Chapter 2
"Wingardium leviosa!"
With a swish and flick of her wand, Hermione levitated her large bulky furniture into an ornately beaded handbag. Her tables and chairs danced overhead towards their destination, shrinking and conforming to the narrow opening of the charmed purple bag. "It's bigger on the inside," she thought with a small grin as she flicked her wrist once more to tighten the strings. She stuck her wand into her back pocket and walked across the living room, taking her time to memorize the sounds that she had overlooked during her stay: the echo of her boots clonking against the hardwood floors, the grunt of her ancient window unit spewing cool air, and the hum of her ceiling fan whirling in a blur. She switched off the unit and walked back to the other side to turn off her ceiling fan. She allowed herself a few more seconds to scan the room, making sure that nothing important was left behind and flipped the switch to off. "Mischief managed," she whispered, saying goodbye to her muggle home.
For the past ten years, Hermione lived conveniently near Johns Hopkins in a one bedroom one bath apartment. Pale hickory wood floors lined her humble abode and intercepted with egg-white baseboard moldings and light blue walls. She made her way into the kitchen and stood beside her island, wiping the speckled granite countertop with her hand, dropping whatever crumbs lay across the surface. The espresso cabinets, once filled with mismatched dishes and glasses, were now hollow; her refrigerator humming with indifference to its own empty cavity. With a weary sigh, she leaned her elbows against her countertop and buried her face into her hands. Anxiety riddled her body as she thought about leaving her normal existence of Dr. Hermione Granger and transitioning back to Harry Potter's best friend. The muggle-born. The mudblood.
"It won't be like that anymore. I'm sure everything is different now," she hoped as she tried to envision what the wizarding world was like. She left twelve years ago and hasn't been back since. The main reason is because no one is supposed to know of her whereabouts other than Ron, Harry, McGonagall, and the Minister of Magic. However, Ron accidentally spilled the beans to his dad when they were out tinkering with muggle devices and having a couple of beers. This mistake resulted in Hermione obtaining a Secret Keeper to avoid another similar event.
"All this trouble just to keep such a dainty piece of jewelry secret," she joked as she rummaged under her shirt to pull out a golden chain. She kept it on at all times and only revealed it in the privacy of her home. She wanted to avoid any questions or curiosities about this unique piece, especially since it has what is considered a fashionable charm for muggle standards. Two golden rings encircle a golden medallion with a minuscule hour glass set in the middle. Along the outer rim of the two rings read an inscription that Hermione memorized by heart.
"I mark the hours, every one, Nor have I yet outrun the Sun. My use and value, unto you, Are gauged by what you have to do," she read out loud.
This Time-Turner looked exactly the same as the one she used many years ago to complete her courses at Hogwarts. After the battle it was decided by the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebot, that all Time-Turners be confiscated and destroyed from existence to prevent anyone from returning to the past and intervening in Voldemort's death. Yet, he decided to keep one locked away in the Ministry; that is until Hermione suggested to put it to good use.
Thanks to the overwhelming support of Hermione's friends and former professor, Kingsley determined that she was a person of integrity and intelligence. He trusted her and allowed her to use the coveted device for only 15 years or until she acquired the proper training required to institute the program she had proposed to him. The only drawbacks were that Hermione would only be able to communicate through the post to her friends so as to avoid drawing attention to herself in the muggle community. She was also not allowed to return to the wizarding community unless the Minister and two competent Aurors escorted her back into wizarding London. Reluctantly, Hermione agreed to the deal thus beginning the journey into her muggle higher learning.
Her first two years as a muggle student were spent at St. Andrew's University in Scotland. With a little help from charmed magic parchments, Hermione was able to deceptively apply and gain acceptance into a prestigious muggle university. She spent her two years obtaining her undergraduate degree; the Time-Turner and a few spells allowed her the luxury of completing credits within a timeframe that only a superhuman could achieve without being noticed by fellow students and professors. She then moved to America and spent the next three years in medical school at Johns Hopkins University. The last seven years consisted of her residency and fellowship at Johns Hopkins. During these last crucial years, she knew that the Time-Turner was not going to be a great asset during this part of her education, but she kept it in her possession anyway for safe keeping. In her opinion, it was safer in muggle America than wizarding London.
Throughout her time in Scotland and the first three years in America, Hermione never really had a life outside of school and so she didn't know too many people that she would consider a friend. That began to change one night at the hospital when Hermione was sleeping in the on-call room. On a metal extra-large twin bed, Hermione slept soundly, relishing the tranquility of her dreamless sleep and the fact that she was able to rest during her chaotic ICU shifts. Unfortunately, her dreamless sleep warped into visions of Ron sprawled across a debris ridden stone ground; a mocking smile etched onto his face with deadened eyes staring back at her, similar to the scene of Fred's demise. Then, her nightmare distorted into an unbearable scene where Harry succumbed to his death the night he sacrificed himself to save the wizarding world from Voldemort's insane beliefs. His limp body was hanging from Hagrid's careful hold as Voldemort's cackle echoed throughout the grounds of a beaten castle.
It began in her abdomen, an accumulation of her agonizing frustrations due to her inability to escape her nightmare, and then exploded from her throat; a vibrato of high pitches piercing the eardrums of those nearby. It hadn't registered to her that she belted out a blood-curdling scream. It was when she inhaled and couldn't fully expand her chest with fresh air that she noticed she had yelled. She tried again to inhale copious amounts of air, but failed once more. She bunched her white sheets onto her heaving chest, white knuckles exposing a death grip as she held them in her hands over her sternum. She willed her rib cage to rise and fall in a normal manner; she had only woke up hyperventilating twice before this episode, and she was embarrassed to learn that she attracted the attention of her colleague.
Dawson was asleep in the room beside hers when he was startled into alertness. Frantic, he ran into the room beside his, expecting to find a shocking gruesome scene that would rival those fabricated by eccentric horror movies. Instead, he found himself looking at a hysterical Hermione Granger sobbing and gasping for air while sitting on top of her bed. Her eyes, widened with worry and torment, followed Dawson's swift move towards her. He sat himself in front of her and looked straight into her wide eyes and began to speak calmly.
"Dr. Granger, I want you to listen to me and do everything that I say." Dawson's silvery tone revealed an assertive, low, rustic drawl; his Southern accent prominent with each word spoken. He propped an extra pillow behind her back, positioning her semi-fowler's for comfort, and kept his eyes on hers. "I want you to place your right hand on your abdomen and leave your left hand over your chest." Dawson modeled the movements and Hermione followed immediately. "Good, now take a nice deep breath in through your nose. Feel your stomach expand with your inhalation; a nice deep long breath. Now exhale through pursed lips while gently pushing into your abdomen. You're okay, just take slow deep breaths int through you nose 1-2-3...and out through your mouth 1-2-3-4-5." Dawson continued to breathe alongside Hermione and stayed with her until it was under control. He even went so far as to stay with her until she fell back asleep; much to Hermione's dismay. And he stayed with her long after she had fallen asleep.
Lost in her thoughts, Hermione didn't hear a man in billowing navy robes walk out of her fireplace with green flames licking at his heels. He was searching around the house to find the witch he was sent to return back to England when his boot landed on a wood plank, revealing his presence with a loud long creak. Spinning on her heels, Hermione pulled out her wand and yelled, "Petrificus totalus," simultaneously with the wizard as he yelled, "Protego!"
A blazing white light rebounded from the wizard's invisible shield and disintegrated into fiery embers, disappearing before touching the floor. "Bloody hell, 'Mione! What was that for?!" Holding out his wand in a defensive stance, Ron Weasley's furrowed eyebrows and incredulous expression prompted her to abort her fight or flight options. She relaxed her stance immediately and smiled from ear to ear.
"Ron!" Hermione pocketed her wand and ran towards her best friend, enveloping him in a tight, long overdue, embrace. "I missed you so much. How's Padma and the baby? Isn't her due date coming up already? And why the secrecy on the gender? Why don't you want to know before the birth? It'll make it so m-,"
"Hey! Slow down a bit. Let me get my bearings straight," Ron laughed as he pulled himself apart from Hermione's bear hug and took a deep breath. Towering over his petite friend, Ron looked down and returned the beaming smile Hermione had plastered on her face.
"It's so good to see you, 'Mione. It's been what? A year since we last saw each other? Hell, it feels even longer than that. Good thing I learned how to properly send muggle post. Otherwise it would have been impossible to keep in touch. And Padma is doing well; she says hi and sends her love. She is twenty-eight weeks
now. And like I told you before, we want to be surprised on the gender."
Ron smiled as he informed his friend on everything that was going on in his life. Keeping his hold on her, Hermione noticed his lanky body filled out into a broad sturdy build; his pale features accentuating his long pointy nose and chiseled chin. "He looks good," she thought happily. She noticed he was wearing long thin blue robes issued to Aurors in high positions at the Ministry.
Hermione gestured for him to take a seat on one of the bar stools at the island. "What a happy surprise! I had no idea that you would be one of the Aurors to escort me back to London. They just told me two Aurors were going to meet me here and take me back once Kingsley arrived."
"Honestly, I had no idea that I was coming to your apartment. I was with Harry and Kingsley at the Ministry when I was given this mission. The envelope just had an address and nothing else. Apparently, this assignment that you're on is highly confidential. I only know what Kingsley tells me and Harry has never spoke to me about your mission in public, only when we are in his or Kingsley's office. Dad says there have been people trying to find you and figure out where you've vanished to. In fact, Witch Weekly posted an article with theories of your whereabouts. My favorite one was that you are in Amsterdam and have a career as a dominatrix in the Red Light District."
"Really!? How odd." Hermione laughed out loud. She struggled to come up with a legitimate idea as to why people would want to remain updated on her life. She never understood the public's fascination with her. The last time she knew of a Witch Weekly article publishing anything about her was when Ron and her decided to end their romantic relationship.
It was after that infamous battle. Ron and Hermione had decided to spend a month grieving for the people that lost their lives during the pursuit of peace. They consoled each other as friends and as new awkward, yet comfortable lovers. Fortunately, being close mates for so many years gave them an advantage on how to gauge each other's reactions to good and bad situations, as well as how to calm each other down. Eventually, living became a little easier and the need to console one another was no longer necessary. They soon brought up the subject of what they wanted out of their lives; that compulsive feeling of guilt for having the chance to plan a future wasn't as prominent anymore. They discussed their expectations with this new relationship and where they felt it should lead them. Ron volunteered to go first. He talked about traveling to a sunny, warm, and tropical island and staying there for a year to relax and rehabilitate their minds and bodies. Eventually he would want to propose and marry Hermione in a small quaint ceremony surrounded by their loved ones.
"I would become an Auror once we returned from the island, Hermione. I've decided to speak with Kingsley about it on Monday. Harry too! We could start a family after that and raise them with Harry and Ginny's lot. Just imagine it! I can give you whatever you need. I can give our family whatever we need. I will provide for us, protect us, and love us fiercely. That's what I want." Ron's face glowed with prideful resolution and beamed with delight as he began to envision Hermione and him raising two children, one red hair and the other with mousy brown.
Hermione smiled and teared up after hearing Ron's expectations of their relationship and the amount of love and loyalty he had towards their theoretical family. But with an agonized heart, she knew she had to bring him out of his perfect reverie. And it wasn't because she didn't love everything that Ron planned for them. In fact, she felt that it was beautiful and perfect.
Hermione cleared her throat and braced herself for Ron's reaction. "Everything you just said sounds utterly brilliant and magnificently wonderful, Ron. It is everything that anyone could ever want." Ron's face lit up with joy as Hermione offered him a timid smile. Grabbing his hands and looking into them, Hermione continued.
"But I want more," she whispered with a catch in her throat.
Ron quizzically looked up at his girlfriend. "Of course, tell me what you want."
She knew what she had to tell him, and her heart ached with a pressure that seemed to tighten her chest and lungs the longer she tried to find the courage to confess her ambitions. After a couple of seconds, she made herself speak her mind. "After Fred's passing…" Hermione stopped for a second. Her throat began to constrict and her stomach tightened with grief as she tried to continue her statement. Her face contorted in agony for a moment and registered back to a frown as she kept the tears at bay. She continued, "I knew that enough was enough." She removed her hands from Ron's and wiped away a rogue tear that rolled down her cheek. Ron instinctively reached for her hand and kissed her fingers with a soft gentle peck, assuring her that it was okay to say what she needed to say. "Go ahead, 'Mione."
She looked up and stared appreciatively into his encouraging piercing blue eyes. "I remember looking at Fred's lifeless body, that morbid smile etched into his rigid face, as if trying to psyche us into thinking that he was okay. That he was just about to snap out of it and make us laugh. And…and I began to think, 'Isn't there anything else we could do? He was just here…there MUST be something we could do!' His death was unnecessary and I strongly feel that it could have been treated. He was a wonderful, funny, charming man and he didn't deserve to die."
Mutinous tears escaped Hermione's tightly shut eyes and she took a deep breath to compose herself before continuing. "And then we found out about Colin, Tonks and Lupin…and that solidified my decision. I want to improve and become progressive with our methods in healing witches and wizards after being hit with the Killing Curse. I can't handle losing anyone else that I love to that horrible spell; it will break me. I want to finish Hogwarts and then go into muggle society to become a medical doctor. And I want you to come with me." She rushed that last statement, confessing in a jumble of words. She gave Ron a moment to process everything she just said. She knew what he wanted and she could not see herself embarking on his new adventure, no matter how lovely it sounded. He released her hands and gazed down into his lap. Not wanting to lose his support Hermione pleaded, "I know it might not be ideal, especially after everything we have experienced, but this is something I need to do. This is something that can better both of us."
Ron remained quiet and didn't look at Hermione for several minutes. He thought about all she said and contemplated how her life would complement his own future. He thought about how his life would be if he were to tag along with Hermione on her quest to become a muggle professional. He did not want to be her second priority, and that is exactly what he would become if he followed on her path. He knew he would support her, but he wouldn't join her. Admitting that to himself brought bile up through his esophagus and he had to swallow forcefully into his throat to settle it back down.
He looked up into her sorry puffy brown eyes. Her crying reddened her nose and she began to hiccup intermittently between sobs. He dreaded what he was about to say next. "I can't go with you, 'Mione. I can't and won't allow myself to be your second priority. This dream that you have for yourself sounds big, and wonderful, and I think that you should do it. Don't let me drag you down or keep you from what you really want to do. This is something that I can't do with you, but I will always support you." Ron hoped for her understanding as he witnessed Hermione's face crumple into heartbreak and defeat.
He grasped her by the shoulders and brought her body into his own. She placed her head against his chest, his hands rubbing her back to comfort her. She could hear the rapid beating of his heart and his firm sculpted chest rise up and down with each breath. "I know you more than I probably know myself, Hermione. And I believe you can do better on your own. I love you, and if we had more time together then I could see us falling in love. But right now we want two different things and we care too much about each other to rob ourselves of the opportunity to find out who we truly are. We are more than just two thirds of the 'Golden Trio.' We are and will always be family. And if time and luck allows it, maybe we will find that our stars have aligned." They spent the rest of the night on the sofa, consoling and cuddling one another for the last time. The very next day Ron and Hermione announced to the family that they ended their relationship amicably and decided to remain friends. The sound of flames flaring out of a fireplace snapped Hermione out of her reverie and brought her back to her apartment with Ron sitting at her island.
"Oy!? Hermione! Where are you?" Yelled an all too familiar male voice. A creaky floorboard announced his presence as he made his way into the kitchen.
"Harry?!" Hermione yelled curiously, yet elated with the prospect that her other best friend was in her presence. She jumped off her stool, dropping it onto the floor with a loud bang, and made her way towards him. His unruly black hair fell over his left eye, right above his circular framed glasses while he flashed a toothy grin at the sight of her. He wore the same navy robes as Ron, but Harry had an embroidered white snow owl on his left sleeve. Hermione inhaled his scent the moment she buried her face into his robes. He smelled of chimney soot mixed with musky cologne as she took him into her arms.
"I missed you, Harry." Hermione replied, her voice muffled by his robes.
"I missed you, too. It's been too long. Glad to see you're here too, Ron." Harry nodded his head towards his partner.
Another burst of fiery green flames escaped the fireplace as Minister Shacklebot stepped out. His midnight black robes matched his signature kufi that he wore atop of his head. As he strode towards Hermione and Harry, he smiled genuinely in response to their attention. "Ms. Granger, it is always a pleasure to see you. And I'm sure it's a relief to know that you have completed your studies here in America."
Kingsley Shacklebot held out his hand once Hermione released Harry. She stepped forward and smiled warmly at the Minister of Magic. His towering presence and stoic posture emitted elitism and superiority, but his friends and close coworkers knew better. The minister maintained a cool and calm demeanor even in the toughest of situations; and combined with his smooth monotone voice, people were given the impression that he was a gentle giant that could be trusted.
"Minister, it is really great to see you, too. I can't thank you enough for allowing me to start and complete this assignment. I truly feel once we implement this program our capabilities in sustaining life will have a greater advantage in saving lives from the Killing Curse."
"I do not doubt it, Ms. Granger. Now, we must leave soon. The wards will no longer hold once it is 1200 and it is already ten 'til. I suggest we make haste and take the Floo Network to Hogwarts. I have already ensured that this passage is secured and untraceable. We cannot take any chances, especially not right now. People have recently become interested in your whereabouts, Ms. Granger."
"I know. Ron told me about the article in Witch Weekly. I just don't understand the sudden interest in me after all these years. But that's beside the point right now. We should go," Hermione stated as she made her way towards the fireplace along with the other wizards.
Minister Shacklebot reached into his robes and pulled out a handful of grayish powder. He flung it into the fireplace as blue flames roared to life. "Hogwarts, Headmistress McGonagall's office," enunciated the minister as he walked into the blazing inferno.
McGonagall's office resembled Dumbledore's only in the way that his books and paintings of past Headmasters and Headmistresses continued to inhabit the walls. Her décor consisted of modern industrialized wood and galvanized metals. At the foot of her large rectangular table lay a black cat sleeping soundly on top of a pile of cream sheets and linens. The Headmistress was seated behind her desk as the witch and wizards entered the room. Her distinguishable features remained prominent years after the trio left Hogwarts: pointed hat, tightened bun, black robes, and a spectacled countenance. She smiled affectionately at her former students and fellow Order Member. Since the Battle of Hogwarts, the surviving Order Members rarely had a reason to see each other, especially now that wizarding society lacks the presence of homicidal maniacs with fetishes for killing muggleborn witches and wizards.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts, everyone. It is really so good to see you all." The headmistress rose from her chair and made her way to the group. She hugged her former students in a loving embrace, spending a minute or two with each one, catching up with what was going on with their lives. When McGonagall made her way towards Shacklebot, they kissed one another on each cheek and hugged for a little longer. They talked for a few seconds and promised each other to keep in touch very soon.
"Now I hate to cut short our introductions but we must get going," McGonagall stated decisively. "There is no one in the castle other than the house elves and so this is our only chance. I have only done this once before and that was when the Sorcerer's stone was here. Back then I was hesitant with having Hagrid know what was hidden, but Dumbledore trusted him so I reluctantly dropped the subject of his dependability. This time around I feel we have better chances of keeping it hidden."
"I agree," replied Kingsley. "Where is it, Hermione?"
Hermione reached into her shirt and pulled out her Time-Turner, running her fingers over the engraving one last time. She had become partial to the necklace capable of time travel, but she knew what was needed to be done. With a heavy heart she dropped the necklace into Kingsley's outstretched hand and parted ways with it.
Talking amongst themselves, they walked out the door and it slowly shut on its own accord; the clicking of the lock signaling their departure. With no one left to eavesdrop on, the inhabitants of the portraits turned their attention back to their daily routine of sleeping soundly against their frames and walking in and out of portraits throughout the castle.