Working Title: Ashputtle
Author: Kail Ceannai
Rating:K+
Working Summary: Every now and then, a stairway would move in an unpredictable manner; it was on one of these rare occasions that Hermione found was racing down to the dungeons.
Disclaimer:Based on stories, backgrounds, places, concepts, and characters that are originally of JK Rowling's imagination.
Chapter Two: Unlikely Feedback
A groan indicated to Madam Pomfrey that her patient was regaining consciousness. Hurrying over, she began to tut, "Falling down the staircase in such a manner! You're lucky that you wound up with only a broken arm. Now, the diagnostic indicated nothing more than bruises; it's none to reliable with head trauma though. Tell me how you're feeling."
Hermione opened her eyes, wincing at the brightness of the room. "I'm sore all over, particularly my right arm. My eyes hurt. My ears are ringing and your voice is a bit muffled," she listed.
The matron frowned at this. "Hrm, well, after so many hours there shouldn't be any ringing. You're big enough that such a tumble couldn't do great damage if you lived through it, but you'll have to go to St. Mungo's just in case," she sighed. "Now just tell me who you are and how to contact your guardians and well transfer you right over."
The request startled Hermione. "What?" She forced her eyes to focused only to be met with the image of a hovering, and significantly younger Madam Pomfrey. "Wait. What's going on?" A headache was beginning to set it. Hermione rested her cool hand on her forehead, trying to extract an explanation as to what was happening.
Madam Pomfrey's frown deepened. Her patient was obviously confused and distressed. There was no time to seek the answers she needed, so the paper work would just have to sort itself out later. Walking over to the fireplace she threw in a small pinch of powder.
"St Mungo's emergency," a voice simply stated.
"I'm porting over with a girl, roughly sixteen years old, unknown name, unknown family, suffered a stair tumble, unconscious for about four hours, recently awakened with ringing and muffled ears and confusion."
"Port to room five," the voice responded and the connection broke.
Madam Pomfrey spoke to someone Hermione was unable to see. "Inform Headmaster Dumbledore," her voice stern. With a wave of Pomfrey's wand straps tied Hermione to the bed, gripping a strap the nurse's voice commanded "Port to room five. Activate."
The hospital bed shook and with a bit of shaking appeared in a very white, very sterile feeling room. Immediately voices began to chatter. The vertigo of the suddenly set in and the room began to spin around erratically. Hermione caught something about a repaired broken arm, tumbling stairs, and several spells and chants that she did not recognize. Yes, the voices with unseen faces concluded, the girl did have a mild concussion. Nothing much to worry about though and something a quick potion and a good long rest would fix any damage there was. They would like to keep her under watch for the night though just in case something was wrong.
"Here, drink this." A young healer commanded as he pressed a potions bottle to Hermione's lips. The liquid was oddly grape flavored. She strained to voice her observation when she found her eyes growing heavy and her vision blurring as she was forced to succumb to sleep.
When Hermione awoke she felt refreshed and pain-free. She was in a hospital room in St. Mungo's. A small potted daisy broke up the monotony of the white walls and white bed linens. Hermione immediately began tracing her mind to determine what happened. Last, grape flavored potions. What could that have been? She couldn't think of any potions requiring grapes, raisins, or wine. Obviously it had been a healing potion for some sort of head trauma. No matter, that could be researched later. Ok. Head trauma, St Mungo's, Hogwarts Hospital, Madam Pomfrey. Madam Pomfrey had not recognized Hermione. Had something happened to her face? Hermione's hands flew up to her face. That was definitely her nose, her cheeks, her ears. Where was a mirror? Hermione sat up in bed.
A lime-green clad wizard interrupted Hermione's assessment. "Oh good, you're up. Perhaps you can give us some clue as to what caused your tumble? We had a good time trying to figure out which floor to put you on. Its rare we ever get anyone with something so mundane as a fall."
His comments begged Hermione to ask, "And which floor did you decide?"
"It was concluded that as they were enchanted staircases, that you belong on the first. My money's hoping there's a magical creature involved." He looked hopeful. With a few waves of his wand he began to perform several diagnostic spells.
"I'm sorry, Mr. . .?"
"Weird," he mumbled.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Weird, but I don't know what happened." She furrowed her brow as she sought to confirm the answer. Racing towards potions, missing the staircase, and then an invisible wall? That couldn't be right. "I only remember running into a, a wall of sorts."
"No, my surname is Wiblin," he looked apologetic. "I'm just getting some unlikely feedback from your diagnostic. I'll be right back," he excused himself leaving Hermione to wonder what was happening.
He soon returned with a much older woman also clad in lime-green. She chanted a spell which produced a series of charts and diagrams on a nearby wall. The woman scowled. "Wiblin! How many times must I tell you trainees? Read the charts first! It says right here," she jabbed her wand at the wall for emphasis, "to not run any diagnostic and summon Healer Jewkes immediately!" The woman sighed. "It's just as well. Hurry up, go summon Dumbledore and Jorkins."
The woman turned her attention to Hermione and once again began performing the same spells Wilburn had. "Don't you worry, Miss, everything is going to be just fine. We just have a bit of a mystery on our hands. Nothing that Headmaster Dumbledore and Unspeakable Jorkins can't work out, I'm sure."
Author's Notes:
Sigh. I had two typos in the previously released chapter. Obviously, this isn't beta'd. Whereas my one-shots which are exercises in writing, this is being written for the sake of rattling the synapses in my brain. Similarly, while I do have a plot in mind for this story, I'm allowing it to go where it will. I am not making any attempt to align days, dates, or the alignment of the stars. The title may change if the plot changes significantly.
Sigh. I just feel silly for knocking Hermione unconscious twice in fewer than a thousand words. Poor girl, it just doesn't seem right.
This chapter broke off at a slightly odd place. I'm trying to keep chapters even by measuring them at about 1000 words. That makes for short chapters, but the precedent was set by the first chapter. It drives me nuts when an author's chapters can vary between 1000 and 5000 words.
The current title used for this story, "Ashputtle" is the same used for the Brothers Grimm version of Cinderella.
An author's shout out goes to XxStarJumperxX.