“And I've been... what, unconscious?” - “Not exactly,” said Hermione. “You've been shouting and moaning and... things...”

J. K. Rowling: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," GB adult version (2007) – p. 283

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Hermione Granger's and Harry Potter's hiding place

Early Christmas Day 1997

Hermione was still perplexed with the mysterious missive and the memory vial when Harry started to painfully groan on his bunk bed. Worried, the girl unconsciously tucked the piece of parchment in her pocket and bent over her friend. Harry's forehead was drenched in sweat now and Hermione felt a new wave of panic coming over her. “Hurts,” Harry moaned in his state of unconsciousness, his features twitching in pain and Hermione felt her eyes filled with tears and the moisture started to run down her cheeks. Angrily, she swept the tears off with the back of her hand. I have to help now, not make things worse, she thought, determined not to fail Harry now.

The girl forced herself to order her thoughts and since the first things ought to be dealt with first, she flicked her wand and conjured a small, soft sponge out of the thin air and began to dry Harry's face. Still unconscious, the boy started to laugh at that moment – an evil, unearthly sound, however quiet – and Hermione's eyes immediately fell to his chest. There, beneath Harry's sweaty T-shirt, Hermione knew was the Horcrux, and it occurred to her then how the pendant influenced them all – influenced Ron. She was not going to lose another friend to the damned thing, she thought furiously and pulled Harry's T-shirt up. The Horcrux was stuck to Harry's chest when she tried to take it off and Hermione didn't hesitate and drew her wand to get the evil thing off her friend.

“Secerno!“ she incanted resolutely and expertly moved her wand around the edges of the ancient metal. For a while, nothing obvious happened; then, finally, the locket slid to the side and Harry's bare skin showed, revealing a dark red oval mark where the locket had rested before. Hermione grabbed the Horcrux before it could fall to the ground and hid it in her beaded bag; allowing herself a little sigh of relief when it was accomplished.

But apparently, to take the Horcrux of Harry's chest was not enough. Harry again laughed, more evilly than before, and hissed, his voice strangely disappointed: “So easy... Too easy!“ Her friend was still speaking in human voice but Hermione thought that the sound was not far from Parseltongue now and felt the panic anew rising in her chest.

Then, suddenly, Harry sat up, his eyes still closed. The well-known Phoenix-corded wand appeared in the boy's hand and Harry aimed it, obviously completely unaware of his actions, directly at Hermione's chest. “Avada...“ Hermione saw forming on his lips and before the shock took completely over her, she somehow managed to catch Harry's hand and force it together with the deadly wand to the side. “...Kedavra,“ Harry finished and a stream of the terrible green light illuminated the tent, boring a small circular hole in the canvas wall where it reached it. Hermione stared at the light of death, disgusted and yet fascinated despite her.

The wand, infused by the force of the killing curse, fell from Harry's hand then and hit the ground. Probably already damaged from Bathilda's house, the wood broke and Hermione stared at the wreckage in a new shock. “No, oh no,“ was all she was able to think, painfully aware of how much Harry loved the wand. “I am so sorry, Harry!“ she whispered, tears rolling out of her eyes.

The boy started muttering in answer and Hermione knew he was still trapped in his vision or nightmare or whatever it was. “Stand aside, stand aside... Stand aside, you silly girl!“ her friend was repeating in the same, emotionless voice he had used before and once again, Hermione heard the words of the killing curse. To her great relief, Harry, this time wandless, now only harmlessly moved his hand to accompany the words.

Hermione shuddered then, suddenly thinking she knew what Harry was witnessing in his fever dream. She couldn't stop her tears anymore when the boy went from his previous mimicking Voldemort to mirroring his own baby cries. He had to be seeing Godric's Hollow that unfortunate night more than fifteen years ago and reliving everything that had happened there back then. Hermione couldn't quite imagine the horror of it.

And then, there was the pained expression again and tears running down Harry's cheeks and the boy groaning: “No, no, no...” and finally, disappointed: “I dropped it... I dropped it...” Sometimes in between, Hermione started to shake Harry's shoulders, not having the stomach to witness her friend's suffering any longer. “Harry, it's all right, you're all right!” She heard herself speaking from far away and then found herself crying, feeling quite desperately: “Harry, it's OK, wake up, wake up!”

An endless moment later, the well-known green eyes were looking at her, finally aware, and Hermione came back to herself. “Harry,” she whispered, “Do you feel all – all right?”

When he replied “Yes,” she knew he was lying. Forcefully, she swallowed her tears and tried to smile at him.

“We got away,” Harry said, surprised and she nodded her yes and started to explain, somehow managing to stay reasonably calm. But then he saw his severed wand and pleaded with her to repair it – and Hermione knew that she couldn't mend it and that it was her fault the wand had been broken.

“Harry, I am so, so sorry,” she found herself saying, refusing to tell him what he had almost done while unconscious. “I think it was me,” she admitted quietly and then she lied that it was the Blasting Curse that broke the holly and phoenix-feather Ollivander's work because she couldn't bear it to tell him the truth.

Hermione fully understood when Harry stumbled out of his bed and her sight to mourn privately then – but it hurt her nevertheless. In her total exhaustion, the girl silently cried, for whatever reason maintaining her previous place by Harry's, now vacated, bed...

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