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Hermione's finals are over, which is both a relief and a disappointment. She still feels like she needs something to do, which is why she's still got her Potions book open on her desk so she can go back to it every now and then when she needs to take a break from packing, or when she's not thinking of another phone call she needs to make. She'll be going on holiday with her parents tomorrow, or late tonight, and she'd much rather be prepared.

After a while, she hears a little tapping on the window. She doesn't recognize the owl, but lets it in and unties the envelope from its leg. She did write to Dumbledore when they were looking for Cedric, but hadn't heard back, and she figures that's what this is.


Dad's in St. Mungo's. We'll let you know when we know more.


That doesn't give her much information, but she actually has more tact than to write another letter asking a thousand questions. "Wait right there," she tells the owl, and writes a quick letter offering support and promising to check in later before letting the owl go on its way.

And right now skiing in France doesn't really sound that appealing.

[Openish. Will be going shopping for a little bit, but around other than that. Door's open.]


Hermione Granger

December 2011

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