By Artemis Teranika Ryann
Chapter One: All That's Left Of Yesterday.
Sitting in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express was a depressed girl with her nose stuck in 'Hogwarts: A History'. Her hair was bushy, but it had calmed down quite a bit. Her eyes were honey-brown, and her skin was clear, though a light dusting of freckles covered her nose. This girl was Hermione Granger, a Muggleborn Gryffindor in her last year. Hermione sighed, turning the pages of her book as if reading the words, but not even seeing them. Her thoughts were on her summer, and why she was depressed…
~*
"Hermione, dear?" Mrs. Granger called to her daughter.
"Yes, Mum?" Hermione replied, coming down the stairs to the lower level.
"There is someone here to see you." Mrs. Granger said nervously. Hermione raised her eyebrows, but followed her mother into the kitchen. Someone stood looking out the window, their back to her.
"May I help you?" Hermione asked politely. The man whirled around, almost startled, but Hermione had a feeling this man didn't surprise easily.
"Miss Granger?" Hermione nodded. "Miss Hermione Granger?"
"Yes, that is I."
"I am Conan Marsh, from the Health department of the Ministry of Magic." He paused. "Is there somewhere we can go to sit down and talk?"
"Of course, how foolish of me!" Mrs. Granger exclaimed. "Right this way." She led them to the Lounge Room. "Can I get you anything to drink?"
"No, I can do it. What would you like, Mrs. Granger, Miss Granger?"
"Um, just a tea." Mrs. Granger answered, taken slightly aback.
"A butterbeer, please." Hermione smiled.
Conan withdrew his wand from his sleeve and waved it. There stood a cup of tea and two butterbeers.
"Now, Miss Granger, I'll get straight to business." Conan took a sip from his butterbeer. "Please understand that I've never had to tell anyone this, and that this is one of the most difficult things to tell anyone… Miss Granger… you are suffering from Mugrote."
"Mugrote." Hermione stated numbly.
"Do you know what Mugrote is, Miss Granger?"
Hermione gave him a 'don't-insult-me' glare and recited the illness's symptoms as if there was a textbook in front of her.
"Mugrote, a fatal disease. This illness has only one cure, a Draught of Life, which is made using the wings of a Crarphin, one inch of one strand of unicorn tail hair, four Stunner Mushrooms, collected in the full moon, a lock of banshee hair and three drops of a Pureblood's blood, willingly given. As the Crarphin is now extinct, the Draught is difficult to make. It is not a contagious disease, and is very rare. The disease is found in a gland that all Magical Folk have inside them, but most Magical Folk never contract the disease, as the gland remains dormant through out the person's life. Unfortunately, some Magical Folk do get the disease, due to a ruptured gland. As the gland is very well protected, the gland will only become ruptured if the disease swells within it, splitting the skin of the gland and releasing the virus. The symptoms of Mugrote are: The victim grows weaker each day, until they cannot move. They develop flushes, going from hot to cold almost instantaneously. A cough, almost from the start of the disease. It starts off as a normal, 'I-have-a-cold' kind of cough, and then becomes a 'I-think-I'm-going-to-die' kind of cough. Rashes spread over the victim's body, blistering and making the skin scaly. There are other symptoms that vary with the victim. Eventually the victim dies in immeasurable pain, coughing up their life's-blood."
Mrs. Granger's eyes were wide in shock, her mouth open in horror. "Y-you do have the cure… don't you?"
Conan looked at her in sympathy. "I'm sorry. The Ministry did have a bottle… but the person sent to fetch it dropped it. The bottle smashed and the potion was lost." A look of dismay crossed Mrs. Granger's face. Hermione, on the other hand, was calm.
"Isn't Mugrote the result of Ministry experimentation." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yes. That is another reason I am here. The Ministry gives ten thousand galleons to the family of the victim if the Ministry cannot help. Also, I'm here to give Miss Granger a Draught of Painless Sleeping Death." He held a thin, twisting, elegant bottle out to Hermione.
Hermione hesitated, then took the bottle and placed it on the coffee table, very carefully.
"Thank you, Mr. Marsh. I will take this potion, but it is unlikely I will drink it. I would like to graduate. Now if you will excuse me."
Hermione left the room, leaving the bottle where it was…
~*
"Hermione!" A voice broke her concentration. She looked up, somewhat startled. Harry and Ron sat down in the seats opposite her
"Oh. Hello, Harry, Ron."
"My holidays were fine, thanks for asking." Ron said sarcastically.
Hermione forced a smile. She closed her book. "We need to talk. Can you get Ginny? Tell her it's urgent." Harry stood up, puzzled, but left for Ginny.
Ron tried to catch Hermione's eye, trying to find out what was wrong, but Hermione turned away, putting a bookmark in the book and tucking it away.
Ginny and Harry rejoined them, sitting down.
Hermione put up a silencing ward on the door, locking it the Muggle way. Harry and Ron exchanged confused glances.
"I don't want anyone else to know." Hermione muttered.
"What, are you pregnant?" Ron joked, trying to break the ice.
Hermione laughed humorlessly. "If only." Harry and Ginny exchanged alarmed glances.
"Just spit it out, Mione!" Ginny said impatiently.
Hermione cleared her throat. "Um… there's no easy way to tell you this… I'm –" A cough broke her sentence. Ginny frowned and patted her on the back. "Thanks, Gin. I'm dying." Hermione whispered bluntly. A stunned silence covered the compartment, then Ron started laughing.
"Good one, Mione. I almost believed you!"
Harry was watching Hermione's features. "I don't think that was a joke, Ron."
"It wasn't. I'm suffering from Mugrote."
"From what?" Harry asked, seriously.
"Mugrote. It's a fatal disease. I won't go into detail, but suffice to say that I could die anytime between the end of this month and by the time I'm twenty. No one with the disease has survived past that age."
"Sure they have!" Ginny said cheerfully. "Just send to the Ministry for the cure."
Hermione shook her head. "Lucius Malfoy smashed the only bottle they had. There is no cure for me."
"Couldn't they just remake it?" Ron asked.
"No. The potion needs parts of an extinct animal."
Ginny burst into tears and clutched Hermione to her like she was dying – which, ironically, she was. Hermione smoothed back Ginny's fiery hair, comforting the younger girl. "It's okay, Ginny. Everyone dies sooner or later. I'm just, well, going to die sooner, rather than later."
And as the train pulled up into Hogsmeade station, Hermione gathered her things and left the compartment last – savouring the last time she would probably see the compartment she'd seen twice every year for the last six years.