Authors Note: This is going to be a miniseries, or rather a long miniseries, which will consist of 8 or 9 chapters. It's a requested series by, SuperSentai199. Hope you all enjoy!
Chapter One: The Transfer
Hermine huffed, taking a seat in the comfy office chair in her living quarters, the events of September second dancing through her head as if it had happened yesterday. Splinching, a horrible effect of doing apparition magic wrong, seemed to plague her once lover on a consistent basis. Aside from sending him back to the recently rebuild Hogwarts School of Magic, there had to be a better way of limiting his chances of losing some form of him. She could count how many times he'd loss a body part, piece of hair, or an article of clothing using two hands, and she wanted to prevent it from happening again.
Her fingers thrummed along the top of her oak desk, a symptom of her thoughts, as she replayed the image of a gaping hole in Ron's upper arm. His screams, the blood oozing from him, and how she fearlessly applied Dittany to the wound. Despite her appearance, she was by no means fearless, she was terrified of what happened and frantic about how to fix it. Then there was the time he'd lost finger nails, though that wasn't as disturbing as the previous. If she couldn't improve the chances of him performing it correctly, she'd have to make another way of transporting to places in an instant. Why not? She after all was the smartest in the school, not to mention she was the only seventh year to graduate after the attack on Hogwarts. If anyone could do it, it was her. For now, she'd rest, then tomorrow she'd start her research.
The smell of old book danced through the air, as she strolled through the stacks in the Hogwarts library. Her eyes dancing over the spines of books, searching for anything pertaining to transportation magic. Other wizards must have tried making another type, meaning their had to be notes or something, this way she didn't waste time doing the same as others and failing. Hermione sighed, content with the silent world around her, this quickly became her home during her first year in Hogwarts. She was used to being along, since her father worked very hard to support her. He'd taken quite a hit when her mother died. On a day where a family is blessed, the day he'd been gifted a daughter, was also the day his wife had passed. Birth being too much for her body.
"Good morning," One of the librarians hummed, smiling brightly. "Let me know if there's anything you need."
Hermione nodded, a faint smile touching her own lips, as she pushed herself past the elderly woman. She soon found the isle with books based on magical discovery and transportation. Th History of Teleportation, and, Ancient Magic, seemed like the two best options. Maybe combining both modern and ancient magic, would be a good way. After all, magic was once circles, chalk, and candles what could possibly be harmful with that? As usual, both were the thickest books in the rows. The thick leathered books weighing her down, as she rounded the stacks again.
She breathed a deep sigh, putting the books down onto the side table, next to a window overlooking the forested lake. It was her normal spot, almost no one could find her, being in a long-forgotten portion of the library, only a small end table and dusty chair. The pale pink sweater she wore, shifted, as she curled into the chair, knees resting against one armrest and her back on the other. Hermione, smiled for the first time in months, as she pulled the heavy book into her pedestal lap. Without a doubt her first option is to find a way to improve chances of avoiding Splinching, and that was her goal at the moment.
Hermione's fingers drifted across the page, as she took in the information, her mouth partially a gap as if mouthing the words on the page. The words came out in swarms, different theories as to how to fix Splinching, different pages contradicting each other, so many different opinions. It was frustrating, so many things to try, with so little time. Ron was bound to try using apparition again, with the buildings of a war in the magical community. Her cool fingers flew into her hair, squeezing the tresses unfortunate enough to remain between the digits, as she took in deep calming breaths.
Another panic attack, she thought once the thin fog cleared. These attacks were symptoms of a greater illness, one she'd developed from her father. Years of watching him panic through her life about this and that, had taught her to respond to loss in such a way. Once she stopped shaking, Hermione took a moment to write a list of theories on how to fix Splinching. Instead of holding both the ancient magic book and the parchment, she neatly placed it into the older pages and marched home.
Splinching was random, that's what made it so dangerous. How does one protect themselves when there's no knowing which body part will go missing? Armed with that knowledge, Hermione crossed off at leas three of the ten theories on her list. There was something nonsensically about Splinching though, there was no rhyme nor reason to whom and how it affects a person. Many people messed up while attempting to asperate but why does it only attack a select few? Is it that they don't have all three of the D's to aspirate properly? Do they butcher it in the same way? She hummed, pulling her wand from on top of her desk. The best way to answer a question is to try it out.
Destination, she closed her eyes thinking about the lake in the distance, calming her nerves about what she was about to do. She was Determined to get there, though it danced with uncertainty, which would be the last D. Deliberation. She felt her body whip forward, the feeling of leaving her stomach behind greatly palpable through her travels. This wasn't different from other time, after all your body flattened by presser wasn't in the shape nor same form as when you started. With an audible pop, she'd arrived at her destination, with everting she'd left with. She cursed loudly, before trying again.
Weeks passed, and she'd tried everything she could think of to prove her theory. Not once did she feel the burning sensation of having a piece of her torn away. Which in both the Scientific and Magic world meant her theory was wrong. This fact, along with the knowledge that Ron had again Apparated with little luck again, frustrated her to no end. It was the frustration that lead her to study more on ancient magic. Circle magic to be specific seemed like it would work out the best for her goals. After all, what damage would really happen by drawing circles and a few runes? There was no difficulty, all one needed was a circle, destination, and poof. Or at least that's how the history book made it sound.
It would take some memorization, after all, who could remember off the back the thirty something designs, but others would be joyous for a safer way of transporting. Right? She needed a few things before she'd start working on combining the fluidity of apparitting and circles. As if to be facetious, Hermione apparated to the nearest magic shop for the chalk, white gloves, and a few calming candles. If all worked, she thought maybe she could sew the circles onto the gloves, as a quicker way of transportation.
"Good morning," the witch behind the counter hummed, eyeing Hermione's disheveled appearance.
Hermione hummed nervously, seeing her reflection in one of the many, many mirrors lying around. It'd been a few days since she'd taken care of herself, opting to crack this mystery rather than meddle with her form. After all, in all that time, who had she seen? Harry two or three times, to which she grouchily kicked him out of her place at his concern, and Ron whom reached the same fate. They didn't understand yet why she recluse herself away, but they would, once she managed to figure things out. Her dark tendrils stuck out awkwardly from the bun on her head, creating an Albert Einstein affect. Dust, marker, and touches of some unknown particle smudged across her fingers and the bridge of her nose.
"Ohm…. Morning." She responded, after a long moment. "I…uh… these items."
She passed the paper across the desk, sloppy chicken scratch very apparent on the aged parchment. The clerk smiled nervously, before pulling the message very close to her face. Many of the letters blurred together, in a scribbly fashion, but the blonde woman managed to stumble through what Hermione needed. Two pairs of white gloves, six white orchid scented candles, and a box of regular chalk. The clerk chuckled, handing over the items.
"That'll be Nineteen Knuts."
"Thank you," Hermione sighed, tossing the bronze coins over, before apparitting away.
Being out in the public again gave Hermione a longing to be clean again. It had been almost embarrassing to have everyone's eyes on her messy appearance, judgment very clear in their many orbs. Maybe Harry and Ron had been right about one thing, she needed to take care of herself, lest she be unable to do her job accurately. With the threads of exhaustion touching her, Hermione dropped her bag onto the dusty dining room table, before dragging herself to the bathroom. A nice hot shower and some fresh clothes will do her a world of wonders.
Hermione moaned feeling the heated spray across her, a series of goosebumps and shivers danced across the pale dermis. The water rolled down the drain, with the slightest grey tint to it, as she soaked her now loose curly hair. After a few minutes she washed the rose scented suds from her body and honey scented condition from her hair, before turning the water off. For the first time in a long time, Hermione felt fully awake, almost human again. Her fingers thoughtlessly slide her torn jeans, and loose brown button-down shirt -which she tucked into her pants. Considering she was going to be out in the public again, it would be wise to put shoes on.
"Ok, back to work." She hummed, slipping sock covered feet into her brown boots.
She breathed contently, looking at the drawing of a generic circle, before grabbing a stick of chalk and her wand. Back in ancient times there were no wands, witches and wizards only relying on circles, herbs, and potions to get things done. So, to some extent there was no telling what would happen by combining the two. For now, she tucked the wooden object into her back pocket, and continued to copy the intricate design. Two large circles placed rather closely, had the runes between, then two triangles with flame like extinctions went through the two circles.
Before transporting, she took another look at the book, to go over the directions again. It is believed, that one who wishes to transport would simply think clearly on the destination, and when ready utter the word Translationem. Simple enough. Wanting to be close enough to apparated back, Hermione chose to appear down the road. She knew it well enough, that if there was a need to recall the images, she could do so with certainty. Taking in another breath, she stepped into the center of the circle, facing where she thought the opening of the alley would be.
"Translationem," she purred.
A blinding light erupted from underneath her, forcing the brunette to close her eyes tightly. Unlike apparition, there was no cure popping noise dancing in the background when she arrived at her destination. No, instead the light created a deafening silence, which merely faded away with it's radiance. Sound slowly returned, as she rubbed her eyes excessively, to get rid of the multi-colored circles in her sight. At first the quiet growls were distant, sounding as if they were yards away, but slowly grew louder until they were right outside of…. Hermione's vision slowly came back, first black and white shapes, before slowly everything adopted its true shape and color.
There was, by no means, any way she was in the alleyway near her home, but she had no idea where she was. She was in a building, that much was for sure. One of education, based from the tossed over desks and chairs. Hermione had been somewhere resembling here, a muggle school, but not one like this. Before Hogwarts, where nothing of consequence was learned. Evidence of a fight, one instigating the panicked escape that was left behind. Bloody hand prints, smudged from falling danced along the walls and floors told her many others hadn't survived. A terrifying scene indeed, but there was much she didn't know.
Her eyes danced around the school maps hanging half torn on the walls. Japan. She was in Japan. Hermione shook her head, there was no way she managed to transport all the way to Japan, when she merely meant to go thirty yards. Maybe she should have done more studying on Circle Magic, before experimenting on it. All wizards knew it unwise to apparat long distances, and no matter how many times she did so, she'd need to cross an ocean. Now this, this was a predicament that she hadn't anticipated. Hermione's fingers thrummed against the small bookshelf, as she contemplated her next move.
Panicked thumps against the door screamed for her attention, drawing her line of sight away from the maps. Though the blood in the room has been oxidized, and starting to flake, it sounded as if the struggle is still happening. The question she now had to ask herself, will she open the door to whomever stood behind. Hermione sighed, pulling her hair back, making sure it didn't encumber her vision, as she slowly opened the entry to the world. Everything happened so fast, four bodies slammed against the door pushing the young wizardess to the ground.
She gasped for breath, as she took in the presence of those whom now were with her. Two men and one woman, but the most drawing feature of those shambling to her, was their bloody clothes. Gashes plagued their skin, many looking as if teeth burrowed bellow the flesh before taking a chunk away. They were people, or rather they were once people. Hermione had no doubt that they were the people once who were once in this room, their uniforms helping to draw that conclusion.
"Re-PEL-oh populus." Hermione hummed, waving her wand.
Nothing, nothing happened. There was no light, no fizz, nor any signs of a spell gone wrong, just her sitting on the ground with a wand. The people continued forward, shambling rather quickly towards her, drool dripping down their gaping mouths. With fingers splayed out, Hermione kicked onto her feet, making sure not to turn her back on her attackers. Before anything else could be done, the sound of an explosion reverberated the walls, forcing the wizardess to cover her ears. Blood and chunks of the being's skull splattered against the Hermione and the surrounding surfaces, while drawing the attention the beings back to the doors.
"I'd get out of here, if I were you." The woman hummed, shifting the barrel of her gun to the closest being.
Hermione didn't need to be told twice, taking her wand and placing it in her back pocket, before bolting for the door. The tall woman -whom saved Hermione- stayed behind. Two more shots cascaded through the building, stopping her in the midst of the halls. Sounds of moans dancing throughout the entirety of the building, blood staining the dingy looking halls.
"How have you survived this long?" Hermione's savior hummed, packing change into a bag, her shoulder resting against the doors.
"What?"
"You just threw open the door, and let them." The woman chuckled, pushing from the door. "You're either stupid or want to die."
"Neither, I wasn't expecting them to try and eat my face." "Hence my question…" her eyes danced along Hermione's body. "Do you even know how to fight?"
"Yes." What Hermione wasn't expecting, was the punch to the face, in the middle of her answers. Stinging radiated from her nose and lips, tears rolling down her cheeks, as she fell to the ground holding her face. Whomever this woman was, hit like a freight train.
"What the F-… what was that for!" Hermione shouted, wiping the blood from her nose.
"Don't lie to me, if you can't fight, just say." Her companion sighed."My name is Alice…. And you are."
"Hermione Granger."
"Your arrival here is… clumsy, but I'll train you to fight." Alice sighed, re-loading her weapons. "Let's go to my place, being around her at night would be a bad idea."
They walked in silence, through the massacred city. Bodies strewn through the streets, blood everywhere, and then there were the zombie like beings. Hermione's heart sank, the Wizarding Worlds war must have leaked out into the Muggle World, but why hadn't she heard about how bad it got? Had she truly been so enthralled by her studies, to not heard of this?
"Where are you from?" Alice hummed, tossing another piece of wooden furniture in the fire.
"England, you?"
"I'm from all over, right now I'm here to end this war." There were so many questions, but not enough ways to calmly ask. Alice eyed the young adult with her. How had she survived this for so long? "Get some sleep Hermione, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow."
Harsh breathing echoed through the halls of the abandoned school, sweat pouring down the side of Hermione's face. Three months had passed since she'd met Alice, since they'd developed a strong bond. One strangely similar to a mother-daughter, something the wizardess wasn't very used to. Alice, lunged forward, gripping tightly onto Hermione's long curls -drawing her forward- before putting the barrel of the shot gun in the teens face.
"I still think you should cut your hair." Alice hummed, dropping both the barrel and hair. "Or at least pull it back, that'll make it harder to grip."
"Will do," Hermione hummed, tying her hair into a tight ballerina bun. "I know I've asked this before, but why are we attacking Umbrella's Headquarters?"
"We're attacking, you're going to wait here patiently." She grunted, not so subtly ignoring the question.
"Wh-I'm getting better at fighting, and shooting!" Hermione half shouted, following the older woman. "You said I'm progressing quickly, if I might add."
"Yes, but Umbrella personnel have been fighting for years, you've only been doing so for what…three months?" Alice stated, packing her weapons.
"I can snipe." Hermione shot back, glancing to the other Alice walking around.
It took the better part of the month getting used to the clone, understanding that this was how the world here worked. Both Alice's tried explaining the who, what, where, why, and how's to the girl, but only one message rang loudest. Wesker must die -whomever that was. Exhaustion tugged at Hermione's nerves, she couldn't just watch as the Alice's went on a suicide mission. She's seen maps, upon maps, of the Tokyo Headquarters, and there was no way those three would survive, but having what Hermione felt was the "original" Alice scoping the perimeter did make things better.
"That is true, but not going to happen." Alice hummed, pausing in her movements to look at the younger woman.
Fear shook in those light brown eyes, loss being the one familiar thing in Hermione's life. Alice smiled, hugging her tightly, wanting more than anything to comfort the girl. False promises wouldn't do, being that, there indeed would be a chance of all the clones dying, including herself. The words, everything will be alright wouldn't come out, but the hug said everything.
"You'll be fine, and if things go well, you'll see us back here by sundown."
"That doesn't make me feel any better."
Hermione rolled her eyes, watching as the trio walked away. By no means was she just going to watch, but sneaking up on the three most dangerous women would take tact, a skill she'd quickly learned. Beside the beaten up front door of the building, a medium sized black and silver backpack, was tucked behind a piece of roof which feel down years ago. She'd placed it there two days ago, inside had, a series of guns, ammo, food, water, bandages, and a pair of clean clothes. Alice always said an escape backpack was always needed in this world. With baited breath, Hermione quickly marched through the building, barely pausing to grab the backpack. The three Alice's would-be halfway to the attack points by now, and she has barely left.
"Come on Hermione, you can move faster."
She hummed, trying to keep herself calm, there would be shooting soon and no time for distraction. Shouts and panicked words echoed from the pillar like building, eventually any sound being consumed by the cascading shocks of gun fire. The blitz had begun, and Hermione has yet to find a nesting spot. Despite all her training, she wanted to be near by the airplane, considering the plan was to take down those who would escape. Wesker, she was told, was very good at escaping these types of situations.
The Wizardess nestled on a small platform nearby, somewhere between the Headquarters and where the plane would take off. With the butt of the gun resting in what Alice refuted to the "pocket" of her shoulder, she took in a deep calming breath before officially engaging in the blitz. Hermione pressed her cheek against the stock weld, as she began the process of aligning the rifle. Once everything was set up, she looked at her surroundings. Her eyes worked around what appeared to be a teen girl's bedroom, posters of Japanese boy bands on the walls and light shades of pink all over. A picture on the girl's dresser caught Hermione's attention, what looks like a mother father pairing, with a rather cute girl in gardens, sparked a bit of jealousy. It would have been nice to have a family like that.
Sounds of fighting drew her attention back to the battle grounds. She peaked through the scope, ensuring that the natural point of aim still matched her adjustments. The cross-hairs still pointed to the doors entrance, giving her a good sign. A tall blonde male rushed through the doors, taking but a moment of a pause in his step to shoot back. He fit the description of Wesker, almost to a T, the only difference being his hair wasn't neatly slicked back. Though rushing through a building could ruffle even the best slicked back do. This would be her first time killing someone, or at least, the first time she didn't have anything more than another person's word for it.
"You can do its." She purred, pulling back the firing pin, before aiming just beyond his movements.
There would be at least a three or four second difference, from when she pulled the trigger to impact. On her out breath, her finger pulled the trigger back. The thunderous sound of the rifle going off, resounded between the congregation of skyscrapers. Her instincts screamed to get up and go, but her curiosity kept her where she sat. Just as the bullet would have hit, the man she assumed to be, Wesker leaned back narrowly missing the projectile. His head snapping to her direction. He couldn't know where she was by the sounds, could he? Hermione swallowed hard, before breaking down the rifle, standing up, and bolting to the front of the apartment. First things first, the infected would have heard the shot and would be coming. She still needed to get out of the area, before making her way to her Alice.
Groans and moans echoed down the halls, as she tore up and down the stairs. The ground floor would be packed with zombie like creatures, based from the sounds coming from the stairwells, giving her the only option for escape. Up. Hermione's lungs burned, as the stench of death and rotting building filled her. With muscles screaming, and her hair dancing sporadically behind, Hermione ignored any open doors she passed. Alice would be mortified, watching as her prodigy not taking in her surroundings.
"Shit," Hermione hummed, as her body pulled backwards.
Standing over the dark-haired woman in a terrible twist of fate, was the young teen girl Hermione borrowed the room from. The girl shambled forward, a look of animalistic aggression shading the teens features. Pure adrenaline pulsed through Hermione, as she drew her side arm and pulling the small pistols trigger. Seconds later, the girl fell to her knee's blood now trickling from the hole in her head. The familiar twisting of nausea tugged violently at her stomach, stalling her immediate escape. Bile danced across the bloodied floors, as her body heaved, the idea of being the taker of another life still not something she was used to.
She allowed another moment, before standing back up and rushing to the rooftops, this time taking a moment to be aware of her surroundings. Ten bullets and several minutes later, Hermione burst through the roof top doors. Her hair sprang from the neat up-do she'd put it in that morning, with blood splattered across her face, she truly looked like the warrior Alice trained her to be. First mode of action, Hermione blockaded the doors, making sure that it would hold before rushing to the zipline her companions made.
"Don't look down," She breathed anxious mantra.
Anything she put on the wire would need to hold up to the heat that would build as she slid along. Guns were too important in this world, and anything not made of metal would send her plummeting into the city of the dead. No, instead she used smaller bits of wire to, wrapping it around her writs and around the palm of her hands, before kicking off the roof. The sounds of crashing resounded from behind, calling Hermione to glance back only to see the infected filling the roof tops. She thanked the heavens for getting out just in time, as the wind tore at her clothes and her arms screamed for relief.
Hermione grunted when her feet met the deep grey rooftop of the Umbrella Corporation building, almost giving out to her weight. Sounds of battle danced through the air, almost instantly reminding her of what was going on. Alice mentioned wanting to disable the Umbrella Corp private jet, wanting to destroy any chances of this Wesker fellows escape during the early planning of the assault. The idea seemed doable, at least it did until Hermione was faced with the sleek jet resting on the landing pad.
"You shouldn't be here." Alice's voice echoed quietly, causing a jumpy squeak from the wizardess.
"Uh…yeah… I thought I could help." She murmured sheepishly.
"I can't say I'm shocked," Alice breathed, handing over a hand gun. "Stay by my side, and don't engage Wesker."
If the young woman were to be honest, she'd have told Alice how much she needed her approval. How much she hungered for the affection of a strong woman, one to replace the gap her own mother left, instead she settled for the awe of watching Alice do her job. The roar of the jet starting snapped Hermione out of her daze, both women bolted for the craft before it disappeared into the sky. Alice was the first onto the loading dock, instantly turning to help Hermione on, as the wheels lifted slightly onto the ground.
"Come on, you can make it." Alice breathed, her arms reaching to grasp the wizardess. "Come on just a little more."
Both sighed, feeling their hands entangle before Hermione managed to drag inside the port. Too much exercise left her exhausted, though the sounds of a chuckle over the roar of the jet, launched her senses into overdrive. Hermione groaned, feeling Alice yank her backwards just as the sounds of a shot reverberated in the open space. A high-pitched ringing muffled any words spoken between the two advisories, although, she could tell by the tenseness in Alice's body, Wesker had mentioned Hermione. Wesker smiled, blinking before the two women.