The Hidden Destruction.

The Unreal Truth

Hermione Weasley was standing in the fireplace, Floo powder in her hand, and her whole body shaking with fear. She didn't know the reason of her fear. She was brave, she was a Gryffindor, she wasn't supposed to be afraid. Maybe it was natural, maybe everyone had to face such thing before setting foot to that country. Maybe she wasn't alone. She closed her eyes and thought about about Hugo and Rose, they must be enjoying their time at Hogwarts. She thought about Ron, Ginny and Harry and her parents, her childhood, her teenage, her past. Was there a future? Was there a tomorrow for her? Would she return from that country?

Lost in the labyrinth of thoughts and trapped in the web of fear, she grabbed a bit of Floo powder from the flowerpot. She watched the particles slip through her fingers and fall on the black floor of fireplace. It kept falling, particle by particle, slowly and yet still fast at the same time. That was how time flew, second by second, slowly and yet fast too. No matter what she did, she couldn't stop the powder from falling, just like she could't stop time. The powder kept falling and she didn't care because she still had some left in her palm, she kept watching it, not knowing what she was doing. It kept falling, slowly, and there came a time when nothing was left in her hand. She looked at the floor and realized how careless she had been, the thought that it was now a waste and she couldn't use it anymore made her regret her carelessness. That's how she had wasted time, she let it slip through her fingers, thinking she had a lot. One second passed after another and she never noticed, now that she was standing an inch from end, now that all the time had slipped through her fingers, she realized how imbecile she had been, thinking she still had a lot in her hands when in fact they had lost everything.

Why was everyone afraid of that country? Why was it called a dangerous country? She had grown up listening that muslims were dangerous, she should never trust them, she should never believe them, they deserve to be punished, they deserve to live in a cruel world like Syria. A part of her believed it, believed all the things people had told about muslims, but there was still a part that knew that they were all lies, that she shouldn't believe them. She never cared about what was happening in outer world, she never needed to. She was just supposed to live with her family, answer people's questions and take care of a few things as being the Minister of Magic. Now, that she had to go all the way to Syria (because people thought this country was spreading terror in world) to threat their Minister and ask them to stop all the attacks, she realized: with great power comes great responsibility.

She took a deep breath and grabbed the Floo powder again, this time she didn't give it enough time to slip. Immediately, she threw the powder with great force while speaking "Damascus" as clearly as she could with her trembling lips. The green flames devoured her body and her perspective. After a few usual things, the spinning, the sounds and weird feelings, she found herself standing in the fireplace again, yet a different one. She looked around the room. It was an office but hardly looked like one. It was small and looked old. The walls were painted in white, that had turned into off-white, and filled with cracks. The two portraits were hanged brutally on the front wall. A weak and old man with black beard in one and a beautiful but old woman with head-scarf in other. The room had nothing but a cupboard, a book-shelf filled with files and pages, its one leg supported by a brick, a chair and a table with more files. "Sabahu Al-khair" the woman in portrait spoke without any expression. Hermione thinking it was a greeting, waved at her.