A/N: This is supposed to be my entry for the 2020 Quantum Bang but I decided to withdraw from the fest.

The idea for this fic started when I saw a post on Harmony & Co that tackled the effects of a love potion-induced conception.

GOD SAVE THE CHILDREN

by: tweety-src-clt9

CHAPTER ONE: In Death, Deceits Are Revealed

Fifty-year-old Hermione Granger–Weasley, the Minister for Magic of Wizarding Britain, sat behind her large oak desk. Her fiftieth birthday was barely a month ago, but she felt her age in her aching body. She was not certain if it's because of the tortures she endured during the war or the stress that piled up in her years while climbing the ranks at the ministry, but at fifty, she felt so old. Nobody knew about the recurring headaches and body pain that she had been experiencing ever since she hit the age of forty-five. And every year since then, it just seemed to get worse.

After the annual mandatory health check-up for all incumbent ministry employees, she was saddened at the results of her tests. Per the healer who was in charge of her health scan, she had some sort of unknown and incurable disease. The worst part, her days were numbered and she told nobody about this disheartening news. Even her husband, Ronald, had no idea that she was suffering from an illness that would be taking her life soon.

Why would she tell him when he hardly ever talked to her nowadays? Besides, he was busy indulging himself with more pleasurable pursuits. She knew that he was secretly having an affair with a much younger blonde witch. She was even aware that the relationship started five years ago. Even if it hurt her pride that he was cheating on her with a younger and frankly, more attractive woman, she had long accepted it. At least when she was gone, Ron had someone to care for him.

Now if she could only find someone that she could entrust her beloved children to then she could die in peace. Rose and Hugo may be all grown-up now, but as a mother, she wanted to find someone trustworthy who would love and support them when she passed on.

She sighed sadly as she thought about her children. Both of them were thriving in their careers with Rose following her footsteps in the ministry and Hugo was chosen to be the first-string keeper for the Falmouth Falcons after three years of intensive Quidditch training.

Rose had Scorpius Malfoy, her boyfriend of six years so she at least was certain that her daughter had someone in her life supporting her unconditionally. On the other hand, there was Hugo who inherited Ron's happy-go-lucky personality. The worst part, despite her children's seemingly great life, they just didn't click with her. It was like her children hated her for some unknown reason.

She was actually afraid of the uncertain future.

Despite the innocent façade of success and excellence her children (most especially Rose) had on their freckled faces, she just had a gut feeling that something was utterly wrong with them. Maybe she was a failure as a mother but she just could not help thinking there was something sinister with her eldest child. Even Hugo, at times, displayed a certain hollowness in his eyes that was truly disconcerting.

Even when they were little, she noticed that Rose and Hugo were different compared to the other children they grew up with. While Victoire, Louis, and Freddie were rambunctious and active, she could not help but observe a certain sly cunning in her children that were rather scary at times, especially with the emptiness and unfeeling look in their chocolate brown eyes. While people had commented that her eyes were like windows to her soul, with her emotions all on display, Rose and Hugo's eyes were the exact opposite. She had mentioned it to Ron on many occasions but her husband only shrugged it off as some silly figment of her overly active imagination.

If Ron was right, she would never know. Now nearing the end of her life, she would never discover if her hunch was just that, or if it meant something more. As a mother though, she could only hope that her hunches were wrong. She only wanted what was best for her daughter and son even if they didn't care about her. Come to think about it, the only people her children seemed to care about was themselves. Oddly enough, Ron didn't seem to care about that fact as well. Her wayward husband was contented to just bask in the glory of having offspring who carried his name to successes in the ministry and the realm of professional Quidditch.

She sighed sadly as she thought about her worries. At this age, she didn't even have someone to vent out her frustrations to. At least in her thirties, she had her mum and dad to talk to. Now that her parents had passed on to their next great adventure many years ago, she truly felt alone in this world.

If only Luna weren't in Sweden going on another adventure with her husband, she mused. Through the years, since she lost her special connection with her once dearest friend, Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood–Scamander had filled that void. Luna, with her quirks and endless optimism, listened to her rants about her problems and passionate ideas about anything she had set her mind into.

Come to think about it, she could no longer remember the last time she had a decent conversation with Harry. Ever since the war ended, both of them were caught up in their whirlwind romances with the two youngest Weasleys. She married Ron just short of two years after the war and Ginny and Harry married the year after that.

Now, as she tried to recall the last time she shared a real discussion with her once best friend – about life, their children, or anything really – she could only remember an instance when they were still considered as undesirables in a Voldemort controlled Britain. That was a time when she and Harry were staying in the tent during that damnable Horcrux hunt.

Her last real heart-to-heart talk with Harry was at the tent when Ron had left them. That was more than three decades ago! They were at a war that seemed impossible to win. They were cold and all alone with no one but each other to hold on to. Despite all of their trials in that once turbulent times, at least she and Harry were able to engage each other in real conversations.

Nowadays, all they discussed was related to their work. With her as the Minister for Magic and him as the Head Auror, their relationship could best be described as boss and subordinate at best. They were civil, professional, and truth be told, cold. Their once warm and comforting friendship was now forgotten and all that was left was a façade of ministerial camaraderie. A semblance of unity as colleagues determined to fight for a united front, a peaceful British Magical Society with both of them as its leaders.

With a narrow window in her very full schedule, she was left sitting behind her desk with only the memories of how life just passed her by. The memories came flashing through her mind in a blur. It seemed that the only memories that made her feel a semblance of real emotion, most especially joy, was during her time at Hogwarts and with her parents when she was a little girl. Before the end of their fifth year, all of her feelings seemed to be real and throbbing... She felt alive... And then after that, she just floated by doing her best to survive.

Hermione Granger, what the hell happened to you, she wiped a tear that she did not even know was falling down her cheek.

She then remembered a famous statement by a reverend from the same congregation she and her parents used to hear service at. I remember having this sense of love like I've never experienced it before, Rev. Craig Darling's wise words about nearing death. As that quote reverberated on her mind, she sighed once again.

Was there a time that I truly felt a sense of love like I have never experienced it before? She asked herself. Scrambling through her memories again, her heart whispered that she did. At some point in her life, she did feel something that strong. She used to feel so much love. The sad thing though, she could not even remember whom that person she once felt so much love for. It was like there's a cloud on her head that made her forget about this person and the feelings they had given her.

When she heard a knock on the door, she absentmindedly replied, "please come in."

"Oh! Hello Rose, darling," she tried to flash a happy welcoming smile as her daughter entered the room. Whether she succeeded or not, she could not tell.

"Hello, mum," Rose greeted cheerfully. Despite the joy in her voice, it did not reach her eyes.

"What can I do for you, darling? Any trouble at the Department of Mysteries?" She asked with curiosity. As the rising star amongst the Unspeakables, Rose Granger–Weasley, the Brightest Witch of Her Generation, only visited her if she had a report or some obscure case to discuss with the Minister.

Rose frowned a little before schooling her features into calm politeness. Approaching her desk, Rose crouched down and kissed her on the cheek. Hermione was surprised at her daughter's actions for she very rarely showed affection especially when she grew up. She hid her surprise though because it made her happy to see this side of Rose.

"I brought you something, mum," Rose grinned as she took a seat in front of her.

"Oh? What is it, darling?"

"I brought you some fruit shake. I reckon you need something that can help you destress," Rose shrugged.

"Thank you, Rose," Hermione smiled at her daughter as she accepted the metal tumbler.

"It's a mixture of strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries, mum. Your favorite," Rose added.

"Aww! Thank you, darling," Hermione smiled genuinely as she opened the lid of the tumbler. Eagerly sipping on the fruit shake, she was rather hungry after all, Hermione thought that maybe her dark thoughts about her children were just silly musings of an aging witch nearing her death.

When she was halfway into the drink, Rose bid her goodbye saying that she didn't want to disturb her mother's precious time any longer. With a wave to her daughter, Hermione finished the rest of her drink.

oOOOOo

Three hours later, Minister Hermione Granger–Weasley merely gave out a strangled gasp, before succumbing to her death. She would be found cold and lifeless sitting on her desk with her head perched on top of the current auror reports by her ever-loyal secretary, Coleen Creevey, the eldest daughter of Dennis.

oOOOOo

Hermione Granger–Weasley woke up to what seemed like a large castle with opulent gold pillars and high ceilings. She did not understand what was happening. The last thing that she remembered, she was in the office of the Minister for Magic, feeling slightly dizzy once again but just like every single day, she pushed through with her work. She was reading a thorough report about a case up north. It seemed there was another unknown dark entity rising into power, something that had never happened ever since the poor attempts of Delphini Riddle a few years ago. This time though, she was so perturbed because this looming threat seemed scarier than ever. There was no distinct pattern in the attacks and the aurors under Harry's leadership had not discovered a strong lead yet.

Where am I? That was the lingering question in her mind as she stood up from the couch she presumed to have been sleeping on a few minutes ago. Seeing the elegantly decorated door engraved with a gold-plated crest at its center, she stood up and headed for that direction. Something about the door seemed to be calling her to enter so she took a deep calming breath and pulled on the golden handle. To her surprise, the heavy oak door was feather-light.

What blew her mind as she entered the door was the fact that she thought she would fall into the abyss. She gave out a frightened shrill as she stood – more like hovered – on scorching flames, anguished burnt bodies, an eternity of suffering in the fiery furnace of what could only be called as hell. Dante's Inferno was just a mild version of the darkness and torture underneath her.

Taking the risk, she looked up and this time around, a very pleasant sight greeted her eyes. This was the complete opposite of the tragedy she was hovering upon. The sight above her was so beautiful and so peacefully happy that it made her want to cry. The sky was so blue, the clouds were so fluffy, and the grass so lush. More importantly, the few people she could see walking along in clothes of silken white linen shone brightly against the backdrop of grass and sky in their glowing halos. Again, it was like Dante's Paradiso albeit it being more vividly beautiful and surreal.

Finally, it clicked. She woke up in this mysterious place because Hermione Jean Granger–Weasley was dead. After years of suffering from her mysterious illness, deteriorating every single day with only her healers in the know, she had finally succumbed to death.

Glancing around the seemingly never-ending room, she looked for a queue or anything really. She needed to find where she was supposed to be heading. She was certain that this place must be some sort of holding area, a place where one awaited judgment.

With that thought, she inwardly cringed as she started to panic. Will I be deemed worthy to enter eternal paradise? Or will I be doomed to never-ending damnation? Clearing her head of morbid thoughts, she looked around once again to find any sort of clue as to what she should be doing next.

Maybe there is a test here somewhere, she mused as she checked the endless line of emptiness. It was like she was standing in between two worlds. If she looked up there was joy and peace. If she looked down – no, she didn't need to see that horror once again.

Suddenly, a transparent double door she didn't notice simultaneously moved in opposite directions as it opened. She could not stop the gasp she let out when a young monk dressed in loose orange tunic matched with brown pants and some red boots exited from the glass-like doors. This boy's body was covered with tattoos of the same arrow design. He was carrying a long wooden staff of sorts but the craftsmanship was something she had not seen before. Instead of feeling scared or at the very least nervous, she felt calm and at peace. Something about this boy made her feel reassured. She knew that she could trust him. In a way, he reminded her of how the young Harry Potter used to make her feel just by being in his presence.

Standing slack-jawed in the middle of what could only be heaven and hell, she waited for the young monk to face her.

With a closed fist pressed against his open palm, the young monk respectfully bowed in front of her. Feeling the need to be polite, she imitated the gesture and offered a bow as well. When both of them stood upright, their eyes connected in a curious assessment. The young monk's dark brown eyes gave her a penetrating stare as if he was aiming to test the purity of her soul. She wanted to look away but she forced herself to not back down. If this was a test to enter the peaceful paradise above her, then she was determined to pass this test. She only hoped that she was deemed worthy.

"Welcome to the in-between, Avatar Hermione," the young monk greeted her with a friendly smile.

"A – avatar?" She stammered.

"Ah, yes. The knowledge of the powers of the avatar and elemental bending, the origin of magic, was lost to many generations through the years. Even the connection to the spirit world is severed," the young monk mused.

"Er, I'm sorry sir, but I'm totally – " Her statement was interrupted when the young monk started chuckling before he ended up in full-on bouts of laughter. Despite her confusion and the awkwardness of the situation, Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Please call me Aang or Avatar Aang," the young monk extended a hand to her. She awkwardly accepted it and they shook hands. She tried to give a firm grip but with a million questions running through her head, bothering her at wit's end, she just couldn't concentrate.

"You remind me of my Katara," Avatar Aang had a wistful smile on his face as he said that.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," she remarked with her eyebrows furrowing as her lips turned into a slight frown.

"Oh! Where are my manners? Sorry," Avatar Aang said sheepishly. Hermione could only watch in awe as he performed an elegant movement of his hands, something like Tai Chi or some other martial art, and then water appeared before it took the shape of an armchair that then hardened into ice. After that, there was a flame on Avatar Aang's hand and he levitated it on the right side to act as a torch that would keep them warm at the same time. She was so enamored with all the things she had seen that she did not even notice the slightly chilly atmosphere.

"Please…" Pointing to the conjured armchair, he urged her to sit down. Sensing that this was going to be a long discussion, she immediately complied. To her pleasant surprise, she did not feel cold despite the chair's material. The armchair felt comfortable and warm.

"Avatar Aang?"

"Yes, Avatar Hermione?"

"Er, just Hermione, please," she countered.

"Okay then. You have to promise to call me Aang though. All this Avatar stuff reminds me of the older incarnations," this was said with an eye roll.

"I am dead right?"

"Yes, you are. And this is what makes the Creator so sad. It's not your time to pass on yet," this was said with sadness and disappointment.

"Could you please explain everything to me Aang? I am very confused right now… For starters, why are you calling me Avatar Hermione? What is an Avatar anyway?" Hermione took a deep calming breath before she let herself explode in a series of rants. Despite the young friendly face, she was in the presence of a spiritual entity, someone who would surely have a say on whether or not she went to heaven or otherwise, for all eternity, so she must treat Aang with the utmost respect.

"I see Avatar Korra's impatience in you, dear one," Aang said in a mystical voice as he stared at her. She could feel herself starting to get impatient so she took a deep breath.

"And a bit like Avatar Roku too," Aang remarked as his eyes focused on her face.

"Aren't you going to – "

"Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. Only the Avatar, master of all four elements, could stop them, but when the world needed him most, he vanished – " Aang interrupted her by starting to tell a whimsical tale.

"Hold it! Look, Aang, you are a great storyteller that is for certain but I just don't understand where you're going with all this folklore? Besides, I don't need a history lesson, in as much as I enjoy reading, I need the condensed version for now. So, let's start with the basics. What is an Avatar and why am I one? If this Avatar thing even exists, why is it that no one in current magical society knows about it? It's not even alluded to even in the simplest of bedtime stories, I mean, even the whole Deathly Hallows and being the mantle of Death is narrated in children's folklore," Hermione ranted. To her utter annoyance, the young monk only laughed out loud. If only we were on equal footing here, I would so smack this monk on the head, she thought. Avatar Aang was more exasperating than a cheeky young Harry.

"Alright, sorry about that," Aang merely grinned at her after his laughter died out.

"Well?" She crossed her arms.

"The Avatar as I said is a powerful person. He or she can control the four elements. Fire. Air. Water. Earth. Long ago, nobody knew about magic. Instead, it was called bending. Bending is the special ability to command a specific element to do your bidding. No wands and tools are needed to focus on one's bending. You only need to perform movements; each element requires a certain style. Anyway, no matter how hard you try, no singular person could ever master all four elements except for the Avatar. The Avatar is the only person who is the bridge between the mortal world and the spirit world. Because of that, he is expected to bring balance through the use of his gifts of the four elements and to bring peace into the world," Aang explained.

"Alright, now I know what an Avatar is. But on to my second question, you mentioned this being the origin of magic, elemental bending as you called it. Could you expound on that?"

"In the olden times, when the world you knew and lived in bore no resemblance to what it once was; when there were no countries and much divide, there were two spirits – one good and the other evil. During a Harmonic Convergence, a supernatural phenomenon that occurs once every ten thousand years, the planets align and spiritual energy is greatly amplified. When that happens, the spirit portals of the north and south poles join together while an aura of spiritual energy encompasses the Earth. During this rare circumstance, Raava, the spirit of peace and light, battles with Vaatu, the spirit of darkness and chaos… Is everything understandable so far?" Aang confirmed.

"Yes, everything seems clear so far. Please continue," she nodded.

"So, that's the history of the battle among the spirits, right? Anyway, these oldest of spirits, Vaatu and Raava, combat each other for their entire existence. Given they have existed for ten thousand lifetimes before the first humans appeared, that's a rather long-standing feud, eh?" Aang joked and Hermione sighed in exasperation.

"Tough crowd," Aang snorted and she chuckled a bit.

"Alright, the origin of the spirits is explained really well… But, how did the Avatar come to be?"

"We're getting there, dear one. Learn to be patient, will you?" Aang huffed and this time around, she laughed out loud.

"Sorry, sorry," she chuckled.

"Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes! So, it's a cycle. A battle between good and evil blah blah blah, you're smart you could read between the lines… Right, so, during another harmonic convergence, Raava permanently merged her essence with Wan, a mortal. This merging between spirit and man created the first Avatar. Of course, there were a lot of things that happened in between, stuff you don't need to know right now but once you enter into an Avatar State, it would be made clear… Hmmm… What else should I tell you – " since Aang was all over the place, she cleared her throat.

"So… Any questions?" Aang gave her an expectant look.

"You seem to have lived long before the world I knew came to be… So, how did the legend of the Avatar stay hidden? Also, if you say the Avatar could bend the elements, without a wand at that, then why can't I do it?" Hermione Granger in her lifetime was remarkably brilliant but this entire story seemed farfetched. She was a powerful witch, yes. But she was no Harry Potter, let alone Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard she had ever met.

"As human beings started to be more and more civilized from the way it once was – with only four nations, the Earth Kingdom, the Water Tribes, the Air Nomads, and the Fire Nation – things started to change and bending evolved into what you now call magic. What once, was an ancient spiritual art of elemental telekinesis, bending was forgotten in the pursuit of wand magic or ritual magic in some cultures. You see, bending is hard to master. It takes many years to master a single element. Humans being inherently lazy, the practice became forgotten and buried in scrolls that no one bothers to read anymore," Aang sighed.

"I am still confused. If you say that magic started as elemental bending, then why is it that magicals who use wands can make fire and water for example?" Hermione frowned. She could see the valid points in Aang's explanations but there were loopholes.

"Alright… What are the core courses you learned at Hogwarts?" Aang gave her a challenging look.

"Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, History of Magic, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, and Herbology. Oh, and there are flying lessons that are only compulsory in the first year. You can drop it in the second year," she immediately answered.

"Let's dissect that shall we. Transfiguration, it's the art of changing something into something else right? Well, don't you see its relationship to the Earth and Water?" Aang prodded and she was silent for a few seconds before she nodded pensively.

And then, Aang showed her what he meant. Aang closed his eyes, kicked the ground and raised his hands. She didn't notice that instead of hovering in-between what looked like heaven and hell, they were now located on a large floating rock. So, she only watched in amazement as the rock levitated at Aang's command before it formed into a ball and then changed shape. Aang carefully dropped the rock which now had his likeness molded on one side.

"Amazing!" She muttered.

"Right? Now watch this!" Aang made a slashing movement with his right hand and then, he circled his hand twice before thrusting it forward and a wall of flowing water rose from the large puddle of water that surrounded their hovering rock. To her surprise, he once again manipulated the water as it formed a new figure that then hardened into an ice sculpture in her image and likeness. He levitated the ice sculpture beside his own.

"Okay. Now I see your point," she remarked.

"Haven't you noticed that each magical person has a distinct special affinity? For example, your friend Seamus Finnigan – "

"He sets things on fire!" She exclaimed.

"And Neville Longbottom – "

"Oh my! Yes! Neville loves plants so his element is Earth," she supplied.

"Of course, there's your Harry – "

"He's not my Harry," she glared at Aang before she continued, "and yes, it's obvious his element is air."

"See? All magicals have one particular affinity. Bending may have evolved through time, as it should. The non-magicals have already visited the moon for crying out loud, something that Yue and Tui, the moon spirits find very ironically amusing," Aang said smugly.

"Hmmm… I guess you're right. Now, I see it… But, while I appreciate the explanation, with the history of magic and all that, why am I the Avatar? I have never shown an affinity for an element. Let alone ALL the elements! Especially flying," she said pensively.

"Think Hermione… As a little girl, when did you start noticing that you were different, or shall I say, special? When did you notice that you were not the same as your non-magical peers?" Aang challenged.

"Well, my mum said that I levitated my books… My bushy hair also rippled with energy, with some sort of non-existent wind when my emotions went haywire as a child… My dad said I set my vegetables on fire when I didn't like to eat them… I do love bluebell flames, so that could be the fire bending talent… Oh! And I do remember that when I only wished it, the pebbles in our garden changed forms into whatever I wanted them to be," she recalled with her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she tried to think of memories that could somehow prove or disprove her elemental gifts.

"See? Don't you see a pattern now?" Aang grinned.

"Yes, I see it now. You are right once again… But – but what happened to me?" She frowned as she looked at the now smiling monk.

"Now this is the part that I'm worried about, to be honest," Aang said sheepishly.

"Why?" She was curious. She desperately wanted to know what happened to her. She needed to understand why her life ended so abruptly and why she felt so hollow. It was like her entire life just passed by in an empty blur and suddenly, boom! She was dead. Somehow, she knew that an Avatar should have fulfilled long happy lives and great destinies but she felt that her fifty years on Earth was incomplete.

"When you entered Hogwarts, that's when everything went downhill for you," Aang said gently.

"What?!" She exclaimed. No! It can't be! That's impossible! Dumbledore would never – No! Hogwarts was the best time of my life! It just can't be!

She was panicking now. A million thoughts were running through her head and her emotions were all over the place. She was so confused, angry, frustrated, perplexed, bothered, and many other overwhelming emotions. Because of this, she didn't even notice that tears were falling down her face.

The twelve-year-old spirit form of Avatar Aang could only watch with a glint of sadness and pride in his eyes, as he witnessed Avatar Hermione, who was presumed to be the cleverest Avatar amongst all the incarnations, in her first encounter of the Avatar State.

As Hermione Granger's eyes glowed with a bright white light, her long curly hair being blown by strong winds, she was surrounded by a ball of rocks, flames, water, and air. And then, her spirit met with the other incarnations of herself in a metaphysical headspace.

oOOOOo

Hermione Granger gasped as she stood in front of a seemingly unending row of men and women of different races, all of them were wearing clothes from various time periods. All of them had nothing in common except maybe for the welcoming smiles on their faces. Deep inside her heart, she knew these people. She knew each one of them. She was each one of them at various points of her incarnations.

"Hello!" She greeted in a mix of cheerfulness and awkwardness.

"Avatar Hermione," chorused all the incarnations in front of her. She saw a monk, who resembled Aang and she just had to ask, "A – Aang?"

"Ah, yes. It is I, Avatar Aang. This is what I looked like when I passed on… The younger version of me that met you in the in-between, all the Avatars decided that it was best to see me in my youth," the older version of Aang explained.

"What happened to me?"

"This is the Avatar State. It is a defense mechanism designed to empower you with the skills and knowledge of all the past Avatars. The glow is the combination of all your past lives, focusing their energy through your body. You must always remember, young Hermione Granger, that while in the Avatar State, you are at your most powerful. But, more importantly, you are also at your most vulnerable," all the avatars said in a unified voice that sent chills down her spine.

"But – why tell me this now? Aren't I dead?" There was sadness in her voice as the harsh reality of what had happened to her was summarized in that question. Despite all this amazing power, along with the honor of being responsible for keeping the balance of good and evil on Earth, it was too late for her since she had already died. I must be the lamest Avatar in the history of all Avatars, she thought bitterly.

"Your life was manipulated with deceit and lies. Your life was not your own. The spirit of Raava within you was constrained. You, Hermione Granger, deserve a second chance," this was said in a strong chorus once more.

"But – but that's impossible!" She exclaimed.

"Close your eyes. Clear your mind. Open your heart. Let us show you just how special Hermione Granger could truly be," with that determined promise, all incarnations of the Avatar Spirit shared their memories to their most recent and most oppressed version, Hermione Jean Granger…

oOOOOo

Harry Potter apparated to the Forest of Dean, just like always ever since his best friend, Hermione Granger–Weasley, had mysteriously died in her office at the ministry three weeks ago. Ever since he learned of her death, it was like there was a dagger plunged through his heart. He did not understand why, but it just seemed like the world was now a much darker and colder place ever since Hermione's untimely passing.

His wife, Ginny, obviously noticed how affected he was ever since the news of Hermione's death spread throughout Britain. During her burial, all the Potter and Weasley clan, along with the many people and magical creatures who loved the fallen Minister, mourned Hermione's death. What angered him though was the fact that Ron, Hermione's husband, hardly seemed to care that his wife had died. Since Ron was being his usual irresponsible self, he was the one who arranged all the details of Hermione's resting place. He decided on the Forest of Dean because it was a special place where Hermione's muggle and magical heritage merged. It was there where she spent precious time with her parents as a little girl when she had no clue that magic existed. More importantly, it was there that she struggled with him to fight against the darkness. He could see no other location that would have been her perfect place of eternal rest.

As he read the engraved words on the tombstone, he wiped his tears away.

Hermione Jean Granger–Weasley

September 19, 1979 – October 31, 2029

Wife. Mother. Minister. Friend.

Brightest Witch of the Age

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Using his fingers to trace the Latin phrase on her tombstone, he sighed sadly. Through adversity to the stars, it perfectly encompassed Hermione's short life indeed. Hermione lived a life that was filled with adversity and trials but she overcame all of them. She was underestimated as a muggleborn but she proved all the bigots wrong. Hermione Granger died with the legacy of being the most beloved Minister in Magical Britain. She had conquered all her trials and reached for the stars. It was truly an honor to have met her, someone who was larger than life.

Thinking about his precious memories of Hermione, he remembered with bitterness in his heart, the time when he first learned the devastating news of her death.

Hermione's death was the saddest day of his life. It was a fact that he was certain of despite not understanding why.

As he carefully placed the Christmas Roses he purchased from a muggle flower shop just a few blocks away from the Leaky Cauldron, he squatted in front of Hermione's tombstone with tears in his eyes.

The memory of Hermione's death remained so vivid that by simply closing his eyes, he could still see her cold and lifeless body sitting behind the desk of the British Minister for Magic…

oOOOOo

Harry Potter was busy talking to Susan Finch-Fletchley, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Draco Malfoy, one of the senior members of the Wizengamot. They were discussing the various angles about the burgeoning trouble up north. It seemed that there were signs of looming darkness in the British Wizarding Community once again.

They had no leads yet but there had been sightings of dark magic supposedly practiced by a coven that had been performing sacrificial rituals all over the British Isles. Not only that, the goblins had informed them about the mysterious kidnappings of members of their nation with only the ears being sent back to Gringotts. Chief Ragnok, the leader of the Goblin Nation, had already issued a warning that should the ministry show a lack of effort in solving this problem, then they would be forced to break the peace treaty between the Goblin Nation and the Ministry. After that, the goblins would unleash bloodlust all over Magical Britain. Not only that, whatever gold stored in Gringotts owned by wizards, would be confiscated by the goblin bankers.

Suddenly, a duck Patronus hovered above them, breaking their focus on the meeting.

"Madam Finch-Fletchley, Minister Hermione is presumed to be dead in her office. Send forth the aurors. Now!" The frantic voice of whom he could faintly recognize as belonging to Coleen Creevey, Hermione's very efficient secretary, reverberated all around the DMLE Head's Private Office.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed in despair. He did not even bother to wait for the orders of his immediate superior, Susan. He ran as fast as he possibly could to the Office of the Minister for Magic with a lot of things running through his head. He was panicking, angry, devastated, and some other myriad of horrible feelings that he could not begin to describe.

Despite all the thoughts running through his head, he made one solemn promise. If this was an assassination of his best friend, he would do whatever was necessary to make them pay. No one hurt Hermione Granger without facing the wrath of Harry Potter. Even if it was the last thing he would ever do in his life, he would avenge her death. It was the very least he could do for the one person who had stuck by him in all the ordeals he had faced in his youth.

His friendship with Hermione may no longer be as close as it once was, something that he sorely missed as the years went by, but she would always be one of the most important people in his life. So, he would get to the bottom of this!

There was a crowd gathered in front of Hermione's office and he didn't even bother to be polite as he shoved them aside. He needed to get to her. He must make sure if the news of her death was indeed true.

Upon entering her office, Harry saw that Hermione was surrounded by a trio of healers with their wands going round and round in circles as they murmured diagnostic spells all over her. Pushing one away, he knelt on the carpeted floor of the minister's office.

Hermione was sitting there. Her face was plonked on the thick pile of auror reports he drafted three days ago. She looked so cold and pale. She was lifeless. Her hair that seemed to radiate with her magic now just looked so dull.

It was true. Hermione Granger was indeed dead!

"Hermione! Please! Wake up!" He screamed in anguish and the healers gave him a forlorn look.

"I am sorry, Mr. Potter. We have to take Minister Granger–Weasley to St. Mungo's so we can prepare her body for burial," one of the healers comfortingly squeezed his shoulder.

"Did – did something – or someone – kill her – wha – what happened?" He stammered in between pained sobs. He did not know why but it seemed like his heart was being ripped right out of his chest. He remembered feeling like this when Sirius passed through the Veil of Death during his fifth year at Hogwarts. This cold empty feeling also reminded him of his utter desperation and lack of will to fight when Hermione got hit with that dark spell from that bastard Dolohov. This time, however, there was no Neville to tell him that Hermione still had a pulse.

This time around she was truly gone. His best friend was dead.

And the cold bitter truth, he could not do anything about it.

"Mr. Potter, we do not wish to break patient confidentiality but the Minister had been diagnosed with some obscure illness that was sadly incurable. There was nothing we could do for her, except to try and prolong her life with some potions. The Minister died this afternoon due to the toll of her failing health. I am so sorry for your loss," that was the last statement uttered by the healer but it merely passed through his ears.

It just seemed so impossible that Hermione could die at such a young age.

As he watched Hermione's dead body being carefully levitated into a conjured stretcher, he wiped away angry tears.

No! He did not believe it! There's just something fishy about her untimely death. He would get to the bottom of this!

oOOOOo

"I'm so sorry, Hermione… I – I'm still not able to find a lead on whoever killed you… I refuse to believe that you just died due to natural causes… You lived the healthiest lifestyle amongst all of us… No! There's just – Ahhhh!" His sobs of grief ended in a scream of pain as he felt a sharp object being plunged deep into his back.

Trying to fight back, even if it was a Herculean effort, he turned around to face his attacker. His eyes widened in shock as he saw the familiar chocolate brown eyes that reminded him of his best friend. Rose.

"I knew that you were in love with my mother, Uncle Harry," the way Rose said his name with so much hatred and contempt made him gobsmacked. He was not even able to retaliate to the attack because aside from the pain in his back, he just could not bear to hurt the person who bore so much resemblance to his best friend. Besides, he was still so stunned that Rose, whom he used to babysit when she was just a little girl, could ever do this to him.

"Expelliarmus!" When his phoenix feather wand flew from his back pocket and into his attacker's hand, he sighed in defeat.

"I cannot believe that the stupid Dark Lord Voldemort was unable to kill you many years ago, Uncle Harry… You are weak!" Rose ended her statement with a sinister laugh that reminded him of the deranged Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Wh – Why did – you do this – Ro – Rosie? He struggled to speak since the pain in his back was so intense. He was certain that he would be dying at any moment now. He had been stabbed a few times in his many years as an auror so he was familiar with the pain. But the pain he was in right now, it could only mean that this dagger or whatever was used to stab him, had been laced with poison.

"I need you out of the way so I can begin my plan," Rose said nonchalantly as she tucked his wand beneath her robes.

"Your mum – would be – so – disa – disappointed – in you," he barely managed a broken whisper as his body slowly fell to the ground.

As his eyes started to close, signaling that he was indeed at the brink of death, Rose leaned in to whisper into his ear, "I killed mum, Uncle Harry."

That haunting sentence was the last thing Harry Potter ever heard as he succumbed to the afterlife with his dead body laid beside his best friend's tombstone.

oOOOOo

Harry Potter opened his eyes ready to strangle Rose for what she did to her very own mother but to his surprise, he was now in some sort of opulent castle. Fuck! I must be dead, he thought angrily as his eyes roamed all over wherever this place was. At least it's not King's Cross all over again, he mused as he slowly stood up from the couch.

There was a rumbling sound that reminded him of thunder and a blinding light that was trying to escape from a large door decorated with gold patterns. He did not understand why, but instead of feeling frightened by the sound and the extremely bright flashes of light, this strange combination made him feel safe and secure.

So, deciding to be a Gryffindor through and through, he walked towards that direction. As he entered the door, he screamed in fright.

A woman who reminded him of Hermione, with the same long curly brown hair, and her petite frame, was levitating inside the room he just entered. What made the sight utterly horrifying was the fact that he was standing in what seemed like an abyss, with hell below him and heaven up above.

Aside from the polar opposites, he was caught standing in, the woman was surrounded by a ball of strong winds that reminded him of a tornado. The ball she was floating right at the heart of it, was surrounded by an outline of hard rocks, scorching flames, and a powerful wave of water with its pressure emitting its own force field of energy.

He was about to leave the room when something or rather, someone tugged on his wrist. He expected something equally scary or at the very least, intimidating, but to his surprise, it was just a hand from a boy. A boy who was dressed as a monk, with his bald head, and the simple style of his clothes. This boy had tattoos in the shape of arrows on his head, and then on his arms and legs. The hand around his wrist, despite the apparent youth in the boy's face, was firm and strong. This boy was someone you should not mess with. Maybe some form of an angel, or a guard to the afterlife, he thought as he eyed the boy from head to toe. And here I thought angels have halos, wings, harps, and white linen robes, he mentally chuckled at his silly musings.

"Harry Potter, isn't it?" The boy gave him a penetrating stare that oddly enough, reminded him of Hermione when she was trying to assess if he was downplaying his hurt or whether he was up to something dangerous.

"Er, yes," he managed to say without his voice cracking.

"Avatar Hermione will be joining us soon. She's just undergoing advanced training. She does have a lot to catch up on. I mean seriously! She was manipulated into forgetting her elemental bending for around four decades," he could hear the exasperation in the boy's tone.

"Er, right… So, you know me… But what should I call you, er, sir?" He said awkwardly. To his annoyance, the boy ended up cradling his stomach as he laughed and laughed like there was no tomorrow. Dead people must either be always happy or always in pain.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just, you and Avatar Hermione had the same sentiments about calling me 'sir'… Goodness! You two are so perfect for each other but you both are too stupid to see it," the boy finally stopped laughing so he managed to say that.

"Well?" He prodded as he crossed his arms. He ignored the comment about him and Hermione being perfect for each other.

"Tough crowd you Brits are," the boy huffed before smiling at him once again. "Hi, my name is Aang. I'm an Avatar, just like Hermione. You could think of me as one of her incarnations," the boy held out a hand for him to shake. He gladly accepted the outstretched hand since the boy seemed harmless and was obviously very friendly. Besides, something about the boy reminded him of his best friend.

"So, what's an Avatar?" He asked as he towered in front of the boy. He wanted to be polite so he crouched down a little just so they could see eye-to-eye. The boy noticed what he was doing and only shrugged at his poor attempt to lessen their height difference. With a mischievous glint in his dark brown eyes, the boy performed a series of flexing movements with his legs, hands, and torso that reminded him of Karate or some other martial art, and then, rocks started growing from somewhere and it formed into a chair and a low table. When Aang pointed to one of the conjured rock chairs, he sat on the one at the right with his jaw still hanging. He had never seen wandless magic performed to such perfection. And, elemental magic at that!

I should watch my back and not underestimate this kid. Look at what happened with Rose and me, he mused as he waited for Aang to speak again.

"You don't like long explanations, do you?" Aang broke the silence as he took the other chair.

"That's right," he nodded.

"Okay… so Hermione over there, the girl you were supposed to marry, by the way, is the current incarnation of the Avatar. Now before you get all huffy in denial, shut up. Let me speak… Good! Okay, so the Avatar is a guardian of sorts. The bridge to the mortal and the spirit world. Only he or she can master all four elements… And before you get worried about her, Hermione is fine. She's just in the Avatar State, her most powerful and most vulnerable form. Any questions?"

"Er – no," he muttered. I think it's best if I just ask Hermione for the details later.

"Good! Now we'll just wait a few minutes and Avatar Hermione should be ready to join us."

Harry tried his best to not shift in his seat as Aang looked at him like he was assessing his worth or something along those lines. It made him feel uneasy but he was determined to see this through. Besides, this boy was still a semblance of his best friend, no matter how bizarre a concept reincarnation was.

"So… you just died, right?" Aang broke the silence.

"Yeah, I guess so… Got stabbed in the back, literally and figuratively," he said with bitterness and anger.

"That sucks, eh? Truth be told though; I was expecting you here much later… So much for being the Master of Death," Aang teased and he frowned at that.

"Hey!"

"What? Just saying," Aang shrugged.

"It's not like being the Master of Death means anything," he defended himself. It was one thing to be stabbed by Rosie, a niece he once cared for when she was just a child. And then there's this boy, adding more salt to a fresh wound, not to mention his bruised ego at getting beaten by a petite young lady.

"Well, did you even try to explore what it means? To be the Master of Death?" Aang challenged.

"How could I bloody do that? I haven't even seen the resurrection stone and the Elder Wand for more than thirty years," he reined in his temper but Aang was testing his patience. It reminded him of Hermione when she was pushing his buttons just so he could let his thoughts and emotions out when he needed to release them.

"Merlin! You are so – argh! It's like talking to a version of Hermione in the shape of a cheeky annoying boy!" He crossed his arms in exasperation and Aang laughed.

"I can't believe Avatar Hermione did not advise you to look for the other Hallows," Aang chuckled.

"Well, I don't need them. That level of power is dangerous," he huffed.

"Sure, sure…" This was said placatingly as if he was a little boy in the middle of a temper tantrum.

"I'll have you know that Hermione and I defeated – "

"The manipulations you both had to suffer, especially on Avatar Hermione's bending is just so tragic," Aang muttered to himself.

Before he could say anything else, he heard a feminine voice that he thought he would never get to hear again, "Harry? What are you doing here?" He turned to the beautiful sound and indeed, Hermione was there... standing just a few feet away from him.

"Hermione? You're here!" He hurriedly got out of his seat and ran towards her. Since the last memory he had of Hermione was her cold lifeless body sitting behind her desk, he wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace.

"I missed you so, Hermione," he whispered in earnest. He felt Hermione stiffen for a bit before she relaxed into his embrace. He felt Hermione tap his back in reassurance and he felt at peace. He felt warm, content, and at ease. Hugging Hermione always felt like coming home.

When they heard Aang clearing his throat, they reluctantly pulled apart. He could feel his cheeks heating up and he internally smiled upon seeing the same reddish tinge on Hermione.

"So, Avatar Hermione, I reckon your long journey into your inner spirit through the Avatar State answered all of your questions?" Aang grinned at the refreshed and invigorated Hermione.

Now that Harry could get a better look at his best friend, he realized that she seemed so energized and blissful. He could even feel her magic rippling against her skin. He knew that Hermione was a powerful witch in her own right, but seeing her now, he was certain that he could not recall a particular time that her magic was as potent. In fact, after many years of being an auror, he learned how to feel the presence of magical auras. He had come across various sizes of auras before, with Voldemort and Dumbledore being the most powerful, but this right here, this magic surrounding every single part of Hermione's body, it was the purest magical energy that he had ever felt. Hermione's magic felt raw, alive, and light. Her magic felt like a blessing. Something that made you happy as you come across it. He was unsure if he felt that way because he had known her for so long. But one thing was for certain, this Hermione whom he just hugged mere seconds ago, she was the most powerful magical being he had ever met.

"Oh, Aang! It was truly amazing! I can't believe – It is truly an honor. Thank you so much," Hermione closed her left hand in a fist and then she pressed her knuckles and right palm together before respectfully bowing down to Aang.

Harry watched in amazement as Aang returned the gesture. When both of them were standing upright again, they grinned at each other. It was so weird that the way they smiled was very similar.

"Avatar Hermione, I want to see what you got," Aang challenged.

"Bring it!"

"Hmmm… How about the Dancing Dragon?" Aang smirked.

"You're on," Hermione snorted.

"Excuse us for a while, Harry. I just have to show this newbie Avatar over here, how the pros do it," Aang gave him a cheeky wink and Harry nodded dumbly. Hermione and Aang were so alike that they reminded him of the relationship between brother and sister. He now understood what Aang meant about incarnation.

"On three… One… Two… Three…" With Aang's count, both Avatars performed this complex dance of various martial art poses as scorching hot flames blazed around them.

At the end of the fiery dance, Harry almost yelped when Hermione and Aang roared with fire coming out of their mouths as their hands emitted the same hot flame.

When Aang and Hermione finished the Dancing Dragon, ending their display with a respectful bow to each other, he was not sure if he should applaud or find a convenient hiding spot. It was a wonderful display of magic but it was also very intimidating.

"Good job, Avatar Hermione!" Aang congratulated with a big grin.

"That – felt good," Hermione smiled brightly.

"That was hot, literally," Harry remarked absentmindedly and Hermione blushed. Aang only snorted at that.

"Thanks, Harry."

"Great! Let's move along. We don't want that Dark Lady on Earth succeeding in finding a ritual that would release the spirit of Vaatu from his confinement," Aang interrupted their little moment.

"Dark Lady! What do you mean?" Hermione immediately snapped out of the trance she seemed to be trapped in as she looked into Harry's emerald green eyes. Her focus was drawn to the looming threat of a Dark Lady. From the memories and the training she learned during her first exposure to the Avatar State, she now had a deeper understanding of the duties and responsibilities of the Avatar.

"Hermione, I don't know how to say this but – " Harry started to say but when Hermione's frown deepened, he decided to just blurt it out. "It's Rose! Rose is the Dark Lady!"

"Excuse me?!" Hermione was aghast. Harry took one step back since he was afraid that Hermione would attack him. With her newly awakened elemental powers, he didn't want to risk it.

"Hermione… It's Rose. She stabbed me… I was crying by your tombstone, visiting you every night is routine for me, you see… And then, Rose was there one night… Stabbed me in the back. The last thing she said to me, right before I died, was this… 'I killed mum, Uncle Harry.' I am so sorry, Hermione. How I wish I was just making this up, but it's the truth," Harry's voice was beseeching. He needed Hermione to understand that he was telling the truth.

"My – my – Rose – " Hermione stammered in disbelief as her tears started falling. Because of her pain, she ended up squatting on the floor, hugging her knees as she cried her heart out.

Harry wanted to comfort her but Aang grabbed his arm and shook his head to stop him. He sighed. Aang was right. Hermione needed to grieve and to let all the pain out.

Harry could not begin to fathom how much pain Hermione must be feeling right now. It was the most heartbreaking betrayal. Your own flesh and blood, your daughter for crying out loud, to be the same person to plot your demise. To make things worse, Rose killed her mother just so she could continue paving her way towards darkness.

Who would have thought that the Brightest Witch of the Age and the Best Minister for Magic Britain had ever had, would also be the mother of the newest Dark Lady who would rival Voldemort and Grindelwald's cruelty?

Hermione's life was full of contradictions indeed.

Harry gasped when Hermione started glowing all over once again. The four elements started to envelop her in a ball, just like the first time he saw Hermione here in the afterlife. He wanted to touch her but Aang's grip remained firm.

"Let her grieve. This is the in-between. All of us won't get hurt… We are all safe here… Just let her release all the pain," Aang said gently. Tugging on his hand, Aang pulled him back to their rock chairs as they silently watched Avatar Hermione exhausting herself as she cried tears of pain from the knowledge that it was her beloved daughter that killed her. Worst of all, her supposed legacy to the world, was a conspirator of darkness and not of the light. Rose Granger–Weasley was the complete opposite of her mother who had risked her life so many times just to fight for all that's good.

Harry's heart was breaking as he silently cried on his seat while watching Hermione attempt to let loose all the pain. He wanted to do more for her, but he knew he could not. So, he quietly sat there and just shared his best friend's pain as his tears kept on falling and falling…

oOOOOo

When Hermione finally calmed down, and the glow dissipated, she was exhausted but she looked determined. There was a certain hardness in her eyes that told Harry she was ready to talk. Hermione was ready to face the problem head-on. Just like she had always done when faced with adversity.

"Aang?" Hermione turned to the young monk.

"Are you alright, Avatar Hermione?"

"Yes… I – I'm much better now. Thank you," Hermione nodded.

"Do you have any questions? Either of you?" Aang looked at them. Harry shook his head. After watching Hermione cry for what seemed like hours, he couldn't think of anything else. Her sobs of pain reminded him of her screams of torture at Malfoy Manor, but somehow, he knew that she was in much deeper pain right now.

"I only have one, Aang," Hermione said in a cold voice.

"Go ahead, Avatar Hermione."

"Why is my dau – why is that bitch – why did she turn out like that?" Harry could tell that it was so difficult for Hermione to ask this particular question. It was most likely tearing her up inside.

"Rose Granger–Weasley is like Tom Marvolo Riddle, the enemy you all know as Voldemort," Aang said.

"What do you mean?" Harry was confused.

"I see… Rose, like Voldemort, is a product of love potions, isn't she?" Hermione said in a voice that was barely a whisper. Harry gasped at her insinuation. No! It can't be! It's impossible!

"Yes, Avatar Hermione. Your daughter was conceived due to a love potion. That among other manipulations," Aang's voice was grave.

"No…" Harry gasped.

"It's Ron, isn't it? He used a potion on me?" Hermione's voice reminded him of the scared little girl who refused to come out of the cubicle in their first year during that night when the mountain troll was unleashed by Quirrell.

"Yes, that's right."

"Tell me, Aang… What must I do to fix this mistake? I won't let Rose win! As the Avatar, I must do something," Hermione's voice was filled with determination that it sent chills down Harry's spine. He almost pitied Rose – and Ron for that matter – when Hermione got a hold of them.

"You must go back in time, Avatar Hermione… That is the only way."

"I see…"

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I'll go with you… I won't let you do this alone," Harry promised with the same determination Hermione had displayed.

"Now, before you two argue about whether or not you go back in time together, come with me… I will show you a glimpse of what darkness Rose Granger–Weasley is really capable of doing… And then, after that, we make plans. Together, you must change the course of destiny," Aang took hold of each of their hands and dragged them off to another room inside this crazy wormhole that he only named the in-between.

Wherever Aang was taking them, Harry didn't care. He was determined to do whatever was necessary just so he could help Hermione. Hopefully, this time around, he could finally return the favor he owed her. Whether she liked it or not, she needed him to stay by her side as she faced the greatest challenge of her life.

A/N:

Credits

I would like to thank my supportive readers turned betas (Genevieve and Manwe Iluvatarian). Thank you, Genevieve, for being tolerant enough to read the rough drafts and for checking characterization, pacing, and the emotions displayed in each chapter. To Manwe Iluvatarian, thank you for helping me by checking if the merging of the Avatar Universe into the Harry Potter story was done seamlessly.

To StruggleMuggle, you've been my beta-reader for my fic fest entries (one-shots, short stories, and then this one). I can't thank you enough for your support, for pointing out plot holes, spelling and grammar mistakes, and for giving me tips on how to improve my tenses (my main struggle).

To Emmaasher, my final proofreader, thank you so much for accepting my call for help. I truly need one more eye to make sure that there isn't anything else that's missed out, so thank you. It's the first time we've worked together so I'm grateful that you've offered your help with this fest.

To the organizers of Quantum Bang, thank you for the fest. I'm truly sorry for pulling out. If you guys enjoy fix-it fics, then check out the Quantum Bang website.

If you want to see the artworks for each chapter, please read God Save The Children on my A03 site.

So... What do you think? Is my supposed QB entry worth the wait?