CHAPTER ELEVEN.
GELLERT GRINDELWALD

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For days, Rosalie saw Hermione nurse Harry back to health after what happened in Godric's Hollow. She would've helped, but the Allen girl had no experience with medicine or nursing someone back to health. Though, she thought that Hermione didn't either, but with the amount of reading the other girl did, surely she had come across something that helped guide her through it all.

They took turns on watch. Rosalie usually took the nights, seeing as Harry was much louder and in more pain during those hours and Hermione was the one with the soothing herbs and healing spells. During the day, though, she either slept or read Dumbledore's journal, anything to keep her from thinking.

Voldemort knew that Harry would go to Godric's Hollow, of course he did, and he had Nagini there to alert him when it happened. She was so stupid, the snake probably saw her and told him about her being there and not leading the Potter boy to him. That would be bad, but she could lie. She didn't want Harry to be caught, she didn't want him to die at the hands of his enemy, she wanted him to live. He was the only hope in the war, her only hope, and she would hate to see him dead.

But, that day, Harry finally awoke, stepping outside the tent to see the morning light that shined down on Rosalie and Hermione. He stopped for a moment, seeing the way the light perfectly hit the back of Rosalie, how she shined, how beautiful and peaceful she looked before shaking those thoughts away. He couldn't think like that, he barely even knew her.

"You've outdone yourself this time," the two girls heard behind them. Turning around, Rosalie saw Harry standing there and admiring the view.

"The Forest of Dean," Hermione answered, "I came here once with my mum and dad, years ago. It's just how I remember it. The trees. The river. It's like nothing's changed. Not true, of course. Everything's changed. If I brought my parents here, they wouldn't recognize any of it. Not the trees. Not the river. Not...me."

Rosalie looked at the girl with sympathy. It would kill her to think that her mother, if the woman was still alive, didn't remember her. Her father, though, she wished he had forgotten about her a long time ago.

"Where are they?" Harry asked her.

"Wendell and Monica Wilkens now reside happily in Sydney, Australia. They have two dogs, run a small sweet shop, but floss daily. No children," her sad smile then faded, "Maybe we should just stay here, guys. Grow old."

Rosalie shook her head, "I don't think so. I'm not the biggest fan of camping, would rather live in a house than a tent. But you know, that's just my opinion."

"Right," Hermione nodded before changing the conversation topic, "You wanted to know who the boy in the photograph was, right Harry? Well, I know."

Hermione held up a book that was in her lap (The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore by Rita Skeeter) before speaking, "It was in Bathilda's sitting room. Rita Skeeter had sent it to her. Harry, it doesn't make for very nice reading –"

"Who is he, Hermione?" Harry fired, "The thief? Did Dumbledore know him?"

"Yes."

"Well?"

"For a time."

"Tell me, Hermione," Harry demanded his friend, "Who is he?"

"Gellert Grindelwald," Hermione sighed, "He's not very well known in Britain, but there was a time, before You-Know-Who..."

"Hermione, I don't need to have A History of Magic to know who Gellert Grindelwlad is," Harry cut her off.

"When Grindelwald was seventeen, he was expelled from Durmstrang. He'd started doing some twisted things at school – experiments. A few teachers had always protected him, but they couldn't anymore. After he left, he traveled for a while, then ended up in Godric's Hollow where his great aunt lived, Bathilda Bagshot."

"Get to the hard part, Hermione," Harry said, annoyed.

"She introduced him to Dumbledore. It made sense. Dumbledore's mother had just died, Grindelwald was troubled and they were both brilliant – they'd never really had anyone they could talk to on the same level. They did a lot of talking that summer. But they always returned to one particular subject," Hermione let out a shaky breath, "Wizard rule over muggles."

"And Dumbledore believed in it?" Harry choked out, not wanting to believe that his mentor believed in that.

"Yes," Hermione nodded, hating it as well.

"For the Greater Good. What does that mean?" Harry asked, looking at the photo again.

"It was saying that Dumbledore created," Rosalie forced her way into conversation, "Basically saying that anything they did against muggles was for the greater good – for wizard supremacy."

"Excuse me, but how do you know so much about this?" Hermione questioned the girl, her suspicions rising.

"The journal," Rosalie held it up, "There's a lot in here about it. About that summer when he believed everything that Grindelwald told him. He wanted Grindelwald to be proud of him, so he did everything in his power to make him proud."

Harry shook his head in anger, hating all that he was hearing. Hermione, seeing this, tried to calm him down. "It was a different time, Harry. It was one summer. Dumbledore was young –"

"We're young, Hermione," Harry snapped, "And here we are, risking our lives to fight against the very thing Dumbledore supported."

"He changed, Harry," Hermione stressed, "Years later, it was Dumbledore who put Grindelwald in prison."

Harry shook his head, "So?"

"Ariana died because of him," Rosalie spoke in defense of their old Headmaster, "His sister. Dumbledore and his brother got in a fight over Grindelwald and the effect he had over Dumbledore. Grindelwald joined as well, and before they knew it, Ariana walked in. He didn't know who exactly killed her, but he blamed himself. He broke out of the trance he was placed under around Grindelwald, his brother began to hate him, and nothing was ever the same. Does that make any difference to you?"

Harry just sighed. He looked at the photograph one more time before tossing the book away. "Where's my wand? I'll take the watch," Harry asked.

Hermione hesitated, looking at Rosalie who gave her a look to say not to drag her into it. "Hermione," Harry noticed her expression, "Where's my wand?"

She pointed to near the fire, seeing the shattered stick. Gently, Harry picked it up to see that it was nearly severed in two.

"It's my fault. As we were leaving Godric's Hollow, I cast a curse and it rebounded...I'm sorry, Harry, I tried to mend it but wands are different –" Hermione rambled.

"It's done," Harry finished, looking down at his broken wand with the same expression as it.

The continued on, Hermione feeling guilty for what she had done and Harry disagreeing before finally the Granger girl went back inside the tent. Harry stared at his broken wand.

"She didn't mean to," Rosalie told him sincerely, "She spent nights trying to mend it, even started crying when she realized she couldn't."

Harry smiled at her, "It's fine. I wish there was something that could fix it, but nothing came, and that's that."

She nodded, "Like with Ron? How you can't do anything to change what happened between the two of you."

Apprehensively, he nodded. "Ron's been my best friend for so long, and I just discarded that like it was nothing. I wish I could go back in time and fix my mistakes, but I can't. You were right, I shouldn't have let him go. The one thing I don't understand, is why you care so much and you barely even know us."

Rosalie gulped. "I once did that. Some things were said and I gave up my friends because of it. I regret it, I do, and I wish I could go back in time and knock some sense into my younger self. Everything would've been better if I kept them around, but I felt like I didn't deserve them at the time, so I let them go. I ignored them until they got the hint, and I regret everything I did."

Harry nodded, and nothing else was said. There was an understanding there at least. They were both idiots at one time or another, and let some kind of emotion get the best of them. For Harry, it was anger. That emotion always had a hold on him, causing some rational decisions to be planned. For Rosalie, it was fear. Her insecurity, the fear of being nothing. For so long, she believed that she would forever be Nothing, so she let the two people that made her feel like Something leave, and she would never forgive herself for that.

€

"Hermione! Rosalie!" the Allen girl stirred in her sleep, the first time in a week that she had gotten her rest at a proper time.

There was an urgent tone to Harry's voice, but Rosalie didn't want to get up. She wanted to stay in her cot, sleep, and forget the world around her. But, she knew that she couldn't.

Standing up, swaying slightly from how unbalanced she was, she made her way outside the tent, squinting to see from the morning sun and rubbing her eyes.

"Everything all right?" Hermione asked, her voice raspy from just waking up.

"Fine. Actually...more than fine," his voice was cheery as he stepped aside to reveal Ronald Weasley. Rosalie rubbed her eyes furiously, thinking it was just a trick of her mind, but Hermione went past Harry and towards the ginger boy.

"Hey," Ron smiled, but then, Hermione began to punch him, "Wo – hey – ouch!"

"You – complete – arse – Ronald – Weasley," Hermione screamed at him, continuing to punch the boy as she did. "You crawl back here after all these weeks and say, 'Hey?'" she then turned to around, "Where's my wand? Harry, where's my wand!"

Harry placed his hand over his pocket, "Um...I don't know?"

"Harry Potter, you give me my wand!" Hermione screamed at him, furious.

Rosalie knew that she wasn't actually angry. Hermione had been so worried about the ginger boy, stressing on and on about him, only to find that he had been alright the whole entire time, not coming back with all the answers she wanted and a monologue of an apology. But, this was Ron Weasley they were talking about, the small things counted with him.

"How come he's got your wand?" Ron asked, confused as to what was happening.

As Rosalie was about to answer him, Hermione spoke, "Never mind why he's got my wand – what is that?"

She stopped, staring at the blackened locket dangling in Ron's hand. Rosalie, too, then noticed it. "You destroyed it?" Hermione asked, glancing at Harry. He indicated to Ron, who then nodded to the ground, where they then saw the Sword of Gryffindor stuck in the ground.

"By Merlin," Rosalie whispered, mesmerized by it. "It can't be..."

"And exactly how is it you have the Sword of Gryffindor?" Hermione asked them.

"It's a long story," Harry looked at Ron, a look of admiration in her eyes as she did.

"Don't think this changes anything," Hermione stubbornly told Ron.

"No, of course not. I only destroyed a bloody freaking Horcrux! Why would that change anything! Do you know what it was like for me to hear those words coming from you! To see you doing those things –" Ron stopped after that.

"See me doing what things?" she asked, only to get no answer. "What happened out there?" she then asked Harry.

"It's a long story," Harry repeated, at a loss for words then.

"Um, I'd like to know what happened as well," Rosalie spoke up, "You can't expect us to just go along with 'it's a long story' when you brought back the Sword of Gryffindor."

Ron sighed, ignoring her words. He needed to redeem himself in Hermione's eyes first. "Look, I wanted to come back the minute I'd left. I just...didn't know how to find you."

"Exactly how did you find us?" Harry asked his friend, throwing a casual glance to Rosalie as he found himself doing as of late.

"With this," Ron held out the one thing Dumbledore left them; the Deluminator. "It doesn't just turn off lights. I don't know exactly how it works, but Christmas morning I – I was sleeping – in this little pub – I'd given some Snatchers the slip the night before, me being a blood-traitor and all – anyway, I was sleeping when I heard it..."

"It?"

"A voice," Ron turned to Hermione, "Your voice, Hermione. Coming out of this/"

"And what may I ask did I say?" Hermione asked, refusing to look at him, knowing that if she did she would immediately forgive him. She needed him to work for her forgiveness.

"My name. Just my name. Like a whisper," he answer, causing Hermione, was perfectly stiff, to blush the tiniest bit. Rosalie smiled. "So I took this and I clicked it and this tiny ball of light appeared. And I knew."

"Knew what?"

"Just knew. On account of Hermione's voice. And sure enough, it floated toward me, the ball of light, right to my chest and then – went straight through – right here," he pointed to his heart, "I could feel it inside me. It was warm, like the first sip of a good cup of tea. And I knew it would take me where I needed to go. So I Disapparated and came out on this hillside. It was dark. I didn't have any idea where I was. I just had hope one of you would show yourselves in the end. And you did."

Hermione didn't look at him, hiding her face as she was sure there was a mighty blush being sported that she didn't want them to see. In a rush, she ran inside to the tent, and the others let her live.

"Do you reckon she hates me?" Ron asked, a little bummed out by that.

"No," Rosalie shook her head, "She isn't mad at you at all, she's just being stubborn. Doesn't want to forgive you quite yet."

"And why's that?" Ron asked again, her being the one who could possibly understand what was going through Hermione's brain.

The Allen girl only smiled at them. It was sweet, kind, and it temporarily made them forget about everything that was happening around them. "It's good to have you back, Ron," and it was the most sincere thing to ever leave her mouth.