So rattled were her nerves that Hermione spun around to point her wand in her son's direction. Oliver stood in the doorway dressed in his pajamas holding his own wand in his hand. Her heart clenched at the sight. He was just a child! What sort of spells could he hope to use against an enemy that meant them harm? He should never be in a position where he had to even worry about trying to protect his mother or himself. She hated the world. Every fucking bit of it. Was this why she fought in a war and then spent the past twenty years supporting the regime that was built from the ashes? Children should never have to fight.