Strange

Rumors and Reactions

A/N: Don't miss out on the exclusive art for this story, available on both Wattpad and AO3! It's a visual treat, offering a glimpse into the 8th year corridors, dorms, and entrances as featured in the chapters. Highly recommend checking it out for some immersive visuals! You can find them at the end of each chapter!

Hermione Granger sat stiffly in Headmistress McGonagall's office, her body tense as sunlight streamed through the tall, gothic windows, casting fractured patterns across the floor. Her throat burned with a tangled knot of rage, guilt, and exhaustion, each emotion pulling her in different directions, threatening to break her. Just moments ago, in front of the entire Great Hall, she had lost control, her fury exploding in a way she could no longer rationalize.

Lavender's words still echoed in her ears, each one a barb, twisting deeper into her already fragile resolve. The loss of Ron, the unfairness of it all, was a wound that bled fresh every day. But it was the accusation that stung the most: that Ron had died becauseof her, because she wasn't worth the sacrifice. Lavender, who had once loved Ron, had thrown the guilt at Hermione's feet, and it burned. Ron was a hero, and he shouldn't have had to die for her. But the war had taken him, leaving her with the weight of his sacrifice—a weight she wasn't sure she could bear.

Her fists clenched in her lap as she blinked back tears, determined to remain composed. The memory of the outburst replayed vividly: Lavender's sneer, the sharp snap of Hermione's control, and then the violence. Her plate had flown through the air, followed by her, clawing and striking. It had taken three professors and two prefects to pull them apart. Hermione's wand had flicked, delivering a final hex, before the chaos finally settled.

She knew she had overreacted. Violence was never the answer—the war had proven that. But today, she had reached her breaking point. Everyone around her expected her to be perfect, to hold everything together, but inside, she was unraveling. Ron's absence was a constant, painful reminder of what she had lost.

Across the desk, McGonagall regarded her with stern eyes, though there was a flicker of something softer in her expression. Disappointment? Pity? Frustration? Hermione couldn't tell. The Headmistress cared deeply for her, but today, rules had to come first.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall began, her voice quieter than usual, threaded with weariness. "Your actions were... uncharacteristic." She paused, as if searching for the right words. "I won't deny that I'm disappointed. You know resorting to violence is against everything we stand for here."

"I know, Headmistress." Shame washed over Hermione, and her hands tightened into fists. "I wasn't thinking straight. I'm sorry."

McGonagall's sternness faltered slightly. "Letting you off with just a warning would send the wrong message, both to the school and to Lavender's family."

Hermione felt a pang of regret, but behind it was anger—a quiet, simmering fury. She knew she had let everyone down, but she couldn't bring herself to regret defending Ron's memory. Her voice cracked. "What Lavender said... it was cruel. I couldn't stand it."

McGonagall sighed softly, her gaze softening with sympathy for a moment before hardening again. "That may be true, but that doesn't excuse what happened. I've spoken with Lavender, and she will be dealt with. But I'm afraid your actions require consequences as well."

Hermione swallowed, feeling a weight settle in her stomach. "How long will I be suspended?"

"There won't be a suspension." McGonagall leaned back in her chair, folding her hands thoughtfully. "We've instituted a new program after the war—something focused on restorative justice. Students who have made mistakes are given a chance to learn and contribute. You will join the program as part of your punishment."

Hermione froze. She'd heard of this new initiative—A similar one had been initiated by the Ministry of Magic, but Professor McGonagall had adapted it for Hogwarts. The Detention Program: designed to rehabilitate students who had committed serious offenses during the war. Faces flashed in her mind: Malfoy, Nott, Parkinson. Slytherins.

"Headmistress, no," Hermione's voice trembled with panic. "Jinx me, make me write lines until my hand falls off. Please, anything but that program. Detention with them? Malfoy?" Her throat tightened at the thought. The very idea of being forced to work alongside the people who had supported Voldemort and his regime filled her with dread.

McGonagall's expression was firm. "I understand how difficult this will be for you, but the program isn't about punishment. It's about healing and redemption—for everyone."

"But they don't deserve redemption," Hermione's voice broke. "Not after everything they did. Not after Ron."

McGonagall sighed deeply, her stern mask cracking just a little. She placed a gentle hand over Hermione's, squeezing it briefly before pulling back. "Healing isn't just for them, Hermione. It's for you, too. You're carrying a great deal of pain, and this program might help you find peace."

"That's not enough!" Hermione slammed her fist on the desk, a startled gasp escaping McGonagall's lips. Shame washed over her instantly, but the raw anger was a storm she couldn't control.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall said sharply, her voice regaining its usual authority.

But before McGonogall could speak further, a knock interrupted them. The door creaked open, revealing Neville and Luna. Neville, usually brimming with nervous energy, looked like a storm cloud, his shoulders slumped and his face etched with worry.

"Come in," McGonagall called out, her voice tight with barely suppressed emotion.

"Headmistress," he began softly, his gaze shifting to Hermione, "I need to confess something."

Hermione's heart raced. Neville, no. Don't do this.

McGonagall's gaze flickered between them, a hint of suspicion replacing the weariness. "Confess what, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville took a deep breath, his hands clenching into fists. "It's my fault Hermione attacked Lavender," he blurted out, his voice thick with guilt. "It wasn't her doing." He paused, casting an apologetic glance at Hermione. "I overheard what Lavender said and told Hermione." Neville admitted guiltily, his voice laden with regret. He cast a solemn glance at Hermione. "I shouldn't have. I made things worse."

Hermione shook her head, feeling a surge of gratitude. Neville, always loyal to a fault, trying to take the blame. "Neville, no. It wasn't your fault. I should have known better."

"Actually," McGonagall interjected, her voice surprisingly gentle. "It seems there's a bit of truth to both your confessions." Her gaze swept over them, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. "Which is why," she continued, her voice dropping to a low rumble, "I've decided to expand the program."

Hermione's breath hitched. "Expand?" she echoed, a knot of dread forming in her stomach.

"Indeed," McGonagall confirmed. "Mr. Longbottom, your loyalty is commendable, but misplaced when it shields others from responsibility. You will be joining the program as well."

Neville and Hermione exchanged a look of shared horror. "What?" they chorused, their voices laced with disbelief.