Peter Falding had lived in this corner of Privet Drive for over 5 years, now. He had seen many, many strange, almost unbelievable things in his life. People wearing strange costumes, walking down the street. One man had his entire suit on completely backwards. As he walked past the dumbfounded Falding, he politely raised his bowler hat and smiled, then continued walking.

One night, long ago, the whole sky filled with a bright light late at night, followed by what looked like Aurora Borealis, crossing from north to south, like an ocean's wave across the starry nighttime sky.

There were, of course, many other strange things happening: Big dogs running down the streets after low flying owls. News reports of massive slaughterings of individuals not far from here. There was even one day when the sun simply did not go down at all.

After seeing so many odd things, Peter wasn't too surprised to see a very bushy brown haired cat sitting at the corner of Privet street, looking at a map. The cat tried to hide the map and walk around like a normal cat, but Peter had already spotted the cat. However, cats reading maps wasn't anything extremely dangerous, so Peter simply shook his head and walked back inside his small house. "Darlene! When are we going te move outta this bloody neighborhood?" he yelled as he went in the house.

The cat looked over at the house and smiled. With a small stretch and a purr, she turned down the road and trotted to the lone marker at the sidewalk in front of an old, burned down house. Still lying on the ground was the golden number 4 that once hung from the doorway.

In the distance, fireworks continued to explode in the air, as though a major celebration was continuing in London. Such fireworks were illegal, as they were from magical wands, but there wasn't much of a ministry these days to enforce the laws. However, Percy Weasley would soon have things working ship-shape.

The small, brown cat looked around one direction to the next to see if anyone was around. Satisfied that no one was looking, the cat slowly began to change. Her body turned dark black, and she began to grow steadily. After only a few seconds, the cat became a beautiful young woman in black robes and a cloak, with a pointy hat on her head. Her long, bushy brown hair showered out from under her hat, and her bright, shiny eyes glimmered like the stars above.

"You're late, you know," a somewhat rough voice came from the shadows.

"I'm sorry," the brown haired witch replied. "I–I didn't know if anyone was going to be here."

The man to whom the rough voice belonged walked out of the shadows and into the light. His long gray robes and black cloak were somewhat tattered and weather-worn. After all he had been through, however, he looked rather well. Long, red hair, pulled back to a ponytail adorned his head, and freckles across his face. Instantly, a wide smile broke out across his face, and the young man ran across to the young woman and threw his arms around her.

Tears streamed from the young woman's face. "Oh, RonI missed you so much."

Ron pulled back and laughed. "Anyone ever tell you you look like McGonagall, Professor Granger?"

"Professor Granger?" Hermione asked, pulling away and looking rather hurt. "Ron, c'monwe're friends. Don't call me that!"

"Sorry," Ron said, sitting on the porch of the burned down house. "Habit. That's what everyone at Gryffindor calls you."

"Yes, well, now that the war's over, I'm going to take your name back from that underground you have and put it back at Hogwart's, where it belongs."

"Hogwarts?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows. "So, you're going to rebuild the bloody place?"

"Maybe not in the same way as it once was, but, yesIt will be rebuilt. Just have to wait for your brother to start getting funding around our way."

"May be a while," Ron smiled. "Ol Perce's got his hands full."

Hermione looked around, trying to see up and down the road. Her face contorted, and she looked very angry. Ron was immediately reminded of his old Professor again. "Stupid, stupid people out everywhere. They're not even trying to wear disguises. They're just out prancing around and mingling with the muggles. It's going to take a lot of charms to get all this cleaned up."

"Tell me about it," Ron said. "I'm the one in charge of it. Oh, welllet the blokes have their fun. It's been a long time since we wizarding types have been able to walk around free."

Hermione turned to Ron, walked over and sat next to him. After a few moments, she said, "Have you seen him? Is he coming, you think?"

Ron's face turned sad. "I had hoped maybe you would have seen the old sod."

"It's been at least a year, now, hasn't it?" she whispered to herself. "I hope he's okay."

"Harry has defeated He-who-must-not-be-named more times than I can count. I would bet my life that Harry will be back, and playing in the next Quidditch Cup. I'm sure Perce will get us good seats, too."

"I hope you're right," Hermione whispered. "We know for sure that He-who-must-not-be-named' is dead. Finally. I just hope the watchers were wrong about Harry."

"What was that?" Ron asked, standing up, suddenly. He pulled out his wand and yelled "Lumos!" The tip of the wand lit up, alighting the surrounding area.

"My God," Hermione whispered, putting her hand over her mouth. "Harry?"

***

It was a great day of mourning. Not only in England, but throughout the world. Though no names appeared on T.V. or in the London Post, New York Times, or any other major publication, hundreds of thousands throughout the world mourned deeply on this day.

A single flag, unseen by muggle eyes at the Parliament Building in London flew at half mast. As did similar flags in front of Windsor Castle, the French and German Governments, all over Europe, Asia, even in front of the White House in America. Though no one knew the reason why, people left single roses in great quantities at the gates of these buildings. The really interesting thing was, no one knew how they got there. No muggle could see the Wizards and Witches as they laid the roses down, tears in their eyes.

In a little town, hidden in the now snowy hills far from London, lay a little town called Hogsmeade. Today, the town was filled with students from the nearby school of Hogwarts. The students huddled together in shelters wherever they could find them, waiting for their parents to come and get them.

Whispers filled the air: "Died for us?" "Sacrificed himself to get us out of the Castle?" "can't believe the old man's gone." "McGonagall, too."

Standing in the middle of it all was Hermione, trying to calm down the young students. She had been directing students in one direction or another all day, doing all she could to try to find rooms for students, while the sky was filled with smoke from the burning castle.

"Professor!" one of the young children yelled, running up to her. "It's Professor Snape! He doesn't look too good!"

"Okay, Twiditch, I'll be there in one second," Hermione said politely, though a look of annoyance came across her face. "Nevile! I've got to go into the pub, you're in charge, here!"

The tall, fit young man waved, and returned to treating the wounds on first-years laying around him. A good part of the road was covered in wounded children, being cared for, now, by Neville Longbottom. Normally, Madame Pomfrey would be helping, as she was the school nurse, but no one had seen her since the great explosions. She was presumed dead.

Hermione pushed open the doors of the crowded pub, and carefully walked through the huddled groups of students to the back table, where an older man, hair greasy and slick, sat, holding a butterbeer. He wasn't holding it too well, though, as the glass trembled in his hands. His eyes stared off into the darkness, and only flickered to life when Hermione pulled up a seat next to him.

"Pro–uh, Severus?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

A smile came to Severus' lips, and his trembling eyes met hers. "Wh–what's wrong, dear?" he asked. "Why, how c–could anything possibly be wrong? Minerva, Albusboth died right in front of me. Our best chances at beating that–that thing, are now dead, my dear."

Hermione put a hand on his back, trying to comfort him. She noticed some of the children looking at them, fear in their eyes. If Professor Snape was afraid, how should they feel? How could they not be frightened?

"Severuswhy don't we go up–"

"No! We will not hide from them!" Snape snapped suddenly. "They have a right to know! They have a right to know that Voldemort is in charge, now! Look!" he screamed, holding his arm up and pulling his sleeve back. "The dark mark burns brightly, now! Voldemort is our ruler, now that Dumbledore is dead!"

Most of the children huddled together tighter. Many of them were beginning to cry hard.

"Professor Snape!" Hermione yelled, standing up, and holding her wand out to him. "Go to your room, or shut up, right now!

Snape looked at her in surprise. A smile came across his lips, again. "Six years ago, I would have taken away 200 points from Gryffindor."

Snape then turned and walked up the stairs to his room, leaving the children behind. The rumors were already beginning to flash through the room and out the door. Hermione turned to the children. "Don't you believe it," she yelled, trying to do her best McGonagall impression. "It is certainly not over! Not as long as Harry Potter's still alive!"

"Potter can't stop him, anymore!" one of the children yelled back. Hermione had to bite her tongue to keep from taking off points from his house. "He's just a scared, stupid man, hiding from everyone!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" Hermione yelled. "You do not know Harry. I do. As long as Harry's alive, there is still hope."

"You're just a mudblood, what do you know?" one of the students yelled. Hermione instantly recognized him. It was a boy by the name of Jonothan Goyle. He was a smaller, smarter version of the Goyle that had gone to school with her. They were cousins, and he was in Slytherin. Rumors had it he was the inside loop to Draco's deathsquads that had finally penetrated Hogwarts.

"You, young man, are excused," Hermione said calmy and sternly. "You can leave this town, right now."

"Hey, no skin off my back," Goyle smiled, turning to go out the door. "Oh, and Professor Granger? I'd watch my back if I were you. Uncle Malfoy's still got an itching to get to you."

As he walked out the door, Hermione could feel her eye twitch slightly from the stress. She lowered her head to the floor to hide the tear at her eye, but quickly wiped it away and tried to regain control of the class.

"Harry, wherever you areplease come back. We all need youI need you."

***

(So much more to come"