creaking sound and a cloud of dust rose as he stepped inside. The shop was dark, and the light from his wand did little to guide Ron’s way.
“Hermione!” shouted Ron. He knew it was risky to announce his presence, but if his time with Harry had taught him anything, it was that when danger was lurking, sometimes it's best to just get on with it.
“Do you miss her?” came a low hissing voice from the shadows.
“Show yourself!” Ron yelled in return.
“Soon enough,” cackled the voice in the shadows. “But first I need to show you something…”
“I’m not playing your games. Give me back my wife and I might let you walk away from this.”
“WALK AWAY!?” shrieked the voice. It was cold and shrill, almost otherworldly. “Oh Ron, my sweet Ron. I’m long past that.”
CRASH!
A crystal ball flew through the air and Ron dove to avoid it.
“COME AND SEE!” shrieked the voice again. An old wooden door in the back off the shop flew off its hinges, revealing a dark staircase leading to what Ron could only assume was the cellar.
“Just wanted a nice quiet life running a joke shop…” Ron groaned to himself. “Why can’t it be someone else for once?”
Wand at the ready, Ron gathered himself and walked to the cellar door. He paused, took a deep breath, and began his descent.
The staircase was small and a rotting smell filled the air. It grew worse the deeper Ron went. His feet reached the landing at the bottom of the stairs and Ron crouched down. He saw a long dark hallway stretching out in front of him and wondered if this passageway had once been used as a secret escape route by Death Eaters in need of a quick getaway.
“Hermione!” Ron called again as he walked slowly down the passageway.
“Just a little farther…”
Ron was almost through the passageway now and he saw a light in front of him. He stepped carefully into the light and emerged into a small circular room. The room had stone walls and was lit only by the odd torch still hanging on from glory days passed. Suddenly, the room was bright and Ron was forced to shield his eyes. Then, the light was gone, and Ron noticed something at his feet.
A necklace? Ron thought. He bent down to pick it up and saw that it was a gold chain with an engraved pendant that read, My Sweetheart. Stunned, Ron looked around and the room went dark again. Before he could find his bearings, there was a flash of light and the room was bright. Ron turned, and in the corner of the room he saw her. Lying unconscious on a cracked stone tablet was Hermione.
“Let her go!” screamed Ron as he sprinted towards her.
“Not a step closer,” said a young man’s voice as he stepped out from the shadows behind the stone table.
“Why?” shouted Ron. “You are our friend. Why are you doing this, Seamus?”
Seamus Finnigan smiled. “So you do remember me, Ron?”
“Of course,” said Ron bewildered. “We shared a room for six years. What is going on?”
“So you care about me then? Would you miss me if I died?” asked Seamus. Rage flashed across his eyes.
“Of course we do!”
“LIAR!” shouted Seamus and his voice echoed around the room. “You never cared about Seamus, and you never cared about me!”
“What are you talking about!?” screamed Ron.
“I’m talking about this,” grinned Seamus. A shadow covered his face and Ron could see his body shaking. He watched as Seamus’s eyes rolled into the back of his head.
“Seamus!” Ron screamed. He started to run towards the table where Hermione lay. He stopped.
A transparent smoke was rising from the back of Seamus’s head. It began to take form and Ron gasped. A female body, or the imprint of a female body, floated to the ground. Seamus’s limp corpse crashed to the floor beside it.
“It… it can’t be….” stuttered Ron.
“Hello, Won-Won,” cackled the ghost of Lavender Brown. “Did you miss me?”
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“You’re… you’re…”
“DEAD!?” screamed Lavender. “How kind of you to notice. I wondered if you did.”
“Lavender, of course, I noticed. We mourned for you, we mourned for all of you.”
“Did you really?” asked Lavender. “Even Hermione?”
“Yes!” shouted Ron.
“Just like her, then,” laughed Lavender. “She spends six years patronizing me and then suddenly when I’m all… interesting, she wants to pretend she cared.”
“Interesting? Lavender you died.”
“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT!?” screamed Lavender. “I knew it the moment Fenrir Greyback sunk his teeth into my throat.”
“But Hermione tried to save you!” shouted Ron.
“Did she, Won-Won? Did she? She stunned Greyback, sure. But did she even care enough to see if I was alive? NO! She just kept on running. I laid there, ALIVE, slowly bleeding out and no one stopped to help me. If she would have just come over to check on me, I might still be alive. Out there, living a happy life, maybe even married. But instead, I get nothing, and she gets everything.”
“Lavender, please,” Ron pleaded. “We all did the best we could, it was a war for Merlin’s sake!”
“But it wasn’t just then, was it Won-Won? We shared a room and all she ever did was look down on me and my ‘common nature’.”
“What do you mean?”
“When my rabbit died, all Hermione cared about was proving she was right. About making sure everyone knew that silly little Lavender was stupid for believing in Trelawney's predictions.”
“The sixteenth of October…” Ron said.
Lavender laughed, “So now you remember, Won-Won? ‘The thing you’ve been dreading will come to pass on the sixteenth of October.’ Professor Trelawney told me that, and when she was right, my wonderful roommate cared more about discrediting Trelawney than comforting a friend in need.”
“Lavender, that was a long time ago. We were just kids.”
“It wasn’t just then, Ron. She never respected me, none of you did. When you were in the hospital no one even bothered to tell me! Precious Harry Potter sneering at me, thinking I’m some daft little girl, just because I wanted to see my own boyfriend!? Even when I joined the DA, against my parent’s wishes, and fought against VOLDEMORT for you, I didn’t even warrant two minutes of Hermione Granger’s time to check if I might still be alive. So don’t tell me she cared about me when I was alive, none of you did, but you will now.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about taking what I deserve. I’m talking about making up for lost time, for the fact that I’ll never have a family or grow old, all because perfect little Hermione Granger wanted me out of the way. She could have saved me but she chose not to, and now it’s time for her to pay.”
“Lavender, no! Hermione never wanted you to die.”
“Yes, she did! She didn’t want any chance of me coming back to take you away from her. She thought she had you all to herself, but she was wrong. I’ve waited three years and now I’m taking back what’s mine, YOU!”
Before Ron could react, Lavender’s ghost rose into the air. The ghostly figure circled above Hermione’s limp body before plunging into her chest. Hermione began to seize, overcome by the ghostly invader.
Speechless, all Ron could do was stare.
The seizing stopped and Hermione stood.
“Hi Won-Won,” said Hermione.
It was Hermione’s body, but the shrill voice coming out of her mouth was not.
“Let her go, Lavender!” shouted Ron.
“Don’t you see my love?” asked Hermione. “Now we can finally be together. I can stay in this body and we can have a life, a family.”
“You can’t... I would never…” stammered Ron, but then he had a thought. “How are you doing this, Lavender? Ghosts can’t take on other witch’s bodies.”
“Can’t they?” laughed this demon Hermione. “You’d be surprised what you can learn if you just listen. Ghosts CAN possess the living. Someone else you and your golden trio took for granted taught me that.”
“Who?” asked Ron, trying to stall for time in any way he could. I could really use Hermione’s brain right about now, he thought.
“Your old mate, Moaning Myrtle. I’ve spent a lot of time with her these past three years. You see, we have a lot in common. Both died tragically at a young age, both disrespected by their peers, both forgotten after death. She told me all about your little adventures in the girl’s bathroom and she told me how as soon as you didn’t need her anymore, you never stopped to see her again.”
“It’s not like that--” Ron began.
But Lavender wasn’t finished, “She told me a lot. Myrtle has had a lot of time on her hands these last fifty years and she spent them pushing the boundaries between the living and the dead. Somewhere along the way, she realized that with a little help from the dark arts, she could possess the body of an unsuspecting witch or wizard. Now, she used this power for more… sensual ends… the little perv, but I saw the true potential of this power. I saw how I could take back everything that Hermione Granger took from me.”
“Lavender, I’m sorry for what happened and I’m sorry for the way we treated you. We were young and taking on problems that we had no business facing. We made mistakes, sure, but we never wanted you to die. I promise. But this is wrong, Lavender. Can’t you see that even if you take Hermione’s body, I’ll never be with you.”
“DON’T SAY THAT!” screamed Hermione.
“Lavender, you’re dead! I’m alive, we can never be together. I love Hermione…”
“SHUT UP!!!” roared Hermione. Her body shook as Lavender’s ghost shot out of her mouth. Hermione collapsed.
“Fine, Won-Won,” said the ghost. “If you don’t want to be with me in life, there’s another way.”
The lights in the room flashed again and Ron felt a rush of cold air go through him. There was a sharp pain across his neck and Ron felt his throat tighten as the gold necklace dug into his skin.
“Lavender, stop!” choked Ron.
“No Won-Won. You’re my sweetheart, remember? Just close your eyes and it will all be over soon. Then we can be together… forever.”
The chain closed tighter and Ron could feel his head spin. He tried to throw his hands back to strike his attacker but his hands just passed through Lavender's opaque body like it was water.
“Lavender, please…” Ron coughed. He knew it was no use.
“STOP!” yelled a voice from behind them.
Ron saw a flash of blue light and felt the necklace around his neck go limp. He watched as it fell to the floor, the pendant bouncing twice before cracking on the hard stone ground.
Struggling for air, Ron collapsed. Digging deep, he forced himself onto all fours and looked for the source of his salvation.
“Lavender, that’s enough.”
“Parvati?” Ron asked.
Parvati looked at him and smiled, “It’s going to be okay, Ron.”
“How can you take his side!?” yelled the ghost. “You were my best friend. You saw how she treated me!”
“This is wrong, Lavender, and you know it,” said Parvati, stepping closer to Ron. “You use my shop for your schemes, you kidnap and hurt three of our friends, it has to stop.”
“I don’t want to hurt you Parvati, but I will.”
“Enough!” shouted Parvati. Her wand shot in the air and she yelled, “Expelliarmus Phantasma!”
A blue light again shot from the end of Parvati's wand but this time it was larger and the light surrounded Lavender’s ghost.
“NOOOO!” screamed the ghost as the blue light engulfed her. The room shook and a terrible wind raged around them as Lavender’s ghostly screams split their ears. Then everything was still.
“Hermione!” shouted Ron and he ran to his wife’s limp body. He put a hand to her neck and let out a deep sigh of relief.
“She’s alive.”
“Thank goodness,” said Parvati.
She bent down next to Hermione’s body and conjured a goblet. She flicked her wand again and the goblet filled with a smooth pink liquid. Ron managed to lift Hermione into a sitting position as Parvati forced the liquid down her throat. They waited breathlessly until Hermione’s eyes flickered and she coughed.
“It’s Lavender!” shouted Hermione. “She’s a ghost!”
“We know, Hermione,” said Parvati.
Ron jumped forward and wrapped his arms around his wife.
“It’s over now,” Ron whispered into her ear.
“How?” choked Hermione.
“She couldn’t pass on, the way she died, she must have been haunting Hogwarts ever since,” said Ron.
“She was,” said Parvati. “I received an owl from Professor Trelawney a few weeks back, asking me if I’d noticed anything strange lately. She said had been having strange periods of time where she couldn’t remember anything, except that when she woke up she remembered thinking of my shop.”
“Lavender must have been possessing Trelawney in order to plan all of this,” said Hermione.
“Thank you, Parvati,” said Ron. “We wouldn’t be here if not for you.”
“I’m just glad I was able to be here in time. I’ve been abroad for weeks. I received a tip about a gifted seer operating in Wolfsburg but thankfully my sister checks in on the shop while I’m away. She said she noticed a strange man wandering about and that I should come home to check it out. I suppose it must have been poor Seamus over there.”
“We should see if he’s alright,” said Hermione.
“I can handle that,” said Ron. “Parvati, can you bring Hermione back to our house? I’ll be there as soon as I’ve gotten Seamus to St. Mungo’s.”
“Of course,” said Parvati.
“Ron!” said Hermione.
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
Ron looked at his wife and smiled, “I love you too.”
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A year had passed since Hermione’s abduction and, even though there had been no sightings of Lavender’s ghost, she still felt anxiety as October approached. Yet, the sixteenth came and went without incident. Hermione was sure that something would happen on Halloween, the anniversary of Lavender’s death, but she and Ron woke up happy and healthy on November first. Still, Hermione couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, so the next day she resolved to take a trip.
The following morning, Harry and Ginny showed up at their house followed by Parvati and Seamus.
“That everyone?” asked Ron.
“The rest are meeting us there,” said Hermione.
Ron nodded and Hermione produced a small plush rabbit from her bag.
“On my count,” she said. “Three, two, one…”
Everyone reached out and touched the soft toy rabbit. They felt a jerking sensation as their bodies spun and the portkey took them to their desired location.
Ron stumbled to his feet, still preferring just about any form of magical transportation to portkeys, and looked around. The tombstones around them gleamed in the sunlight and Ron followed the rest of his friends as they wound their way through the path before them.
Ahead, Ron saw figures he recognized as Dean, Neville, and Luna. He watched as Dean embraced Seamus and Ginny rushed over to hug Neville. Harry was smiling as Luna enlightened him on a new theory of hers while Hermione laughed with Cho as George Weasley looked on.
“Ahem,” Ron coughed and all the surviving members of the DA looked up at him. Ron continued...
“It’s so nice to have everyone together again. It’s been too long since we were all together, and I think we would be bloody fools to wait so long until the next time.”
“Hear, hear!” shouted Seamus. Ron smiled.
“But we came here today, not to look forward, but to look back. To remember what we’ve lost.”
Ron paused looked to his older brother. Tears fell down George’s cheek.
“I think we’ve all been so focused on putting the terror behind us and building a better world, that we can be guilty of forgetting everything that we sacrificed to get here. So today, I ask that we all raise a glass to those who gave their lives so that we could live ours.”
Hermione flicked her wand and goblets of Fire Whiskey appeared in everyone’s hand.
“To Dobby,” said Ginny raising her glass.
“To Fred,” said George.
“To Remus,” said Neville.
“To Tonks,” said Hermione.
“To Dumbledore,” said Parvati.
“To Snape,” said Harry.
All their glasses raised, the DA looked to Ron. He reached down and put his hand on the tombstone below him. It was the tombstone of the girl with whom he had first shared a bed, the girl he had been too cowardly to give the respect she deserved, and yet, the girl who had given her life for him despite that.
Ron’s eyes watered as he raised his glass,
“To Lavender.”