Author's Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this story. It is written solely for entertainment purposes and I make no profit from it.

Prologue

Most days were identical. She remained in the same position on the soft cot, staring up at the picture hung upon the ceiling. It was a snapshot from her second year, featuring a wild-haired, buck-toothed girl gesticulating wildly towards the camera in between viciously hugging the two very different boys who flanked her. Occasionally the figures disappeared from the picture, sometimes singly, others in groups. When that happened, she showed no dismay. She simply turned her head to the right.

The enchanted window which filled the eastern wall of the private room offered an ever-changing view of the grounds at Hogwarts, though it most often represented the view from the girls' dorm in Gryffindor Tower. It had been a gift to her from Albus Dumbledore, intended to, in his words, "Remind you of those who anxiously await your return home." Occasionally she would see smoke curling from the chimney of Hagrid's hut, or tiny figures zooming around the distant Quidditch pitch. She would stare intently at the painting until her eyes lost their focus, and then her head would return to its former position, staring up at the newly re-occupied photos.

For the majority of the day, she was not alone in the room. The Healers made their rounds diligently, and there were always visitors stopping by to see her. The boys from the photograph made frequent appearances. Time had changed them somewhat. The dark-haired boy still had the odd scar on his forehead, but the joyful face that stared out at her from the photograph was always solemn as it hovered over her bed. Dark eyebrows knit together with worry as a calloused hand reached out, lifting her limp hand from the coverlet and clutching it. The redhead, on the other hand, always made a half-hearted attempt to engage her in conversation, always offering a faltering shadow of the lopsided grin that beamed out at her from the photograph.

On a day the same as any other, the pair entered her room whispering in reverent undertones. They immediately made a beeline for the bedside, with the slender dark-haired boy assuming his normal position at her left side, her hand clasped tightly in his, while the redhead's pained smile appeared. He wasted no time, but immediately dropped to his knees at her other side, blocking out her view of the window as he threw his arms out in excitement.

"So, 'Mione, you should've seen Harry in last week's match against Puddlemere! Caught the Snitch in under a minute, he did! They didn't even get their hands on the bloody quaffle, it was with that fast! The crowd went positively mental – can you imagine shelling out the Galleons to see the Chudley Cannons take on Puddlemere United and have it be over with so fast? They were lucky they didn't have a riot on their hands!"

The boy on her left sighed quietly and lifted his free hand, cutting off his friend's speech.

"She's not there, Ron."

With that, the redhead's smile faded abruptly, and his head dropped. His shoulders hunched as he rested his hands quietly on the side of her bed, gazing up at her with the wide, innocent eyes that she knew from the photograph. "I dunno, Harry. She could be in there..."

Another forlorn sigh came from her left. "Even Dumbledore doesn't know anymore."

But I am here, a small voice in her head insisted. I can hear you all just perfectly.

This was new. This was unfamiliar. She had never before felt the urge to try to speak to the visitors, or to acknowledge them...only to lie in peace with her pictures. Her eyes blinked twice in rapid succession, and her right hand twitched against the coverlet.

Both faces suddenly zoomed into her field of vision as the boys stumbled to their feet, leaning forward to stare down at her face intently.

Ron swallowed hard, darting an uncertain glance over at his friend. "Did you see that, Harry? Don't reckon I've ever seen her move that much..."

Harry...yes! I know Harry! And Ron, from the picture!

A new sound reached her ears, a muted groan, as a sharp pain pierced her temples. White dots speared through her vision, blurring out the figures above her head. In the distance she heard faint sounds of scrambling, and a cracking, high-pitched voice that reminded her vaguely of the redhead..."Get a bloody healer in here! And someone get an owl off to Hogwarts!"

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"Just a few more steps, Miss Granger...that's right...now, if you'll be so kind as to sit down..."

A wizened hand carefully disengaged her own frail fingers from the crook of an elaborately-clad arm. Albus Dumbledore kept his eyes fixed upon his charge, keeping his light grip upon her until she was firmly settled into the overstuffed armchair across from his desk. With a gentle smile, he released her hand, which drifted down listlessly to fall against her lap with a muted thump. She watched out of the corner of his eye as he threaded his way through numerous endtables and pedestals, making his way around his massive desk before settling into his own cushioned chair. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers. Blue eyes glistened thoughtfully over the rims of half-moon glasses as he studied the quiet young woman sitting before him.

"Miss Granger," he began gently, his voice laced with concern, "Do you remember who I am, and where you are?"

Her head lifted slightly, and he was given a dead-on look into her deep brown eyes. They were glazed over and lifeless, but he stared at her in determination. "Miss Granger?"

Yes...that is who I am. I'm Hermione Jane Granger, and this is Professor Dumbledore's office...and that is Fawkes, over there...

In a jerky motion, her upper body swerved to the right so she could stare at the scarlet phoenix preening itself upon a golden perch. The magnificent bird paused in its grooming and lifted its head, cocking it to the side with an inquisitive chirrup.

Dumbledore watched her motions carefully, making no move to interrupt her or carry his questioning any further. As he looked on, Hermione reached upward with her left hand and tugged absently upon a thick brown curl. His heart almost broke upon the spot as he recognized the gesture she often used as a student while reflecting upon a particularly difficult assignment. Her thin lips pursed for a moment, then parted, and a soft, scratchy whisper emerged from her.

"Home?"

Tears trickled out from Dumbledore's eyes, though this time his heart exploded with joy at the first word anyone had heard from the girl in close to a year. She turned back towards him, her eyes full of confusion, her own lower lip trembling in surprise at her revelation. He smiled at her fondly, nodding his head in confirmation.

"Yes, sweet child. You are home now."