A/N: I was on vacation, Mexico was knocked out by Brazil, and work has been a nightmare but I noticed more people followed this story while I was away. Enjoy this next one, and as I've said before if you have any questions I'd be glad to clarify anything

once again uploaded from my phone, so excuse any formatting goofs

Chapter 4: Wake Me Up

Once, she might have been afraid of death, but actually it was quite comfortable. She felt calm, rested even, and relaxed into her consciousness like crawling beneath the fluffy blankets on a warm bed. Death felt much nicer than she was expecting, and it smelled like...cinnamon? No, no, no that's not right. It wasn't just cinnamon, that smell was harsher, and too familiar for Athena to forget: pepper-up potion.

Her previously peaceful state was disturbed by the hurricane of thoughts rushing through her brain. One memory was particularly vivid. Athena suffered several quidditch injuries during her years at Ilvermorny, and she became well-acquainted with the school's medi-wizard, Healer Benton, and his medical office.

After catching a particularly nasty bludger to the head in a game against the Horned Serpents, Athena was under concussion protocol. Healer Benton made her drink the sticky, spicy pepper-up potion for a full 48 hours to conduct observations and monitor the injury.

That particular experience made her recognize the smell instantly, but why would death smell like pepper-up potion? Was she in hell? Did the wizarding world even have a concept of hell? She decided it could be possible that she was in hell, at least until her eyes fluttered open. Then, all she felt was pain. This was most certainly hell.

From the blinding whiteness burning her eyes to the soreness she felt throughout her body, the overwhelming pain consumed her. She groaned and through her vision, still clouded by tears, she flinched when a green blur rushed towards her. What the hell is that? She thought frantically. As quickly as she could with arms that felt like they'd been trampled by hippogriffs, Athena rubbed her eyes to clear her vision.

She took her hands away and the blurry scene focused into what looked like a hospital room. Whatever she had done at the Department of Mysteries landed her in the hospital. She hoped this was the extent of the damage, and that red-headed ministry tyrant wouldn't get her in too much trouble when she returned to Ilvermorny. Her eyes caught the lime green once more, and she noticed they were robes. The witch wearing them had plain features, amber hair pulled back into a low bun, and large lavender cat-eye glasses that were too big for her face. She wasn't old but definitely older than Athena.

Athena attempted to ask the older woman what happened and why she was in a hospital, but all that escaped her mouth was a dry wheezing sound. The neon-clad witch finally turned her attention to Athena, grabbing an empty glass from the table beside the hospital bed and handing it to Athena. The witch pointed her wand at the glass, muttering auguamenti in a surprisingly deep voice. Athena guzzled the water, quenching a thirst she didn't know she had.

The witch refilled the glass once more whilst announcing " 'M Healer MacKenzie," in a distinctly Scottish accent. "Yer at St.Mungos, lass. Whatever ye've gotten yerself inta ruffled a couple Ministry feathers," she went on smiling and shaking her head in amusement. As if they'd been waiting for the Healer to say that, two wizards in navy robes burst into Athena's room.

The first was a short, stocky man with pasty skin, dirty blonde hair, and just above a deep grimace he sported a fluffy mustache of the same color as his hair. The other wizard was...the Minister? That couldn't be right. This man looked about twenty years younger than the one she met only a few days ago. Maybe this guy was his son.

Healer MacKenzie was not impressed by the intrusion. She narrowed her eyes at the men and made a noise of disapproval. "Tha' wasna necessary, you great brutes," she spat acidly. "She's only just woken up, give the lass a mo' before ye overwhelm her!"

"Urgent auror business, madam," Mr. Mustachio grumbled. "Very urgent. I'm afraid you'll need to leave while we ask your patient some questions."

Urgent auror business? What the Merlin's left testicle did she possibly do to get aurors involved?! They probably knew you got separated from Destiny and the group, she tried assuring herself. She had a terrible feeling spread like fire through her body and tried racking her brain to figure out what happened. While lost in her thoughts, Athena didn't see Healer MacKenzie leave (albeit reluctantly), nor did she hear Mr. Mustachio ask her something.

"Do. You. Speak. English?" Mr. Mustachio asked her slowly and deliberately, for what must have been the second time. She gave him a look of disbelief and couldn't stop the sarcastic response before it escaped her mouth, "yeah, actually I do. What about you? Sounds like you're having some trouble with it. Would French be better?"

The minister look-alike chuckled a little, which brought a sparkle to his eyes; the same sparkle Athena swore she saw the in the older man's eyes at the World Cup. Was it genetic perhaps? Mr. Mustachio sighed something that sounded like "American" and shook his head in frustration. He interrupted her thoughts once again, "I'm Auror John Macclesbee," and gesturing to the other wizard, "this is Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, please tell us your name and anything you may remember before waking up here."

Athena's eyes widened and focused on the dark-skinned wizard with the twinkling eyes. Was it possible that this man looked so familiar and had the same name as his father? It was odd, she supposed, but people are named after their parents all the time. After the mustcached-Macclesbee tapped his foot impatiently she began her tale: she was Athena Mayall, Ilvermorny student, visiting as part of the Ilvermorny delegation in the British Minister's special program, they went to the world cup, and recently had their tour of the Ministry where Athena was separated from her group.

The two men shared a meaningful look but said nothing to her. Instead, Macclesbee turned to his partner to whisper something furiously in his ear before leaving the room, navy robes billowing behind him. That left Athena alone with Auror Shacklebolt in complete silence. A few minutes had gone by and neither looked at each other.

This was getting annoying. Athena hated silence. She hated it in class when people refused to answer questions or participate in discussions, she hated it at parties when people were content to mill about without so much as a "hello" or "how are you", but what she hated most of all was when someone would not talk to her and she knew something was wrong. Clearing her throat uncomfortably, Athena launched into a longwinded rant:

"Excuse me, but what have I done exactly? Why am I here? No one has told me anything, you 'aurors' just barge in here and demand information, but give me none," but she paused in horror before continuing. "You've contacted MACUSA, haven't you? That's what Mr. Mustachio is doing right now! Shit, shit, shit, shit. They're going to expel me from Ilvermorny, they'll snap my wand – MY WAND! WHERE IS MY WAND?!" By that point Athena launched herself painfully from the hospital bed but her sore legs were too weak to support her for more than a few steps. Stumbling to the ground she collapsed into a puddle of tears.

While she sobbed the auror who witnessed the outburst came to her side. Extending an arm to help her up, Athena could see the sadness in his eyes. In a deep voice he consoled her, "I'm so sorry, Ms. Mayall, but we are just as confused as you are at the moment." He helped her settle back into the bed, tears still streaming down her face.

"What happened to me?" she asked in a small voice. She didn't want to let this man see her weakness anymore, but the uncertainty and confusion was weighing on her like a ton of bricks. The auror, still by her bedside took a deep breath before informing her that she was found in the Department of Mysteries, in an area where extremely experimental magic was taking place. She was wearing a Ministry visitor's badge, but there had been no record of her, nor any group visiting from America recently. The aurors were hoping she knew why she would be in such a spot. He assured her that her wand was safe and would be returned once their investigation showed that she wasn't a threat.

She laughed darkly. A threat? Me? Apparently, this was serious. Whatever happened in that room...wait that room, she didn't mention that.

"Excuse me, Auror Shacklebolt, there may be one detail I forgot to mention." The man she addressed looked at her with interest, waiting for her to continue. Wiping her eyes and composing herself to the best of her ability, she told the man about the spinning room and the great stone archway, how a voice was calling out her name, and begged for her help. She told him that she believed she was dead until she realized she smelled the nasty pepper-up potion. He cracked a smile at that detail but listened intently until she completed the tale.

When she finished, the wizard appeared to be deep in thought when an idea came to mind. He drew his wand and closed his eyes, and in his booming voice said, "expecto patronum!" A silvery white mist burst from the tip of his wand in the shape of a bobcat? A lynx perhaps? The detail didn't matter much, because this was the first corporeal patronus Athena had ever seen outside of a textbook. She looked on in awe as the auror said something to the patronus and it took off, bounding through the wall in a puff of smoke.

He turned his attention back to Athena asking her if she knew what day it was. "August 30th, I think," at least it was when she had her tour.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, nor what time of day it was because there were no windows in her room. He nodded, but urged her to continue, "yes, and the year?" What in the hell kind of question was that? Did she hit her head or something. Without hesitating she said, "it's 2018, didn't I already tell you that? We were invited to the 2018 Quidditch World Cup by your minister, the last time you held one was..."

"-1994," he interrupted her a dark look crossing his face and shrouding his eyes.

She wasn't sure what that meant, but unfortunately, she didn't have too much time to think about what the auror might me thinking. The door to her room opened revealing an old wizard wit silvery-white hair and a long beard, periwinkle blue robes with silver-stitched stars, and bright blue eyes behind half-moon glasses. The man was so familiar to her, she had seen his face so many times in her History of Magic books. He had his own chapter in Hogwarts: A History Volume 2. Albus Dumbledore was in her room.

She burst into laughter. This explained so much, she was still dreaming! Man, she must've hit her head wicked hard to have a dream like this. The auror crossed the room to greet the older wizard and the two began talking, presumably about her, but this was a dream so they could be talking about the Great Goblin Rebellion of 1458 for all she knew. Wiping away her tears, this time from laughter, she caught her breath and looked towards the famous wizard.

He smiled at her strangely, like he knew what she was thinking and his eyes sparkled humorously. With a light chuckle he walked to her bedside and sat gently by the foot of the bed. Athena was impressed her subconscious could compose an image like this. Everything was so detailed, from Dumbledore's wrinkled face to his silver, well-worn slippers he was perfect. Just as she had seen him in portraits.

While she continued analyzing the older wizard he spoke quietly, "I assure you Ms. Mayall, this is no dream." Not believing the man she burst into another fit of laughter. When the look on his face became more serious than entertained, she quieted herself explaining the impossibility of everything: Dumbledore couldn't be here because he was dead long before she was born, Shacklebolt looked so much like his father who she'd met only a few days ago, and she was still herself. The only logical explanation was that this was a dream.

"You're Albus Dumbledore, for Morgana's sake!" She cried out, "how else could you be here?!" Dumbledore looked at Athena thoughtfully before asking her to go over the details of the previous week once more, before he would offer her an explanation. What did she have to lose in this dream-world? Nothing, so she went through everything from leaving Boston, to meeting Percy Weasley, attending the game between Mexico and Scotland, and finished with her tour of the Ministry.

Dumbledore held her gaze throughout the telling, never wavering once. When she finished he nodded, and for the second time that day she was asked if she knew what the date was.

"August 30, 2018," she mumbled annoyed, maybe these British wizards didn't own calendars or her dreams were just becoming intensely detailed. Dumbledore took in the information, while the Shacklebolt excused himself for a moment.

"You don't believe me," Athena groaned and laid back on the pillows in defeat. She closed her eyes, attempting to force herself awake. Embarrassing herself in front of the greatest wizard of the last century was turning this dream into a nightmare. She felt a hand rest upon her shin and cracked open her eyes to see the older wizard looking at her sadly.

"On the contrary," he said, "I do believe you, Ms. Mayall, and that is what makes your circumstances very difficult." Auror Shacklebolt came back into the room with a newspaper clutched tightly in his hand. He handed the paper to Dumbledore, who thanked him for retrieving it. "Ms. Mayall, I believe you've experimented with magic far beyond our knowledge when you were at the Department of Mysteries, and I suspect you are not in the same place you left. What I am about to show you may seem difficult to believe, but I assure you once more: this is no dream."

He handed Athena the newspaper, The Daily Prophet, it was called. A bold headline read, DARK MARK SPOTTED AT THE WORLD CUP, above a black and white photo of a smoky shape rippling in the breeze. She looked at the photo of a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth, she knew what that was too. They'd gone over it in European History of Magic, it was the symbol of a dark wizard Voldemort and the Death Eater movement, but the last time it was seen...was in the 1990s...

Frantically she looked for the date on the paper, it was just above the headline: August 30, 1994. 1994. She looked rapidly from the paper to Shacklebolt to the man who might actually be Albus Dumbledore, and started to believe the man when he told her this was no dream. Oh, but how she wished it was. She couldn't manage any words, but Dumbledore offered his own, "whatever happened in the Department of Mysteries must remain a secret, your true background must remain a secret, but most of all you are to tell no one of what you may know about the future or future events."

"You-you're still...still at war. I know, Professor Dumbledore, I took every History of Magic class offered at Ilvermorny," Athena droned devoid of any emotion. She was still processing this unimaginable situation. "I know a lot more than you may think an American would, but yes I know this could get a lot of people hurt – killed even." She gulped as the weight of this new reality landed on her.

"I can't go home, "she announced matter-of-factly, "or to Ilvermorny, I don't exist there yet." She raised her eyes to look at the elderly wizard who nodded sadly.

"I haven't finished school though," she pleaded with him, "I don't have anyone, what am I going to do, where am I going to go?" She dropped her face to her hands, at almost eighteen years old she was not ready to face a wizarding world that wasn't even her own, in a time that wasn't her own, all alone. She felt Dumbledore pat her once more. She did not remove her head from her hands because if she did, she would surely cry again.

"Though phoenixes suffer when they burn, they rise from the ashes born anew, and so you shall, Ms. Mayall," the professor assured her. It was a nice sentiment, he should put it writing and sell it, but it didn't solve any of her problems.

"You will finish your schooling at Hogwarts," he said resolutely and Athena's head snapped up at that. Looking to Dumbledore, she couldn't believe what she just heard. Hogwarts. He just said Hogwarts, she would be going to Hogwarts, the school she had only dreamt about till this point. Hogwarts.

Reality, that salty bitch, slapped Athena once again, "but Professor Dumbledore, I have nothing, no one, how am I going to get my books and robes and...and... - "he held up a hand to cut her off. "Ms. Mayall, you will be taken care of while you are here, I only ask in return that you remember the importance of your discretion when it comes to your background," he instructed with a gleam in his blue eyes. She nodded.

"As for the story others may wish to know while you are with us, you are from America," he gestured to her, acknowledging her very obvious accent, "your parents met there on holiday, your father passed when you were a child and your mother recently died from a particularly acute case of dragon pox, and you've come to live with your grandmother, a squib, in Surrey, Arabella Figg. Mrs. Figg is a member of the Order and would be happy to help. I will inform Mrs. Figg of the particulars and I believe she would be very grateful for the company, you see."

Athena was making mental notes of the details so she'd know her story inside and out: still American, dad died young, mom got dragon pox, grandma Figg is a squib and a member of Dumbledore's legendary Order of the Pheonix. Cool. She wondered how Dumbledore could develop this intricate backstory so quickly and provided only so many details as were necessary to avoid suspicion.

Dumbledore informed her that Auror Shacklebolt, or Kingsley as he'd asked her to call him, would retrieve her books and supplies for the upcoming year, and she would spend the remainder of the summer with a family that was also a part of the Order. He informed her they had several children around her age that would welcome her and could be trusted to keep her safe. With only the remainder of today and tomorrow she only had a short time to prepare herself for Hogwarts. Dumbledore apparently thought it would be best spent around others her age.

When they finished going over the details, Dumbledore called for a nurse to return her wand and discharge her. The two walked through the halls of St. Mungos until they reached a designated apparition area. Dumbledore looked to her, asking if she was familiar with apparition. She grinned widely, "of course, sir. I'm seventeen, and I've had my apparition license for nearly a year. My birthday is in early September, so I am older than most in my school year."

He gave a single nod and a warm smile of approval and asked her to take his arm regardless because she did not know where she would be going. As soon as she placed her right hand on his periwinkle-clad arm they took off with a 'pop'!