You and I? Impossible

The End ( A New Beginning )

Death divides people into different slices: the fearful, unconscious, absent, the aware.

The fearful fear more than anything else, gripped by what could happen to them for all they did in this life.

The unconscious show that they are not afraid when the lack of breath leaves them sleepless.

Absent are souls dispersed on our black lands, waiting for the Savior's arrival.

Perhaps a non-existent Saviour, something to which they only cling in the hope that there is no end.

And finally, we leave room for aware ones: some of them face it by tearing all that they can grab from her hands, others deliver themselves to it, stop in their position, greeting it as an old friend.

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So the big day had arrived.

Minute more, minute less.

She woke up early in the morning, towards 6, and finished the preparation of the luggage.

And then the uniform.

She folded it carefully and placed it under the pillow.

She would not need it: first of all the clothes of the forties were slightly different, so it would have been a must not to use the current one, so as not to arouse any suspicion; And then, probably Dumbledore would have subjected her back to sorting, again for the same reason.

She crouched before her wardrobe, opened it and unlocked a double fold that had been applied last year, being sure that Hermione would become perfect.

She pulled out a black pitch chest: she grabbed it and transfigured it into a parchment, placing it in the trunk.

She took her diary: set in the centre of the cover there was a large bronze rampant dragon surrounded by a loose area, between greenery and blue, the corners were protected by supports, also bronze, adorned

- Evanesco -

She holds it with a cloth, no longer able to see it: in this way, she could identify it when she wanted.

She had decided to make it disappear and for a good reason.

Anyone who had read it would have known things that she would have preferred to hold.

She wore some sloppy clothes, but cleaned, as Dumbledore recommended.

Olive green shirt, beige trousers and brown shoes.

She tried to dissolve the knots in her hair carefully, and then miserably fail.

She looked at herself in the mirror: a tired face undermined by the weather.

She snapped her fingers and here she assumed a new expression.

Determination.

Her monstrous self-control was one of the few things that could allow her a little advantage, but also Riddle would not have been less of that.

She took the last things from under her mattress and placed them under a double-fourth she had placed in the suitcase.

All ready.

She triggered it, then never reopened it again.

- Hey, "said Hermione, making her understand she was conscious.

She tried to sit in a compound manner, succeeding not with a few efforts.

- And so you leave me alone again? - asked the curly-haired, trying to play the situation.