"Who do I think I am? Who do I think I am? Who do you think you are, speaking to me like that?" a woman's voice screamed.
The voice reached out to Hermione and slowly nudged something within her subconscious.
The woman's fiery anger, now replaced with an icy edge, continued, "you have until midnight tonight. Remember who you're dealing with."
The loud bang of the phone being slammed down turned the dull ache within Hermione's head into an intense stabbing pain. Cupping her hands around her head to relieve the pressure, Hermione willed her heavy eyelids to open. Without even having to look around, she realized that she was no longer in her dorm room. Entranced by the vivid variations of pinks, silvers and blues on the ceiling, Hermione could not look away from the most beautiful mural she had ever seen. She admired the Magnolia tree bathed in moonlight until the sound of footsteps pulled her back to reality.
With an increased thudding in her chest, Hermione's eyes darted around the room, and she sluggishly pulled herself up. She took in her surroundings, the dark purple curtains, the cream sofa that she woke up on, and panic began to set in. She wasn't even on the Hogwarts grounds anymore. The small beige apartment was filled with light pine furniture and decorated with whimsical prints, like the one on the ceiling. The wall to her right was lined with bookcases filled with stacks of newspapers. Assorted elephant figurines were the only other objects on the shelves. A small grey elephant, trunk extended up, held a deep blue gem. It caught the light and twinkled at Hermione. Hermione blinked as the elephant blurred, a cloudy haze swaying back and forth over it. She let out a soft gasp as a stabbing pain behind her eye forced her to lie back down.
As the pain dulled, Hermione opened her eyes and examined the small coffee table directly in front of her. It was bare, except for an open and empty wand case. Hermione squinted, unsure if her eyes were still playing tricks on her, and inched forward for a closer look. There, peeking out from under the black box was an unopened purple and silver embossed envelope. Stretching her arm to move the envelope closer, she winced as the sharp pain resurged and read the address.
Miss Jasmine Patel
713 Evergreen Terrace, Apartment 2 Hogsmeade
The sound of ratting dishes and approaching footsteps tied her stomach in knots. Hermione scrambled to place the envelope in the exact place she found it. She could hear the beating of her heart in her ears as she readjusted herself into her former sleeping position.
"Oh good, you're not dead" a woman's voice said. Hermione frowned as she opened her eyes and tried to place the petite woman standing in front of her. Her wavy black hair, berry- stained lips and hazel green eyes were completely unfamiliar.
The woman let out a small laugh as she registered the look on Hermione's face. "Only kidding. You've been sleeping for ages. How are you feeling?"
Hermione croaked, "a bit groggy, actually. But ok, thanks" and managed a small smile as a steaming cup of tea was placed in front of her. Comforted by the warmth in her tone, Hermione quickly glanced around for the source of the cold threats she overheard earlier.
"I'm Jasmine Patel" the woman said, smiling as she sat down across from Hermione. "I found you passed out last night and since you didn't appear to be hurt, I figured it was best to bring you to my place until you woke up." Hermione felt a wave of uneasiness and closed her eyes in an attempt to quell the swirling questions inside her head.
"Hermione Granger. And thank you. I'm not even sure what happened actually. One moment I was in my room, and the next I was waking up here." As Hermione reached for the teacup, her eyes were transfixed on her outstretched hand. A multi-coloured haze surrounded her skin. She looked up at a blurred Jasmine swaying back and forth in slow motion. Hermione massaged her temples and inhaled sharply as she was assaulted with a high-pitched ringing in her ears. She could hear Jasmine's muffled voice, echoing back to her, but could not understand what she was saying.
"Stop, stop, stop!" Hermione groaned weakly as she wrapped her arms around her head, rocking back and forth.
Gradually, the haze cleared and Hermione sat up.
"I said are you alright, Hermione?" Jasmine asked, placing a cool hand on Hermione's burning skin.
Hermione let out a long sigh and sunk back into the cushions. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "I can't remember a thing about last night. How did you find me?"
Hermione rested her throbbing head against the soft fabric as Jasmine recounted the events of the night before. She was visiting her sister, who attends Hogwarts, and left just after ten o'clock. Since it was a beautiful night, she decided to take the scenic path back to Hogsmeade. When she reached the pond she saw Hermione, in her pajamas, unconscious on the ground near the bench.
As Jasmine listed the various charms and potions that could have resulted in her memory loss, Hermione noticed her voice slowly fade away. She was then bombarded with flashes of images, changing too quickly to fully separate one from another. Her brows furrowed as she tried to recall them.
"What happened, did you remember something?" Jasmine screeched, reeling in Hermione from her thoughts. Hermione looked at Jasmine before answering and saw something unsettling flash behind her hazel green eyes. She decided not to ask the question that had been simmering in the back of her mind since hearing Jasmine's story. If she found her on Hogwarts grounds, why didn't she just take her to the infirmary? "No. My head just hurts."
Jasmine's eyes narrowed, and she abruptly got up and walked over to the window. As she looked outside, she let out a deep sigh and piled her thick wavy black hair on top of her head. Behind her right ear, Hermione saw two blue star tattoos, one slightly off centre that seemed to sparkle with a silver hue whenever she moved.
After a moment she slowly turned to face Hermione, a fake smile plastered to her face. "If you want, you can just give me the name of the person you were visiting at Hogwarts, and then I can make sure you get back to where you need to be." Sitting down on the window seat, Jasmine raised her foot up and retied the undone lace on her black combat boot.
"Visiting?" Hermione asked, noting the familiar icy tone in Jasmine's voice.
"Well yes, I mean, Granger is a Muggle name, right? And since you clearly can't attend classes there, you must have been visiting someone. Don't worry, though, I won't tell." Jasmine leaned forward, eyes like daggers, eager to cut through Hermione's response to her next question. "Who were you meeting, Hermione?"
"You know what?" Hermione said flustered, "thank you for all your help. But maybe I should just head over to Hogwarts and speak to Headmaster Snape. I think there's been a misunderstanding." Hands shaking slightly, and foggy mind pounding, Hermione placed her teacup on the table and began to get up.
"Oh sweetie, I think that potion or whatever you took, is still messing with your mind a bit. Professor Dumbledore is the Hogwarts Headmaster, but as of two days ago, you can't find him at Hogwarts. You'll need to head over to St. Mungo's Hospital."
Hermione's jaw began to drop as she tried to comprehend the words she just heard. Aware of Jasmine's scrutinizing gaze, Hermione quickly composed a neutral expression and stammered, "oh yes...right, of course."
"It's still a top story," Jasmine said, grabbing a newspaper from one of the piles on her bookshelf. "The Ministry says they are exploring some leads, but I think they haven't got a clue." Hermione looked down at the front page of the Daily Prophet and saw a black and white photo of Dumbledore with the headline: HOGWARTS HEADMASTER IN CRITICAL CONDITION, ATTACKERS STILL AT LARGE.
Speechless, Hermione felt her legs go weak and struggled to remain standing. Steadying Hermione with one arm, Jasmine guided her toward the front door. Taking a knee-length tan coat off a hook, she extended her arm to Hermione.
"If you're heading there in your pajamas, you might want to cover up with this," Jasmine said winking. "Otherwise they might try and keep you there."
As Hermione hurried out of Jasmine's apartment, she wrapped the coat tightly around her body and fumbled with the last button. Looking down at her shaking hands, Hermione took a deep breath, and was surrounded by Jasmine's sweet vanilla scent. It enveloped her and Hermione felt it burn in the back of her throat. Once outside, she froze in front of the building, unsure of where to go first. Warming her hands in her front pockets, Hermione looked up at what was left of the vibrant pinky orange sunset and exhaled. Her fingers closed around something rough and Hermione pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. Opening it, Hermione saw a picture of Dumbledore, reminiscent of his portrait that was now hung in the Headmaster's study at Hogwarts, with the words: Where were you on the night of September 3rd?
Looking up, Hermione realized that the street was littered with these papers, scurrying in the wind, and many were posted on store windows and lampposts. Hermione shook her head and refolded the paper before placing it back in her pocket. She was tired of the never-ending questions that continued to cloud her mind. She needed answers. As the cool evening breeze ruffled her hair, Hermione picked up her pace and headed down the street.
***
Hermione stood in front of the large grey building with a puzzled expression on her face. As she looked at the official name of the hospital, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, etched into the stone, Hermione felt her pulse quicken and her mouth go dry. This was the right place; yet, it wasn't the right place at all. The impossibility of this weighed heavily on her, and she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead.
Snippets of information floated through her mind, Muggles can't attend Hogwarts, Dumbledore is in a coma, I am in my pajamas... She laughed aloud at how ludicrous it sounded and gave a sheepish smile to the elderly man in the grey hat. Hurrying by him, and his dirty look, Hermione passed through the doors and made her way to the Inquiry Desk.
She waited patiently behind the woman carrying a large coral and teal polka-dot box that appeared to be breathing, and began fiddling with the belt on her jacket. In a matter of seconds, she would approach the Welcome Witch, but how could she possibly ask for Dumbledore's room number? Obviously the newspaper articles were faked, she told herself. She had attended his funeral. But why would Jasmine go through all the effort to fool a complete stranger? Hermione chewed on her bottom lip as she realized she was next in line.
"Yes?" the Welcome Witch asked, looking straight at Hermione. She wore a sky blue name tag with the name Azalea printed on it.
Hermione slowly walked up to the desk and let out a deep sigh. "This is going to sound crazy, but someone told me Albus Dumbledore was here and obviously I know –"
"Fourth Floor – Spell Damage," Azalea muttered without looking up from her parchment, "room 403."
In a daze, Hermione stepped away from the desk and watched as a multitude of colours swirled before her eyes. Grabbing the edge of the desk in front of her, Hermione closed her eyes and tried to steady herself; however, the welcomed darkness did nothing to stop the world from spinning out of control. Hermione hesitantly opened her eyes and was confronted with the tip of a dark brown wand pointed right at her.
"Just close your eyes," Azalea said in her monotone voice. And as Azalea let out a loud sigh, Hermione felt the familiar tug of being apparated. When she opened her eyes again, she was standing in front of Dumbledore's room.
The walls a sunshine yellow, Hermione moved toward the bed, which was surrounded by dozens and dozens of flowers, piles of presents, candy boxes and get-well cards. She stood by a vase of purple lilacs and inhaled their sweet comforting fragrance. There, before her, was the man whose funeral she attended mere months ago. She inched closer, her heart thudding. With his long flowing white hair and beard freshly combed, Hermione couldn't help but think how different he looked without his glasses. She was in a state of wonder as she admired his peaceful state and touched his cheek to make sure this wasn't some kind of illusion. It wasn't. He was really there.
Hermione suddenly felt her eyes fill with tears and slumped into the chair beside his bed. She sobbed into her hands. "Please wake up. I don't know what's going on." Wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve, she took his large, rough hand in her two small ones and spoke from her heart.
"Professor Dumbledore, it's me, Hermione Granger. If you can hear me, please give me a sign. Studies have shown that coma patients can often hear what others say to them, so I'm going to try. I don't know how you're even here right now, but I'm thankful because you are the only one I know who can figure this out. There is something very wrong here...in the world...and I seem to be the only one noticing this. I need you to please come back to us, ok? Just try, please. I can't do this on my own."
Hermione sat there, staring at Professor Dumbledore, eyes surveying his body for any movement, an eyebrow twitch, a finger move...
Suddenly, she felt something sharp jab her between the shoulder blades and a man's hand cover her mouth.
"Don't scream or I'll jinx you. Now, who are you really, and what are you doing here?"
Breathing heavily, Hermione stopped struggling against her attacker and raised her hands to show that she was willing to comply.
"I'm Hermione Granger," she said as she began to slowly get up, "I was just –"
"Stay where you are!" he ordered, shoving her back down. "No, you're not. I'll give you one more chance to tell me the truth. Who are you?"
Tears streaming down the sides of her face, she choked on her words and whispered, "I am Hermione Granger, I swear it. Please, believe me. How can you be so certain that I'm not?"
He pressed his wand even harder into her back and whispered back, "because Hermione Granger is dead."