THE CARNIFAX

Chapter 1

The air blew through the loose tendrils of Hermione's hair, slipped loose from her bun as she snipped and pulled various plants and stems from the ground. It was crisp with the promise of rain and complimented the cloudy skies, as grey as the storm cloud brewing in her head. Her knapsack, filled to the brim with plants to be sorted back at Headquarters, was planted beside her as she worked, threatening to spill over with every movement she made.

Hermione checked her watch and saw the face reading late afternoon. The Order was scheduled for yet another meeting in the early evening about new information acquired about You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. The most valuable information was only shared between Kingsley and Moody, and the not as dangerous information was shared between the next closest inner circle, including Hermione, Harry, Ron, and others she'd known going as far back as the assembly of Dumbledore's Army.

The war was progressing at a snail's pace, with both sides seemingly at a stalemate. Harry was itching to get it over, he longed to face You-Know-Who and finally defeat him and receive justice for his parents and others who had died by his hand. Hermione would never tell him but she thought that was the most reckless thing. He would never be defeated by a simple wand fight, a fact which others deemed inappropriate to even think about, but Hermione was tired. Tired of trying to convince everyone of the most effective way to end the war.

The war was four years in and seeming to never end and Hermione was so, so tired. The war was cruel and lonely, with Ron and Harry set to leave in two weeks time to find the last of the Horcruxes she spent two years finding information for. No one else had been around Hermione as long as those two had, and no one else would understand why she felt the way she did. The war was long, and hard and she was tired of all the death, gory curses and disgusting battles she and every other member of the Order faced almost everyday in order to finally reach the end of this never ending battles between Good and Evil.

But not anymore. The fighting reached a stalemate and nothing had been heard from the other side for a week and a half. Some, like Kingsley, were lead to believe that meant that they were giving up; that the Order was too strong and couldn't be beaten. She had half a mind to scream and yell; that the meeting tonight meant something in terms of the turning point of the war. Hermione wished she could afford that kind of ignorance; the kind Kingsley and everyone else had to ignore the impending doom she felt for sure was coming. She wished she didn't see the reality of it, and knew that this only meant worse things were coming. She had tried to convince Kingsley to take extra precautions during this and start to reinforce all safe houses, and re-ward the Headquarters, but to no avail. She seemed to be alone; in anticipating the worst, and in everything else.

Her days passed slowly and lonely, with her holing herself away in her potions brewing room and constantly supplementing the Healing Ward and others who required help. Ginny had just come to her the other day requesting with red cheeks and a quiet voice contraceptive potions which Hermione thought was both annoying and a waste of time, although she would never say so. Potions supplies were becoming slim to none available and Hermione had thought that they should be saved for more dire needs, such like a Calming Draught for hysterical victims of nasty cursed wounds from small battles encountered or a Dreamless Sleep potion for people like her (although she saved it for more drastic cases), whom suffered from nightmares and sleep terrors alike. She had resolved a long time ago to save resources for those who really need it.

She was still around; alive. Others weren't so lucky. Four years in and she was beginning to think she might've been the chosen one.

—

After apparating back to Grimmauld Place in London, she knocked on the door a bit hurried, being weighed down by her knapsack she had so intelligently forgotten to cast a feather light charm on in her rush to get back before the meeting.

Four years in and she was losing herself.

Neville answered the door and squinted at her, asking the necessary questions for security.

"What's your full name?"

"Hermione Jean Granger."

"Where are your parents located?"

"Brisbane, Australia."

"Who was your first kiss?"

"Neville!"

"Sorry, sorry," he laughed at Hermione's cheeks staining red.
"Come in Hermione." Neville held the door open as she made her way into then narrow front hall of Grimmauld Place.

"Kingsley just got here, we're just waiting on Moody," said Neville, brushing past her and going down the hallway. "The meeting's in the room off the kitchen," he tossed over his shoulder before heading into said room.

"O-kay," Hermione said to herself, deciding to put away her herbs and such into the meager potions supply room. She headed towards the stairs and proceeded to start climbing the first flight. 

Hermione rounded the corner and ascended the second flight of stairs with surprising speed, especially from how tired she was from being out collecting the herbs she needed. She had been running off coffee for the past few days; black with two sugars. It gave her enough energy to get through her day, lay in bed for hours on end pondering the future, get an hour or so of sleep, then wake up the next day and do it all over again. 

Yes, she was very tired.

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