The young man, who called himself Harry Potter, was winding down his recounting of an incredible story. It couldn't possibly be true. It had included goblins, elves, dragon, ghosts, witched and wizards. Francis, who had been told her real name was Hermione Granger, sat in disbelief as she listened to his final words.

"And then I decided to return the wand to the headmaster's tomb. Ron thought I was mental, but you agreed with me. I felt that it was more trouble than it was worth, and I'd had enough for a lifetime. Although, that changed within the next year."

"What happened," asked Francis/Hermione.

"You," he replied. "Or, more precisely, my understanding of you. We returned to the school to finish things out. Ginny and I broke up. Dating me wasn't quite the level of excitement she wanted anymore. You disappeared into the library and your revision schedule. Ron got mad at all of us and by Christmas that year, we were all single again."

Francis/Hermione looked at her hands. There were thin scars crisscrossing them, indicative of papercuts over a long period of time. "And then?"

"The librarian found you, less than 7 stone. You were back to your eleven-year-old weight. You had been using glamour spells to hide it. I was so angry and scared. You claimed that you had to be better than everyone else in order to get employment. You couldn't bring your parents back for another 6 months. I offered to help, and you bit my head off. You claimed that I had a hero complex and needed to fix your life."

Sister Anne chuckled. "She's not that much changed."

Francis/Hermione grinned. "Too right. I can take care of myself."

Harry smiled lightly. "I know. But even the strongest of us need a crutch from time to time. After we graduated, both in the top of the class, we prepared to go after your parents. The day we were to leave, we got word they had returned. Needless to say, your reunion did not go well. You came back to our place and packed your things and left. You said you needed time. You spent one night at your parents' home and then disappeared."

"But what happened between my parents and myself to make me leave?"

"Nothing that I know of. They seemed to be just as in the dark as I was. You just told them you had something to do. Macnair was operating as a muggle police officer to hide his drug and human trafficking business. He was operating out of the precinct in Littlehampton."

"Which is where the sisters found me. Mr. Potter, your story is amazing and far-fetched. The fact that it ties so neatly to mine shows either long term planning, or odd coincidence. There is no such thing as magic, nor do any of the creatures in your fable exist."

Sister Anne coughed, "Actually, he's telling the truth."

Francis/Hermione looked at her, open mouthed.

"You see dear, I am a witch. I stopped using magic years ago when I entered the convent. I knew Harry's parents and his godfather. I was once known as Marlene McKinnon and I attended Hogwarts as a child. I hid here when Voldemort began his initial attacks and when we all thought Sirius had turned dark."

"But you don't use magic."

"No dear. I gave up the wand all those years ago. I still have it, locked away. But my service is to God and unless He sees fit to have me return to the world of magic, I will remain here."

"Hermione, I have a wand that may be compatible with your magic," said Harry. "It is made of the same materials as your old wand. Just hold it, and let's see what happens. If you don't feel anything, or nothing happens, I'll leave." Harry took the vine wand and laid it on her lap. "I won't be happy, but at least I can return knowing you are alive and safe."

Hermione, for she now felt that this was her name, slowly reached to the wand. She stopped just inches from the wood and asked, "But what if I want it to be real and it isn't?"

"I dunno," replied Harry.

Hermione's fingers inched closer and just as she was about to grasp it, the wand flew into her hand of its own volition. It shook and began to sputter little sparks from the tip. "What do I do now?"

"Point it up towards the ceiling and say orchideous," said Harry.

Hermione gave him a look that questioned his sanity even further. "Okay. Orchideous." A large bouquet of roses formed at the tip of the want and fell to the floor. She looked at them in disbelief. "A trick wand then?"

Harry smiled. "No. Imagine a different flower. Anything at all. Something that I could have no way of guessing. After all, roses are a bit cliché."

Hermione closed her eyes and thought of the beautiful tulips she had seen pictures of from Holland. All the different colors floated in her mind's eye. "Orchideous." An even larger bouquet of tulips formed at her wand tip. All the colors she had just imagined, now sat on the floor in front of her.

Sister Anne looked amazed. "Mr. Potter, that's not possible. You can't change a spell like that."

"It's one of the things Hermione and I worked on in our last year of school. The major flaw in magic is that wizards and witches of the last few generations have suspended the belief that they can make these changes on the fly. I had the idea long ago when I noticed her blue bell flames lasting for weeks instead of hours. She wanted the magic to last that long, so it did. We managed to manipulate many spells this way. Magic wants us to play, to experiment and try new ways of figuring things out. So, when we asked her to, she did. I think Hermione was hit with a memory charm before she was thrown into the sea. Whatever he did to her, she wanted to forget. Magic acquiesced to her desire to forget and wiped away everything."

"So," started Hermione. "What do we do now?"

AN*** Sorry for the long wait.