You know what ? I do not own the Potterverse, just twenty books (1-7, Qtta, FB, tales of B, french and english copies...) but I dare toying with it, without intent to make money or even fame out of it. Everything recognizable likely belongs to Ms. Rowling, praised her imagination. You have now reached the end of the disclaimer, and after yet another set of heartfelt thanks to Tumshie for de-frenching this story, I give you...

Chapter 2 - Say it again, Sam.

Oh, Gosh. I hope somebody got the registration of the truck. Those trucks. Or was it one of those Australian trains ?

How shall we put this? Hermione was beyond the weather? Nah. A Helluva Hangover, was closer to the truth. Back from a very bad trip, in her opinion, she was pondering the delicate choice of a) staying strictly immobile in the faint hope the world would copy her and stop spinning or b) daring the likely painfully superhuman effort of moving an eyelid a fraction of an inch in order to build a rough assessment of the outer world.

After a while, she decided to play it safe and restrain her awareness to the haptic feedback on her back, the well-known touch of linens over a mattress. A disturbing fact, since her last conscious location was outside in the garden. Then, the hearing. That was good, since this way she could listen and decode sounds, but unfortunately, the room was silent. Just a very tiny something, she could not really decode. A car, some distance away. Gurgling water, maybe a river or a fountain. And wind? Yes, wind.

Toto, I've a feeling we're not in London anymore.

So eventually, she took a chance in an alternate strategy and stirred softly.

"Welcome back amongst the living, Kitten"

Surprised by the well-known baritone voice, and throwing to the wind any cautiousness, she snapped her eyes open.

"Uncle Sam?"

Not her brightest idea. The morning sun flowing into the room slammed in her stressed optic nerves sending a wave of pain into her brain. She squeezed her eyes shut and slumped in her pillows. She barely heard the slight chuckle, muffled by the headache.

"So you tasted Ayesha's Weapon of Mass Destruction, didn't you?…drink this, Kitten, it should help a lot"

She felt a vial being forced into her hand. She managed to bring it to her lips, and swallowed the contents in a single gulp.

"Ayesha? Like in Ayesha Patil, the Yoga Teacher?" she whispered.

The pain was quickly fading, and she opened her eyes, nodding her thanks. She smiled, recognising the well built man, dark skinned, with long jet black hair tied in a ponytail.

"I see my special hangover draught has not lost efficiency."

"Oh gosh…What was that stuff? And…" regaining her ability to open her eyes without excessive suffering, she examined her surroundings. "Where am I?"

Sam smiled. "We are in Wales, near Llanberis. At this time of the year, the area is full of climbers. Weird people, climbers. You would not believe how easy it is for some magical people to fit in. And Ayesha's stuff was Lysergic Acid."

"LSD?"

"Yup. The LSD allowed you to override the compulsion on your mind and break through the memory charm. It was an excellent guess from Ayesha."

She nodded. "So, I'm a witch. No wonder why I was fascinated with the ruler or any stick…" She snorted, adding "Well, a good thing I never tried to ride a broom to the library."

"Yes, you are a Witch" something in his voice capitalised the word, "And a bright and powerful one. Very few minds would have survived this treatment. It was not a simple Obliviate to wipe out an embarrassing event. Your memory layout was shattered to hide your knowledge, all four years of frenetic magical education, and plant fake things above. You will have to work hard to sort things and regain consistency"

She stayed silent, scanning through her memories, her well organized mind, to check for missing pieces. Everything was there, but she was feeling a void of sorts.

"No, no damage. I've been learning the basics of memory optimisation. But something else is definitively wrong. So, what is it?"

"You feel it?"

"Yeah, or its lack. Something is missing. Can it be…my magic?"

Sam nodded, twitching a corner of his lips in an annoyed smirk.

"Fuck."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Short story, please." She asked, not trusting her voice for a longer sentence.

Sam came closer, sitting on the bed and taking one of Hermione's hand in his large, calloused one, for a surprisingly gentle caress. "A Binding ritual. Reversible. A bit tricky, it will need a huge amount of energy to dispel, so you'll have to wait for an equinox, at least, and be at a suitable place, a site of magical practices…"

"Like Stonehenge?"

"No, Stonehenge has been weakened by centuries of neglect. I'd recommend Kirkjubaejarklaustur in Iceland or Mount Bego in southern France. But I have another site in mind, far, far away"

She let go a sight. Nodded. After a long silence, she whispered. "Leave me alone, please."

Sam nodded and left.

He closed the door smoothly, sealed it with a wandless spell, and went downstairs to sit loudly on a stone bench outside the house.

"How is she?"

"Herself. Quite."

"I am tempted to raid Hogwarts and blast it to sand. How could they do this to us, Sam? To her? Why?"

Sam squeezed Hermione's father's shoulder. "My guess is that she interfered with some high level plans. Ayesha told me she is the closest friend of their Boy Who Lived." he said, drawing imaginary quotes in the air around the last three words.

"The Boy Who Lived? That's her friend Harry, isn't it?"

"Himself. Maybe they were slowly drifting beyond friendship and they" another set of imaginary quotes "decided to wipe her from the whole picture…I wonder why they left her alive. It would have been much easier to kill her. This twisted planning is typical Dumbledore. Never takes a life, just destroys it…" He grabbed a pebble and threw it in the stream.

"We'll sort that out. We've always sorted those things, man. Since then. She must have been a thorn in their side, but she is...Well, she's Hermione. Her heart's in the right place, and she will win. Sweat, think, innovate if needed. She'll win. It will not be easy, but I trust her. I felt her…growing dedication to sort this out."

"Who Dares, Wins. Who Sweats, Wins. Who Plans, Wins?"

"The only easy day was yesterday, anyway."

"Okay, boys, when you're done showing off your old mottos, you'll come inside and grab a bite?"

"Yes, Ayesha, sir!"

Both men stood up.

"Sam?"

"Yes, Hawkeye?"

Hermione's father stopped in his tracks. "Nobody called me Hawkeye since…"

"…since you smashed the jaw of the idiot who cheered loudly when you blew the head of that unfortunate Argentine sentry in 79 at eight hundred yards with crosswind. Don't pretend you don't ache for a trigger to pull these days?"

"I do. Or maybe some thorough cavity treatment, you know, painkillers denied. But, well, that was not the point. I just wanted to say I'll never thank you enough for what you're doing for us"

"I'm Hermione's godfather, aren't I? We're just lucky Ayesha settled not far from you and put the clues together. If you have to thank someone…"

"He did it a million time so far. Come and eat, guys."

Hermione's father took a seat at his wife's side. She grabbed his hands and squeezed it.

"Come on, Hawkeye." She said with a smile, over emphasizing the nickname. "grab a bite"

"Yes, Hot Lips dear."

Hermione's mother scowled and smacked him.

Oblivious to her parent's attempts to lighten the mood with their childish banter, Hermione was slowly collecting her wits. If Uncle Sam was there, it was likely because things were getting ugly. Sam was, as far as she knew, her father's closest friend. In fact, his name was not Sam, but Gaagii, meaning 'Raven' in Navajo. He was a native American, and the unlikely friendship with a British dentist came from the random pairing of Special Forces teams in British-US joint operations.

She also knew he was a wizard. She had learnt that a couple of weeks after McGonagall's introductory visit, when he had came to her room with a present. A book, of course. A Compendium of Potion Ingredients and Their Interaction Patterns. She had almost panicked, Statute of Secrecy and all that. He had calmed her with a smile, and told her that not only he was a wizard, but that he had known for years that she was a witch. He even demonstrated that by turning into a raven.

And thinking of raven and wizards…The image of a raven-haired friend of hers came to her mind.

Oh my god…Sexually active indeed.

She now remembered vividly, that fateful night after the Triwizard Tournament. She was unable to sleep, so she sneaked out of her dormitory, into the fourth year boy's to pick up an awesome artefact from a trunk. An invisibility cloak, belonging to her friend, Harry. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Must Have Done Something Ugly in a Previous Life to make Fate such a bitch. She had donned the cloak, swiftly disappeared from the eyes of the living. A silencing charm on her feet, she had tiptoed across the castle, and reached the Hospital Wing. Picking the lock of the side door with a hairpin, a trick learned from the Weasley twins, was child's play. As soon as she had stepped inside, she had heard the whimpering behind the curtains surrounding a bed. His bed.

He was crying softly in his sleep, and she had rushed at his side to try and soothe him by gently brushing his forehead, before resorting to cuddling him, drawing circles with her fingers on his chest, eventually waking him.

Startled, he had almost jumped out of reach. Almost. She had grabbed him, pinning him to the bed.

"You're strong" he had whispered.

"Never underestimate the power of the SAS daughter's side" she had whispered.

"Oh? I thought your father was dentist?"

"He is, but before, he was in the SAS. Sniper."

"Scary."

Harry had given in and accepted the embrace.

"Thanks, Hermione. I needed some human warmth."

"I will always be there for you, Harry"

"I wonder if it is a good idea"

"Whatever. I. Love. You. I will always be there for you"

They locked eyes, and Harry began to cry silently.

"I…I love you too, Hermione, you are my best friend"

She had smiled, and pecked his lips. "Silly boy" and kissed him again. And again. And again, until he became responsive and began kissing her back, pouring all his desperation, his fears, into the kisses.

"I do love you, Harry" she said.

The moon was lighting Harry's bed like a spotlight. She smiled and detached herself from his embrace, and without further ado, pulled her nightgown over her head, smirking at his flabbergasted face. Too surprised to let the hormones kick in. Well, they eventually had sprung into action, once she had moved on some ministrations that were, hmm…let's say than 'far beyond friendly comfort' is a good estimate - I do love you, Harry » she had repeated soothingly, straddling him.

Sexually active, indeed.

At least, she had definitely not been raped.

That was the good news.

"Okay, so what now?" she whispered.

She stared for a while at the ceiling, assessing the situation. Memory charmed, magically restrained, and fired from the magical world. Who? Why? She had supported Harry the whole year, and well, she was proud to assert that she had been decisive to his survival. But if her predicament came from the Death Eater agenda, why nobody in Dumbledore camp checked on her yet? But why would Dumbledore condone her banishing? Unless her relationship with Harry was disturbing a greater plan?

"Oh, shit. Dumbledore, playing the Twinkling Manipulative Old Bastard? That would be far fetched"

She left the bed, grabbing a set of clothes waiting for her on a chair and tiptoed towards the bathroom. She stayed a while under the water, until her growling stomach reminded her that lunch time was overdue. She dressed, and slowly made her way downstairs. The house was a bit worn out, likely an old farm revamped in a lodge of sorts, for amateurs of fresh air and wilderness. She paused at a landing, to survey the landscape. Moors and hills, with steep cliffs of dark stone. She noticed a pair of coloured shapes progressing slowly upwards. She resumed her descent and, on the ground floor, followed the echoes of a conversation to the kitchen.

"Kitten! How are you feeling?"

"Fine, dad. I'm just hungry" she replied, sitting heavily on the bench.

She tucked in the plate Ayesha had put in front of her, and ate in an absolute silence for a few minutes until, suddenly aware of the stares of the four adults, she blushed slightly and paused, wiped her lips with a paper napkin and drank a whole glass of clear water.

"So, what now?"

All stares converged towards Sam, who shrugged and looked at Hermione's father.

"Hawkeye?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow to her father, who sighted, scowled, frowned, and eventually spoke.

"I don't know why, but somebody decided to kick you out of the Magical World. Apparently, you were not banished by some authority, since Ayesha could not find any official statement. You just seem to have vanished after leaving the Hogwarts Express."

Hermione interrupted him, and looking to Ayesha, asked, "Ayesha? Are you by chance related to the Parvati and Padma Patil?"

Ayesha nodded. "They are my nieces. After you confessed your doubts, and cried yourself to sleep, I performed a scan and detected the memory charm. Any brain should have fried under such a massive alteration, so I connected the dots and, according to the rumour, there was only one witch strong enough to survive this ordeal"

Hermione blushed under the praise, but Sam cut it, "You were in the process of breaking the charm. It would have taken a few more months, but you would eventually have worn it out. It would have been harder for the magical bindings. And the hard time they would have given you might have rendered you insane."

"So, what is the plan?"

"Someone wanted you to disappear from the landscape. You will just do that. Vanish. Pfft."

"Where?"

"Opening soon in Boulder, Colorado, is a new Dental clinic managed by Wendell and Monica Wilkins" said her father pompously.

"Who the hell are Wendell and Monica…Wilkins?" asked Hermione.

"Hello" said her father, extending his hand across the table. "My name is Wendell Wilkins. Nice to meet you"

"And who am I supposed to be? Tabitha Wilkins? Mary Sue Wilkins? No, wait : Pamela Ann Wilkins?"

"Nah, you sound too British for this one. What about Samantha?"

"Are you shitting me?"

"Sabrina?"

Hermione shrugged. Then, giving in, said tentatively, "Sophie…"

"Sophie?"

"Yeah. Why not Sophie?"

"Sophie Wilkins." Said her mother. "Nice to meet you Sophie, my name is Miranda Wilkins"

"Monica" corrected Sam.

Hermione smiled without enthusiasm, before asking, "And what is Sophie Wilkins supposed to do?"

"Why, learn Magic, of course. You're a witch, after all. You'll just resume you education across the Pond"

"Is there a school of witchcraft in Boulder?"

"No. There are four schools in America. Salem, of course, another one in Squamish, north of Vancouver. I would not recommend those two since their headmasters are close buddies of Albus Dumbledore. Then, there is Great Lakes, in Illinois. The headmistress is rather okay. But I would incline towards the smallest of all, Moab."

"Moab?"

"Moab, Utah. On the edge of the Grand Canyon."

"Let me guess, that's more or less the Navajo land, isn't it? You were schooled in Moab."

Sam nodded. "Moab hosts all the misfits of American magic. Natives from Alaska to Cape Horn. Asians. Hawaiians. This one is for you. You would not only learn Magic, but Magics. Those of the Early practitioners, Incas, Aztecs, Anasazi…"

She shook her head. "But I've lost everything!" she huffed. "My books, my notes…my wand!"

"But don't you have committed everything in your formidable memory?"

She smiled slightly, shrugged.

"Good!" said Sam, clapping his hands. "I've already sent an email to Melissa Hawthorne, the Head out there, to test how things might go. She's quite thrilled to enrol you. It looks like she heard from one Transfiguration Teacher about a brilliant Muggleborn witch a couple years ago…It would be fitting for you to settle in Moab by the end of July, three weeks from now"

Hermione nodded, and asked, "And in the meantime?"

"In the meantime? You will work on your weak points. Muggle science and fitness. If you want to fight back, you'll have to be able to switch to warrior mode. This way, you will not stand out if people see you running and climbing around."

"Climbing?" she whispered.

"Yes. Balance, coordination, strength. Very good. And we're in one of the best place in the

Isles".

She made a face. "Is climbing mandatory in Moab?"

Sam chuckled. "No, the only mandatory thing is dedication and intelligence. And an open mind"

"Open mind?"

"I'll spare you the surprise of the differences between Western Magic, moreover British, and anywhere else in the world. One of them is, as you'll soon find out, many don't rely on spells and magic, but seek a larger picture where the world is less binary than you've been taught. There is an infinite scale of shades between, as a pureblood would say, the white of magic and the black of Muggle. All those subtleties need a better grasp of the larger picture"

"And there" cut Ayesha, "your current predicament becomes a blessing"

Hermione looked at her questioningly, while the Yoga Teacher was putting a soothing hand on her arm. Upon the touch, she felt some kind of…vibration? like a very light electric shock, and her eyes lit with understatement.

"You mean, with my magic restrained, it is…sort of…silenced? Like…I the car's engine is off, so I can hear the noise of the wheels on the gravel?"

"Nice analogy" replied Sam. "I want you to cut with your habits of over abstraction, which is, we all know, your forte. I want you to grow more instinctual, more physical. Then, you'll get a better grasp on your magic when it comes back. Today, we'll go out for a nice hike, and tomorrow, a run first thing in the morning. It's also a great opportunity to tone your body without the help of magic"

They all stayed silent for a long time. Suddenly, Hermione asked, "And what about Crookshanks?"

They all exchanged stares, and there were powerless shrugs.

Then, Hermione's mother broke the silence, "I'd like to know who is the slimy little shit, twinkle-toed cocksucker down here who just signed his own death warrant messing with my baby girl's pet!"

"Mum!"

-x-

Somewhere in Devon, a mammal loosely related to Felix Domesticus - a kind of cat - was chasing garden gnomes. He suddenly paused, his body language expressing surprise and annoyance. Surprise because he had became aware without any notice, of a very faint presence, a presence he had been denied for a while.

And that was annoying. With a flick of his paw, he swatted away a careless gnome who slumped against a low wall, bleeding from three deep gashes, and trotted away, his tail swaying menacingly.

-x-

The next days passed painstakingly. Hermione did enjoy the tracks, was surprised by the fun that rock climbing was, the adrenaline rush of the difficult moves and the delicate work on her balance. But the remaining fitness training was hard, and she began to despise the name of one Patricia Deuster, the editor of The Navy SEAL Physical Fitness Guide which had replaced "Hogwarts : A History" as her reference book, even if it was a Xerox of a draft of the book obtained by Sam through his contacts in the Navy.

And as a light reading, she also engrossed herself in Muggle course books, mostly maths and physics.

She would sometimes suffer through bouts of angst. She would think of her friends, wondering what they had been told of her fate. They could consider her as dead, or worse, expelled, or even more painful, having fled. She would also panic, wondering if her magic could be restored to work at its previous level, if her knowledge was really intact. Sam and her parents had definitely refused to provide her with any magic book, for fear of being discovered, and one evening, Sam and Ayesha began quizzing her on the whole Hogwarts curriculum in order to prove her wrong.

"I told you everything would be committed to memory by this formidable brain of yours!" eventually declared Sam.

Hermione stayed silent, thinking hard, pressed by a thought, triggered by a unlikely set of circumstances. Then, a smile slowly spread on her face. Neither her usual caring smile, nor the mischievous one, but a rather upsetting feral grin.

"Yeah, everything is committed to memory. And even a juicy detail I caught on Dumbledore's desk before blanking out"

"Which detail?"

"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London."


A few Notes

(1) Hawkeye and Hot Lips are of course inspired by M.A.S.H. (Robert Altman's movie). You are now free to picture Hermione's parents as Donald Sutherland and Sally Kellerman.

(2) Sophie and « Great Lakes » come straight from Bellerophon30's « The Brave New World », one of the first novel-length fanfics I ever read. Worth this small tribute, even if the story is far from my favs, because Hermione takes too many punches for my liking, and HP characterization suffers from a bad case of Harry-Sue, Imho. This said, I hope "my" Hermione will not come out too Marysueish…

(3) The flowery wording of Hermione's mother outburst is heavily inspired by one of Sergeant Hartman lines in Stanley Kubrick's "Full Metal Jacket". A great source of inspiration in this field.

(4) The Navy SEAL Physical Fitness Guide was published in 1997, and this part of the story takes place in the summer of 1995. In fanfiction, there's "fiction", eh eh.

(5) Plot weakness alert: Hermione can have the knowledge of Grimmauld Place since Dumbles "accidentally" shows her the secret. Canonically, she should not be able to tell anyone. In fanfiction, there's "fiction", take two (recursive).