"A hero?" said Hermione. She looked up nervously at Professor McGonagall and saw that the Transfiguration Professor's face had grown tight, though her hand still squeezed Hermione's shoulder reassuringly.
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "I was a hero myself once, before I was a mysterious old wizard, in the days when I opposed Grindelwald. You have read history books, Miss Granger?"
Hermione nodded.
"Well," said Dumbledore, "that is what heroes have to do, Miss Granger, they have their tasks and they must grow strong to accomplish them, and that is what you see happening to Harry. If there is anything that can be done to gentle his pathway, then you will be the one to do it, and not I. For I am not Harry's friend, alas, but only his mysterious old wizard."
"I -" said Hermione. "I'm not sure - I still want to be -" Her voice stopped, it seemed too awful to say aloud.
Dumbledore closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he looked a little older than before. "No one can stop you, Miss Granger, if you choose to stop being Harry's friend. As for what it would do to him, you may know that better than I."
"That - doesn't seem fair," Hermione said, her voice trembling. "That I've got to be Harry's friend because he's got no one else? That doesn't seem fair."
"Being a friend is not something you can be forced to, Miss Granger." The blue eyes seemed to look right through her. "The feelings are there, or they are not. If they are there, you can accept them or deny them. You are Harry's friend - and choosing to deny it would wound him terribly, perhaps beyond healing. But Miss Granger, what would drive you to such extremes?"
She couldn't find words. She'd never been able to find words. "If you get too near Harry - you get swallowed up, and no one sees you any more, you're just something of his, everyone thinks the whole world revolves around him and..." She didn't have the words.
The old wizard nodded slowly. "It is indeed an unjust world we live in, Miss Granger. All the world now knows that it is I who defeated Grindelwald, and fewer remember Elizabeth Beckett who died opening the way so I could pass through. And yet she is remembered. Harry Potter is the hero of this play, Miss Granger; the world does revolve around him. He is destined for great things; and I ween that in time the name of Albus Dumbledore will be remembered as Harry Potter's mysterious old wizard, more than for anything else I have done. And perhaps the name of Hermione Granger will be remembered as his companion, if you prove worthy of it in your day. For this I tell you true: never will you find more glory on your own, than in Harry Potter's company."
Hermione shook her head rapidly. "But that's not -" She'd known she wouldn't be able to explain. "It's not about glory, it's about being - something that belongs to someone else!"
"So you think you would rather be the hero?" The old wizard sighed. "Miss Granger, I have been a hero, and a leader; and I would have been a thousand times happier if I could have belonged to someone like Harry Potter. Someone made of sterner stuff than I, to make the hard decisions, and yet worthy to lead me. I thought, once, that I knew such a man, but I was mistaken... Miss Granger, you have no idea at all how fortunate are those like you, compared to heroes."
The hot burning feeling was creeping up her throat again, along with helplessness, she didn't understand why Professor McGonagall had brought her here if the Headmaster wasn't going to help, and from a glance at Professor McGonagall's face, it looked like Professor McGonagall also wasn't sure now that it had been a good idea.
"I don't want to be a hero," said Hermione Granger, "I don't want to be a hero's companion, I just want to be me."
(The thought came to her a few seconds later that maybe she did in fact want to be a hero, but she decided not to change what she'd said.)
"Ah," said the old wizard. "That is a tall order, Miss Granger." Dumbledore rose from his throne, stepped out behind his desk, and pointed to a symbol on the wall, so ubiquitous that Hermione's eyes had glossed right over it; a faded shield on which was inscribed the heraldry of Hogwarts, the lion and snake, and badger and raven, and in Latin engraved words whose point she'd never understood. Then, as she realized where that shield was, and how old it looked, it suddenly occurred to Hermione that this might be the original -
"A Hufflepuff would say," said Dumbledore, tapping his finger on the faded badger and making Hermione wince for the sacrilege (if it was the original), "that people fail to become who they are meant to be, because they are too lazy to put in all the work involved. A Ravenclaw," tapping the raven, "would repeat those words that the wise know to be far older than Socrates, know thyself, and say that people fail to become who they are meant to be, through ignorance and lack of thought. And Salazar Slytherin," Dumbledore frowned as his finger tapped the faded snake, "why, he said that we become who we are meant to be by following our desires wherever they lead. Perhaps he would say that people fail to become themselves because they refuse to do what is necessary to achieve their ambitions. But then one notes that nearly all of the Dark Wizards to come out of Hogwarts have been Slytherins. Did they become what they were meant to be? I think not." Dumbledore's finger tapped the lion, and then he turned toward her. "Tell me, Miss Granger, what would a Gryffindor say? I do not need to ask whether the Sorting Hat offered you that House."
It didn't seem like a hard question. "A Gryffindor would say that people don't become who they should be, because they're afraid."
"Most people are afraid, Miss Granger," said the old wizard. "They live their whole lives circumscribed by crippling fear that cuts off everything they might accomplish, everything they might become. Fear of saying or doing the wrong thing, fear of losing their mere possessions, fear of death, and above all the fear of what other people will think of them. Such fear is a most terrible thing, Miss Granger, and it is terribly important to know that. But it is not what Godric Gryffindor would have said. People become who they are meant to be, Miss Granger, by doing what is right." The old wizard's voice was gentle. "So tell me, Miss Granger, what seems to you like the right choice? For that is who you truly are, and wherever that path leads, that is who you are meant to become."
There was a long space filled with the sounds of things that could not be counted.
She thought about it, because she was a Ravenclaw.
"I don't think it's right," Hermione said slowly, "for someone to have to live inside someone else's shadow like that..."
"Many things in the world are not right," said the old wizard, "the question is what is right for you to do about them. Hermione Granger, I shall be less subtle than is usual for a mysterious old wizard, and tell you outright that you cannot imagine how badly things could go if the events surrounding Harry Potter turn to ill. His quest is a matter you would not even dream of walking away from, if you knew."
"What quest?" said Hermione. Her voice was trembling, because it was very clear what answer the Headmaster was looking for and she didn't want to give it. "What happened to Harry back then, why was Fawkes on his shoulder?"
"He grew up," said the old wizard. His eyes blinked several times, beneath the half-moon glasses, and his face suddenly looked very lined. "You see, Miss Granger, people do not grow up because of time, people grow up when they are placed in grownup situations. That is what happened to Harry Potter that Saturday. He was told - you are not to share this information with anyone, you understand - he was told that he would have to fight someone. I cannot tell you who. I cannot tell you why. But that is what happened to him, and why he needs his friends."
There was a pause.
"Bellatrix Black?" Hermione said. She couldn't have been more shocked if someone had plugged an electrical cord into her ear. "You're going to make Harry fight Bellatrix Black?"
"No," said the old wizard. "Not her. I cannot tell you who, or why."
She thought about it some more.
"Is there any way I can keep up with Harry?" said Hermione. "I mean, I'm not saying it's what I'll do, but - if he needs friends then can we be equal friends? Can I be a hero too?"
"Ah," sa
id the old wizard, and smiled. "Only you can decide that, Miss Granger."
"But you're not going to help me like you're helping Harry."
The old wizard shook his head. "I have helped him little enough, Miss Granger. And if you are asking me for a quest -" The old wizard smiled again, rather wryly. "Miss Granger, you are in your first year of Hogwarts. Do not be too eager to grow up; there will be time enough for that later."
"I'm twelve. Harry's eleven."
"Harry Potter is special," said the old wizard. "As you know, Miss Granger." The blue eyes were suddenly piercing beneath the half-moon glasses, and she was reminded of the day of the Dementor when Dumbledore's voice had said, inside her mind, that he knew about Harry's dark side.
Hermione put up her hand and touched Professor McGonagall's hand, which had stayed strong on her shoulder this whole time, and Hermione said, she was surprised that her voice didn't break, "I'd like to go, now, please."
"Of course," said Professor McGonagall, and Hermione felt the hand on her shoulder gently turning her around to face the oaken door.
"Have you chosen your path yet, Hermione Granger?" said Albus Dumbledore's voice from behind her, even as the door slowly creaked open to reveal the Enchantment of the Endless Stair.
She nodded.
"And?"
"I'll," she said, her voice stuck, "I'll, I'll -"
She swallowed.
"I'll do - what's right -"
She didn't say anything else, she couldn't, and then the Endless Stair began revolving around her once again.
Neither she nor Professor McGonagall spoke on the way down.
When the Flowing Stone gargoyles stepped out of their way, and the two of them stepped out into the corridors of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall finally spoke, and she said in a whisper, "I'm so terribly sorry, Miss Granger. I did not think the Headmaster would say such things to you. I think he truly has forgotten what it is like to be a child."
Hermione glanced back up to her and saw that Professor McGonagall looked like she was about to burst into tears... only not really, but there was a tightness in her face that was like that.
"If I want to be a hero too," said Hermione, "if I've decided to be a hero too, is there anything you can do to help?"
Professor McGonagall rapidly shook her head, and said, "Miss Granger, I'm not sure the Headmaster is wrong about that. You are twelve."
"Okay," said Hermione.
They walked forward a bit.
"Excuse me," said Hermione, "is it okay if I walk back to the Ravenclaw tower by myself? I'm sorry, it's not your fault or anything, I just want to be by myself right now."
"Of course, Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall, her voice sounding a little hoarse, and Hermione heard her footsteps stop, and then turn around behind her.
Hermione Granger walked away.
She climbed a flight of stairs, and then another, wondering if there was anyone else in Hogwarts who would give her a chance to be a hero. Professor Flitwick would say the same thing as Professor McGonagall, and even if he didn't, he probably couldn't help, Hermione didn't know who could help. Well, Professor Quirrell would come up with something clever if she used up enough Quirrell points, but she had a feeling that asking him would be a bad idea - that the Defense Professor couldn't help anyone become the sort of hero that was worth becoming, and that he wouldn't even understand the difference.
She had almost gotten to the Ravenclaw tower when she saw the flash of gold.
Chapter 69: Self Actualization, Pt 4
It was out of the corner of her eye that Hermione Granger saw it, a reflection on the polished metal of a statue at the junction of two corridors, a flash of gold, a flash of red, something like an image of fire; just for a moment she saw it, and then it was gone.
She paused, puzzled, and she almost walked away, but there had been something familiar about that brief glow -
Hermione walked forward to where the statue had stood, looked at the corridor from which she thought the fiery reflection might have come.
Faintly, as though from a faraway place, she heard the cry, the call.
Hermione started to run.
She ran for a while; whenever she got to a junction she would pause, catch as much breath as she could, and then she would see a flash of fire reflected from one direction or another, or hear that distant call. If it hadn't been for her army training she would've fallen over in exhaustion, running like that.
She never saw the phoenix.
And then she came to a four-way branch and there was nothing, no sign, she waited for long seconds and she heard no cry and saw no fire, and she was only just starting to wonder with a sick sad feeling if she'd imagined the whole thing, when she heard a person cry out.
When her rapidly racing feet turned the corner her mind took in the whole scene at a glance, three huge boys in green-trimmed robes already turning to look at her, and one shorter and smaller boy in yellow, who was dangling in the air from one foot held up high by an invisible hand.
The Sunshine General didn't even think about it, people who stopped to think didn't spring very good ambushes.
Her wand was in her hand, her fingers did the twist and her lips said "Somnium!" and the largest bully fell over, the Hufflepuff boy dropped out of the air with a thump and the other two bullies were trying to aim their wands at her and she said "Somnium!" again and another huge boy keeled over - the one who'd been aiming his wand faster, that was who she'd fired at.
Unfortunately casting two Sleep Hexes in a row like that was hard even for her, and she couldn't get off a third before -
The last bully shouted "Protego!" and was surrounded by a shimmering blue glow.
Twenty-four hours ago, Hermione would have panicked at that, a real Shielding Charm would let the bully-boy cast spells on her even while he was protected.
Now she -
"Stupefy!" shouted the bully-boy.
The crimson bolt blasted toward her with a terrible brilliance, blazing far brighter than any hex that had sprung from Harry's wand.
Hermione swayed slightly to the left, and the bolt missed, because the bully's aim hadn't been nearly as good as Harry's; and the thought came to her that maybe bullies and Professor Quirrell's armies didn't mix.
"Stupefy!" shouted the bully-boy again. "Expelliarmus! Stupefy!"
Anyway, now she'd just spent a whole hour thinking of all the other spells she could've cast on Harry and Neville -
"Jellyfy!" yelled the bully-boy, a wide-beam jinx with no visible bolt to dodge, and her knees suddenly felt almost too weak to support her. And then, with an angry roar producing an even brighter blaze of crimson, "Stupefy!"
She dodged that one by deliberately falling, and by then she'd recovered enough for her next spell, which was -
"Glisseo," said Hermione, directing her remark to the floor.
"Oof," said the bully-boy as his feet went out from under him and he actually dropped his wand.
The Protego winked out.
"Somnium," said Hermione.
She was still breathing in gasps as she crawled over to where the Hufflepuff boy was sitting up, and groaning and rubbing his skull where he'd been dropped head-first into the floor; it was a good thing he hadn't been a Muggle, Hermione realized, or he might have snapped his neck. She hadn't actually thought of that.
"Uh," said the boy, his hair was of a color that would've been called 'brunette' if he was a girl, his eyes an undistinguished brown that somehow seemed just right for Hufflepuff, there weren't any tears on his face but he looked sort of pale. She pegged him at about fourth year, or third.
Then the brown eyes widened as he focused on her. "General Sunshine?"
"Yeah," she said. "That's (gasp) me." If the Hufflepuff boy said anything about her being Harry Potter's love interest, she decided, he was going to die.
"Wow," said the Hufflepuff boy. "That was - you just - I mean I saw you on the screens before Christmas but - wow! I can't believe you just did t
hat!"
There was a pause.
I can't believe I just did that, thought Hermione Granger, who was feeling a little faint all of a sudden, it must have been all that running. "Excuse (gasp) me," she said, "can you (gasp) Unjellyfy my legs?"
The boy nodded, pushed himself to his feet, and reached inside his robes for his wand; but Hermione had to correct his gesture before the counter-Jinx worked right.
"I'm Michael Hopkins," said the boy once Hermione had rolled back to her own feet. He stuck out his hand. "Or just Mike inside Hufflepuff, there aren't any other Mikes in all of Hufflepuff this year, would you believe it?"
They shook hands, and Mike said, "Anyway, thank you."
Hermione wasn't prepared for the rush of euphoria that hit her then, saving someone like that literally felt better than anything she'd ever felt in her whole life.
She turned to look at the bullies.
They were very big and they looked, she thought, around fifteen years old, and she was suddenly realizing just how large a difference had sprung up between Hogwarts students who'd signed up for all of Professor Quirrell's extra-curricular activities, and students who'd had years of being taught by the worst Professors ever to go Professing. Being able to hit things that you aimed at, for example; or being able to think well enough in the middle of a fight to realize that you ought to Innervate your fallen allies. And other things Professor Quirrell had said, like that in the real world almost any fight would be settled by a surprise attack, suddenly made a lot more sense to her.
Still trying to catch her breath, she looked back at Mike.
"Would you (gasp) believe," said Hermione Granger, "that five minutes ago I was (gasp) having trouble figuring out how to become a (gasp) hero?"
Had she really thought she needed permission from someone, or that heroes sat around waiting for someone else to give them quests? It was very simple actually, you just went where the evil was, that was all it ever took to be a hero. She should've remembered, she shouldn't have needed a phoenix to tell her, that bad things sometimes happened right here in Hogwarts.
Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality Page 110