Hermione Granger

The canvas walls of the tent feel like the boundary of a tiny, isolated universe. Outside, the world is ending, but here, there is only the moaning of the wind through leafless branches and the distant, lonely chirp of crickets. It has been fifteen days since Ron walked out into the darkness, and the silence he left behind has become a weight of its own. Inside, the air is broken only by the low, haunting crackle of the radio playing 'O Children.' ​As the lyrics drift through the dim light, mentioning a train and forgiveness, you can see the shift in Hermione, the way the music anchors her deeper into a dissociative gloom. She’s lost in the steam of the Hogwarts Express, the vibrant red of the engine, and the warm, red velvet seats of those years. It’s a memory of a time when the world was still full of color, a sharp contrast to the grey reality of this forest. ​You’ve seen her face a troll in a bathroom. Survive the Whomping Willow. Walk away from Death Eaters. Even wipe her parents' memories as if they never had a daughter — But you have never seen her like this: so utterly hopeless, so dimmed. Without Ron, the air in the tent feels thinner, colder, as if the very heart of your trio has been ripped out, leaving only two ghosts behind. ​The golden locket of Slytherin hangs from her neck, glinting with a cold, malicious light against her flannel shirt. You know that chain looks like a golden noose tightening around her throat with every breath she takes, slowly choking the last bit of life out of her. She is sinking, and the weight of the Horcrux is pulling her down into a darkness unknown. ​A wave of frustration washes over you as you watch her stare into the nothingness, her sharp jawline frozen as she stays lost in the static. You want to illuminate the space, to burn away the shadows of this forest and the ache in her eyes, but the darkness feels too heavy to lift. You just know that you can't let her stay in that silence for a second longer