Hermione should have supposed that as the best friend of Harry Potter, her life could hardly be considered normal. No, she'd faced down trolls, basilisks, insane teachers, and homicidal maniacs that fancied themselves Lords. I'm not sure why I ever thought it would be different. The Battle of Hogwarts ended a month ago. The never ending stream of funerals seemed to be endless. What was left of the Order was rounding up the last of the Death Eaters. Trouble is, the Death Eaters; they had absolutely nothing left to lose, nobody left to bind them together. That was how Hermione found herself, in many ways where all the madness started. She found herself in the Department of Mysteries chasing down Bellatrix, The Carrow Twins, Dolohov, and Malfoy Senior. It was how she found herself in the very same room where Bellatrix killed Sirius just a few short years before. With Voldemort gone, after the defeat at the Battle of Hogwarts the Death Eaters tried viciously to regain the lost control of the Ministry. I looked around at the destroyed and grimy room, blood and sweat dripping down my face from a stray curse. As I looked around the earily silent room. So quiet, the silence seemed deafening. Neville was dead, Luna lay broken in a unnatural heap, Harry, he took a cutting course to the abdomen. And her Ron, the man she always tried to deny her true feelings for, the irritating, ridiculous, and frustrating man she loved from the first time she tried to impress him with her proper pronounciation of Wingardium Leviosa in first year was stabbed by Bellatrix's cursed blade. The same one that Bellatrix used to carve mudblood into my arm not one month ago. I looked on in disbelief, that when Bellatrix apparted in front of me baring her teeth in a predatory snarl and shoved; I felt so emotionless, I couldn't even bring myself to care that I was being shoved back first through the Veil of Death. I welcomed it even, my parents were in Austrialia; their memories were not restorable, all my friends were dead, the man I had hoped to someday marry was gone, I had nothing to live for anymore. Anything that may have kept me fighting had ceased to exist. One final thought entered my mind before my world went dark was "at least I'll be seeing them all soon."
When I came to, I was laying in a undignified heap at the base of a tree. The most unusual tree id ever seen. It was expansive and obviously ancient, with red leaves. The air around the tree almost hummed with power, electrifying the magic in my blood. I blinked wearily as the air around me seemed to charge my magic. I felt a buzz course through my body like I had chugged a double Expresso, like a child who had consumed too much sugar. What a curious feeling, I thought to myself. I realized as I stood, I appeared to be wearing some sort of a old fashioned dress, it was white and pale blue, with a beautiful white fox trimmed fur cloak. As I shook the snow off of my body, and took in my surroundings I heard shuffling as figures appeared from within the wood.
The men that appeared were dressed peculiarly in armor and breeks that seemed more in place at a Renesance Festival than 20th century England. Who are you, one of the men demanded. With his hand on his hilt, how did you come to be in Winterfell. Hermione replied uncertaintly, Winterfell? Am I not in England anymore? Where am I? How in Merlin's Beard did I get here? The man who seemed to be in charge, stepped forward from his companions. I am Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, who pray tell are you? Hermione, my name is Hermione Hermione Granger. Hermione huh? Lord Stark replied. Curious, you claim the surname Granger, which I've never heard in Westeros, but you look like a Talgarian. Hermione frowned, I don't know what you mean sir, how do I look? Lord Stark pointed at the lake so she could see her reflection. Hermione gasped. Staring back at her she saw a woman with pale silvery blonde hair, soft beautiful curls reaching her waist, ivory skin so translucent it appeared to glow, and violet eyes with specs of saphire, framed with thick dark lashes, high archristoc cheakbones, and pouty full lips. Taking all this in, me (Hermione Granger) for the first time in my life promptly let out a very girlish (much to my embarrassment) shriek reminisant of something Lavender Brown, or Parvati Patil or one of the equally silly, helpless, and shallow girls of Gryffindor would do, and promptly passed out.
When I came to (for the second time of the day) I felt nothing but confusion, where was she, where we're her friends, what happened? When all the memories of her friends death at the hands of the last remaining death eaters and their ultimate failure as Bellatrix pushed her through the Veil, Hermione remembered she was all alone, Merlin knows where, looking like some platinum haired Malfoy wannabe. Greatttttttt. Looking around, she observed was in a plain but comfortable room, on a simple looking bed. She walked hurriedly to the window, looking outside she saw it was winter, "wasn't it just summer yesterday?" I thought to myself? Where am I?? Hermione leaned closer, practically hanging over the edge of the rough stone windowsill, hands gripping the edge so tightly her knuckles appeared bone white on her already ivory skin. Staring incrediously at people she saw moving around the courtyard, seeing people pushing carts, and their strange old fashioned homespun garb, she whispered to herself, when am I???