Pure

Potential

The familiar steamy air filled my lungs as I took my first breath back into the magical world. My world. Students bustled about, receiving final embraces from the families they were leaving behind. The train stood proudly at the platform, and I nodded in remembrance of the when it took me to Hogwarts for the first time six years prior.

The Weasleys stood next to me, clearly unfazed by the nostalgia that was swirling through my brain. Ron had never understood why I had such a fond memory of the train. To him, it was just another part of his constant magical world. I glanced at Harry. He understood my connection to the train. He had it too. The train took us home. It took us to magic.

"Hermione, are you just going to stand there waiting for the grass to grow? Hurry on up or the train will be full!" Ron said waving his hand in front of my face.

"I'll meet you there. Save me a seat, alright?" I replied back. Ron stared at me for a moment, then, nodding his head, left with Harry.

I looked around again. My gaze drifted towards a pair with platinum blonde hair. Draco Malfoy, and his mother. I subliminally sneered at Draco Malfoy, but my gaze softened when I took in his appearance. He looked awful. Dark circles were so fixated under his eyes that it appeared as if he hadn't slept properly all summer. He still maintained his rigid posture and cold features, but the hardness of his eyes were ever so slightly softer, and his commonly slicked back hair had the smallest wave to it. He looked tired, exhausted. Empty.

It was that moment I decided I could not hate him. I pitied him, and his false understanding of the world that he lived in.
I turned away and stepped into the train, wandering down the compartments until I saw Harry and Ron. Before I could sit down, Harry spoke.

"He's one of them."

"What, Harry?" I questioned.

"Malfoy. He's a Death Eater." At the mention of Malfoy who had recently inhabited my mind before entering the train, my head shot up.

"Harry, there's no way! Sure he is a bully, but that is all he is, a rude, egotistical bully. There's no possible way that Draco Malfoy is evil. He is not a death eater." I was aghast. It wasn't possible. Draco was mean, to me especially, but I would never go as far to say that he had become a death eater over the summer.
"You're wrong Hermione. I just know he is. I just... know."
"I don't know Harry, he is a right git, but I just don't know," said Ron.

"Either way, you can't just m..." the compartment door slid open, and Luna and Neville came inside.

They rambled something about wrackspurts, and I tuned out the rest of the conversation. Luna may be a very kind person, but her ridiculous ideas irritated me. I instead thought of Harry. He was very on edge. Something was off about him. He had a new fire lit under him, seeming to be in anticipation of a war.

It frightens me, to think of a war. Things have been happening, even in the muggle world, disappearances, "natural" disasters, and a war almost seems unavoidable now. I have seen a battle already, and my close connection with "the chosen one" has put me at risk even further, adding to the list of why I may not survive if there is a war, followed by my blood status.

It's funny though. I am not afraid for myself. I fear for my friends, for Harry, and for innocent people who will be casualties of this looming war. I am frightened for people like Draco Malfoy, who does not deserve the horrible life he was forced into.

This world has potential, and that potential is slipping away.

                     ~~~

I sit at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall as the names of first years are being sorted. Looking back, first year started my streak of near death experiences. I would never trade it for anything though. I became friends with the two best friends anyone could have that year.

Harry still still hadn't come to the great hall. He had left a while back on the train to visit the new potions teacher who required his presence, but still had yet to be seen since. My worrying for Harry has merit to it however, when he stumbles through the hall to the table.

"You're covered in blood!" I said. "Come here--"

I waved my wand and discarded the blood from his clothes, and he mumbled a "Thanks."

I looked around at the great hall. Teachers were tense. Professor Dumbledore was gazing through his half moon spectacles at Harry with a carefully concealed concern. Seventh years had terse expressions, no doubt discussing the return of Voldemort, rushing glances at Harry when they thought no one was looking.

First years gathered together at the table of their new house, chatting excitedly about the year to come.

It hit me then. The world was changing before my eyes and I could do nothing about it. The innocence of the first years was to be destroyed, likely before the school year was out.
I could no longer handle the stares of others, and the childish tauntings of the Slytherins. I couldn't think in this environment. So, like any rational person, I stood and ran.

Initially, I started for the library, my safety. But after I realized that the library would be closed due to the feast in the great hall, I remembered the Room of Requirement, and climbed the stairs to the seventh floor.

When I reached the seventh floor, I paced, deciding on what I should ask the room of. I thought "I need a place to think," and a large door with brass handles appeared. Good enough, I decided, and as I reached for the door handle, I thought of the crumbling world around and begged for a miracle.

I opened the door and took a step forward, letting go of the silver handle I had grabbed, and then there was nothing.