"Well, I suppose I have little choice but to accept your request." McGonagall said to Matt. "I'll see to it you receive a list of things you'll need. Although you're behind in some ways, ahead in others." McGonagall gave a sigh.
Matt carefully stood to follow her as she beckoned the two of them into the castle. Hermione was quick to stand as well. She moved to help Matt, but he had already regained his footing as he climbed awkwardly up the steps. She followed him, waiting behind a moment, just in case.
Hermione grinned to herself; it was weird being on the other end of chivalry. Not that she needed someone to stand behind her as she walked up steps but the thought that She could catch this stranger if needed, was odd to her. Hermione was a lot stronger than she appeared. Once the boy made it to the top of the steps, she then followed him up.
"Miss Granger, do me one favor. Go see Madam Pomfrey, and let her look you over, please." McGonagall had either sensed something was off with her best student or someone had told her some of what she and the boys had gone through. Hermione did not argue and simply did as she was asked. Matt and McGonagall spoke as they moved back into the school and Hermione made her way to the Hospital Wing
She moved through the castle with ease. This was like home to her, and even though parts of it had been destroyed during the last battle with Voldemort, it appeared to be rebuilt in its entirety. This gave her a keen sense of satisfaction, that no matter what, Hogwarts was still around.
A short while later, Hermione found herself outside the Hospital Wing and shook her head. She sincerely hoped that this would be one of the last times she would need to visit this part of the castle again. There were no plots to kill Harry, no Muggle-born killers on the loose, no evil wizards masquerading as professors to trap them. No, it would be just a normal school year, at last.
Hermione smirked to herself as she entered. There was no way this would be a normal year, there was no such thing as a standard school year at Hogwarts. Not with a foreign transfer student now attending classes alongside her. Especially not a foreign exchange student who had survived the destruction of one of the great wizarding schools.
Madam Pomfrey came out from her office and asked Hermione to remove her clothes, so that Madam Pomfrey could begin the exam. Madam Pomfrey poked and prodded her, casting diagnostic spells and taking measurements of her scars on her abdomen, arm, and neck. Hermione waited as Madam Pomfrey took some fluid samples, casting more spells to be certain and as she double checked her results.
While Hermione waited, she wondered whether she would be considered an eighth-year student or if she would be considered a seventh-year student. Half of her wanted to be more secluded so she did not have to answer a bunch of her housemates' questions, but another part, maybe a bigger part, wanted to be with the other Gryffindors. She secretly yearned for social interaction outside of the Weasley family.
"Alright, you can get dressed now. I'll send an owl with the final results in a few days." Madam Pomfrey said.
"Thank you so much." Hermione responded; her voice full of gratitude. Just as she finished wrapping her scarf around her neck to round out her outfit, Matt limped in.
"Oh hey! Fancy meeting you here." He grinned wryly at her.
"Why are you here?" she asked, genuinely confused.
"Remember, Partially Permanent Resident." Matt quipped. "That and I've been wearing borrowed clothing for the past few months. Figured it was time I actually looked at what came with me."
"It isn't much I'm afraid." Madam Pomfrey said and placed a pile of incredibly dirty robes on his bed.
Matt sifted through the robes and held them up. Hermione was taken aback. They were ripped, torn, tattered and barely there. Blood, mud, soot, and other things stained them. He turned them over and shook his head.
"Well, there's at least one patch that's untouched…" he said referring to a small piece of cloth at the armpit.
"How?" Hermione asked, stunned.
"Did I survive? Not. A. Clue." Matt replied for emphasis. He rummaged in his pockets and looked surprised, even happy. "Aha! All is not lost." He pulled out four things from his robes, all of which fit into one hand.
Matt laid them on the bed: A red Swiss Army Knife, a golden key, his wand, and a small silver thing. Hermione studied the items. The key was clearly to a Gringotts vault, the Swiss Army knife she recognized but did not understand, the wand was self-explanatory, although it looked damaged. The fourth item she neither recognized nor understood. It was pewter colored with an oblong saucer disc, sitting on top of a T-shaped body with a pair of flattened cylinders hanging off the T-shaped body.
"What is that?" Hermione asked, pointing to the pewter figure.
"Something fate protects." Matt replied cryptically. She thought she caught a tiny bit of script on the saucer, something beginning with the letter 'E.' He gave a sigh and sat down on the bed. "Well looks like I need all new clothes, new robes and…" he held up his wand.
Hermione gasped. Initially, it appeared to be intact, but on closer inspection, it was severely burned on one side and barely hanging on, the core exposed.
"Is that…?" she began to ask.
"Dragon heartstring, dogwood." Matt said dejectedly. "Damn, this was a good wand too. But I suppose I could use something with bit more versatility." He said as he looked at his cane.
"So, you'll always need a cane now?" Hermione asked.
"I hope not. But with it being at least partially magically induced, and No-Maj's working on me, who knows?"
"No-Maj?" Hermione's nose scrunched up as she was trying to understand what he meant. She was not sure if this was an American only branch of magic or something else.
"Oh right! Uh, Muggles is the term you use." Matt said. "Sorry, I'm still getting used to the local terminology."
"Ah, Mr. Santini, there you are. Here is your supply list. I can see it will be growing." McGonagall said as she swept into the Hospital Wing and observed the tattered remains of his clothing.
"I got the key though! To the vault, in Gringotts, back in America, thousands of miles away…" His voice fell and he realized it was going to be exceedingly difficult to get what he needed.
"Well, I suggest you send an owl immediately to Gringotts here in London. They should be able to sort you out. A word Miss Granger?" McGonagall pulled Hermione to the outer hallway and out of earshot.
"Yes Headmistress?" Hermione wondered what her Headmistress was up to.
"As you well know, Ilvermorny is gone and with it their records. We have no way of knowing where he is in terms of his education." Professor McGonagall began. "I would like you to evaluate him, see where he needs improving in, get a reading. I would hate to put him in over his head. And if he needs, tutor him."
"Of course, Professor." Hermione agreed.
"Good, you have two weeks to get him up to snuff. Use your own discretion on what methods you use." McGonagall said.
"May I enlist the aid of some of the other students?" Hermione asked with a wry smile of her own.
"I encourage it. I assume you mean Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood?"
"Yes, they would be the first ones I would ask…"
McGonagall nodded and added "He could use a bit of a tour, as well. He knows the grounds well enough; I dare say, but nothing more. He has been cooped up inside for the entire summer. A trip out may help that leg more than he realizes."
"I'll be happy to, Professor." Hermione said. She felt good, a new task, something to take on and giving a slight distraction, it may be what she needed to help keep her focused.
Hermione returned to the Burrow with a spring in her step and a much brighter outlook than when she had left early that morning. For the first time in two years, she felt excited about returning to Hogwarts. What would have amounted to her final year she had spent running, hunting, and being hunted. To say nothing of the torture and death that had surrounded her.
"Hermione…" Ron started as soon as she stepped out of the fireplace. "Look, about earlier…"
"It's okay Ronald, I forgive you." She said, although a small part of her did not believe herself.
"I just don't want you to go and get yourself hurt." He spoke.
"Oh, come on! I'm not like you and Harry going off to look for stones in dungeons, fighting a Basilisk, or storming the Ministry." Hermione sighed as she sat down on the couch next to Ron.
"Hey, you were there for some of those, too!" Ron smiled.
"Only to make sure you didn't get yourselves killed!" came the retort.
"What about getting ourselves killed?" came a voice from the kitchen.
"Harry!" Hermione leapt up from the couch and ran over to give her closest friend a hug. "I'm so happy to see you! Ronald told me that you are both Aurors now!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm really good. It's been really crazy since the Ministry is still getting back on its feet. Shacklebolt though, he's a good Minister of Magic and we've both got offices now.
I'm excited to be doing what I'm good at for once." Harry explained, as he hugged her back.
"Oh, you've always been good. You were a great Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher during our fifth year. And you did what no one thought possible! Don't sell yourself short." Hermione said, resuming her position on the couch.
"Thanks Hermione, you're the best." Harry said with a smile. There was a small sound from behind him as Ginny appeared at his side, slipping her arm around Harry's. "Right. Ginny and I are going out, see you two later!" Harry said as the couple stepped through the door and out into the garden before Disapparating.
"Ronald, I'd like to talk to you about something…" Hermione started to say but Ron was already getting up and yawning.
"Sure, but can it wait until tomorrow? I'm dead tired." He said before adding "Goodnight!" as he trudged up the staircase to his room. Hermione sighed; she guessed it would have to wait until later. As opposed to going to bed herself, as it felt too early for that, she decided to do some light reading and grabbed a book to sit down by the fireplace, alone. She had not even realized she had started to cry, until she noticed tear drops on the pages of her book. The loneliness gnawed at her.