Disclaimer: If I owned the Odyssey, I'd be dead. If I were J.K. Rowling, I'd be a millionare. Since I'm not either, well... just read!

'So saying he turned the horses back through the thick of the battle, and with a cry that rent the air the Trojans and Hector rained their darts after them. Hector shouted to him and said, "Son of Tydeus, the Danaans have done you honour hitherto as regards your place at table, the meals they give you, and the filling of your cup with wine. Hence-forth they will despise you, for you are become no better than a woman. Be off, girl and coward that you are, you shall not scale our walls through any flinching upon my part; neither shall you carry off our wives in your ships, for I shall kill you with my own hand."

'The son of Tydeus was in two minds whether or no to turn his horses round again and fight him. Thrice did he doubt, and thrice did Jove thunder from the heights of Ida...'

Hermionie Granger was so wrapped up in the battle of Troy, as told by Homer in the Iliad, that she did not notice exactly how hard, or how fast she was petting her ginger cat, Crookshanks. The cat, however, made it known to his master - Oh, how he loathed that word! - that she had better get her nose out of that stupid book and Pay More Attention To Your Cat Before You Kill It.

"...in token to the Trojans that he would turn the battle in their favour. Hector then shouted to them and said - OW! Crookshanks, that was my arm!" Hermionie's attention snapped from her book to her wounded limb: The cat had had enough of her running monologue of the Trojan War, which, to Crookshanks, was also being reenacted by Hermionie, upon himself.

Hermionie put down the book - after, of course, marking page 94 with a sheet of parchment from her desk - and looked at her arm. It was bleeding a bit - scratched, not bitten. Even now, the initial flair of pain was vanishing. Easily taken care of. What was bugging the witch was: Why did Crookshanks do that? She stood, her temper flaring the slightest bit. Her cat bounded off her lap and onto the floor a bit noisily, tail twitching in irritation. Why should he be irritated? I'm the one who got hurt! Hermionie huffed angrily.

She stalked out of her room, slammed the door behind her, and headed down the hallway to the bathroom. Men, the most idiotic life forms on the planet... And my whole summer vacation has been like this. The whole ruddy vacation, only Crookshanks and I, no wonder we're loosing our tempers. Hermionie was so deep in her thoughts, in fact, that she didn't realize she was nearly at her parent's door. Just before she passed in sight of the open door, she forced herself to calm down, slow down, and relax. She slipped by, unnoticed by her mother, who was busily typing up an article on the uses of chlorine in the every day home. Closing in on what little distance remained between herself and the bathroom, Hermionie relaxed a bit. The little of the remaining sting of the cuts had vanished, replaced by the dull throb of her blood.

As she gently turned the knob and swung the door open, her mind resumed the set it had been in before passing her parent's room. Summer break. Turn on the hot water. Get a towel from the cabinet under the sink. Her summer break had been completely uneventful. A bit boring, actually. Make sure the water is warm. Good, it is. Put that cloth under the water. The library in her house had been her summer project. After homework, of course. Turn the water off, now. Or better yet, just turn it on slightly. That way it'll stay warm. Put your arm over the sink. The library had been conquered a month into the holidays. This left only the public library, two blocks down.

A small yelp escaped her lips as the cloth touched her wounds. She muffed it immediately, and bit her lip as to prevent another outburst. The sudden flare in her arm was a bit more than she could take, especially since she wasn't thinking about what she was doing. "Now you know," she scolded herself quietly.

"'Mionie, you alright?" Mrs. Granger called from her room. Her voice was a bit faint, considering the distance between her room and the bathroom, not to mention the closed doors in between.

Hermionie opened the door to the bathroom, leaned her head out into the hall, and said, "Yes, mum, just... dropped..." She glanced around for something to name. Her eyes fell on her hair dryer. "...the hair dryer."

There was a slight pause. "Why were you picking up the hair dryer? You haven't taken a shower yet today." Mrs. Granger's head appeared in the hall.

Thinking quickly, Hermionie hid all but her face behind the door, so her body couldn't be seen. 'Dang, she's good,' she thought to herself; aloud, she said: "I was just about to. Take a shower. I wanted to move the hair dryer. So it wouldn't get wet. And I needed to plug it in. So... I wouldn't get shocked. Because, after I got out of the shower, I'd be wet. And if I plugged the dryer in, while I was wet, then I'd get... electrocuted." She hesitated, and barely restrained herself from saying, "...Yeah." at the end. It sounded incredibly fake to her own ears, just a second after she said it.

Apparently, Mrs. Granger thought it was naught more than an excuse, as well. Still, she nodded, and withdrew her head from Hermionie's sight. That was too close, thought the girl, relieved. However, the girl's conscience would not let her just leave the excuse at that. Sighing, Hermionie started the hot water running in the shower. She carefully removed her shirt, trying to skirt around her still-tender arm wounds, and then began taking off all of her other clothes as well.

After checking the temprature, the bushy-haired girl stepped into the tub and closed the curtain. "Bloody hell..." was the only exclimation that came to mind as the hot water ran over her right arm. Quickly lifting that limb out of the stream of water, she began the process of washing her thick tresses.

The relaxing jets coming from the shower head calmed her, allowed her thoughts to browse to things other than her present actions. Drifting lazily across different books she had read, summer days that were warm and sunny, cool nights that had been spent on the back patio with a cup of tea and a letter, usually from Ginny... or Ron... or Harry...

Further back still did her thinking draw her, until she was at the end of term, nearly two months ago now. It seemed so long ago... The summer had spanned longer than it really was, even in her logical mind. Was it only two months ago, that she and Harry had gone back in time, as odd as it may sound.

Really, the whole situation was odd. It all started nearly a year ago, with Sirius Black, mass murderer, had escaped from Azkaban prison, the most heavily guarded prison in the wizarding world. Harry had blown up his aunt to the size of a... oh, what did Harry say? Hmm... he didn't. Well, he blew his aunt up very large. After that he had run away on the Knight Bus, where he learned of Sirius Black's escape, then met the Minister of Magic himself. He then stayed at the Leaky Cauldron for two weeks, along with herself and the Weasly family. It was then Harry heard (by eavesdropping) that Sirius Black was looking for him.

And that was all before school started.

Rampaging hippogriffs, DADA professers who were really his dad's best mates, boggarts, escapees breaking into the castle, fleeing portraits, mysterious Christmas presents, dementors, one of his best mates taking double classes - seemingly being in two places at once -, hippogriff trials, evil Potions professors subbing for kindly DADA teachers, divination, predictions, prophecies, Hogsmede visits, mischeif, magical talking maps, Hermionie punching Malfoy, pet rats who were really Animagi, werewolves, violent trees, secret passageways, shreiking shacks, the Grim, Godfathers, a heck of a lot more dementors, Patroni, cats, rats, dogs, stags, helping convicts escape from the ministry... all in two terms.

Hermionie had never totaled the amount of things that had happened in her head before. Quite literally, she was staggered. Nearly slipped on the tile floor of the shower. She caught herself just in time, however; unfortunately, her right arm fell under the jet of water, and the pain came back. However, it wasn't as bad as she thought it would have been. In a moment or so, she was able to keep her arm under without too much pain; she set about washing the rest of her body.

The scent of lavender filled the air as she un-capped the body wash. It relaxed her just as much as the water had, and soon her thoughts were moving backwards again.

She thought of the cool forest as she and Harry waited for themselves to come back out of the Shreiking Shack; how peaceful it had been, even with the threat of Dementors so nearby. Fear of the werewolf that was soon to come shook the girl even now, two months in the future. And yet, with her closest friend next to her, things hadn't seemed so bad. If only Ron had been there on the other side of her...

Hermionie shook her head. Harry first. As she let her thoughts run across that thread of thought, she realized just how lonely Harry must feel right now. He had brightened so much when he came out of the Shack and began speaking with his Godfather, Sirius. Later, Hermionie realized that the boy had been offered to move out of his lousy Aunt Petunia's house and in with the man who was closest to his parents. No wonder he looked so heartbroken afterwards... and now, still with those awful Muggles...

"Hermionie!" The girl jerked and nearly slipped again, before catching herself on the wall. She realized that she was done with her shower; she turned off the tap. "There's an owl here waiting for you!" Hermionie looked up towards the door at that; who would be sending letters to her? Was it Harry? Ginny? Ron?

Dressing in the clothes she was wearing before in her excitement to see who the letter was from, the bathroom was empty in less than a minute. Hermionie was hopping down the hallway, towel draped over her shoulders in an attempt to keep her shirt dry, while putting on a sock and holding a hair brush in her teeth.

Rebellious sock on her foot, she took the brush out of her mouth and called out, "Who's it from?" There was a slight pause; then her mum's voice rang out from the kitchen.

"I'm not sure if it's an owl at all - looks more like a furry tennis ball. And it keeps running - Ow! - into me..." Rounding the corner, treading on soft carpet now, and running a brush through her hair, the girl barely had enough time to think, let alone duck, as a small grey... thingummy... hit her in the forehead. It flopped down on the floor at her feet, and Hermionie reeled backwards, rubbing her head.

"What the... What is it?" As soon as she wasn't seeing little black specks anymore, Hermionie leaned down to inspect the furry creature. Her mother came over and squatted down next to her.

"I'm... not sure. Is it..." her mum trailed off.

"Dead? I don't think so." There was a slight pause, in which they both stared avidly at the... thing. After a moment, Hermionie shook her head and pointed. "No. It's alive. It's chest is moving." With that, she knelt down, leaned back a bit, and poked it.

It was warm, soft, and a bit fuzzy. She ventured another finger on the thing and found the same result. It stirred a bit, moved, then seemed to sit up. There - it was definately an owl. Tiny, but an owl none-the-less. Hermionie stated so for her mother.

"Are you OK, 'Mionie?" her mother asked, concerned. Hermionie just nodded, all of her attention either on the bird (checking to make sure it was really all right) or wondering whose the owl belonged to. She picked it up, held it at eye level, and turned it so that she could see its legs. There, just barely visible, was a small note tied by a peice of string. Smiling slightly, Hermionie realized, with great triumph, that the owl must be Ron's new pet - the one Sirius sent him. How could she have forgotten the little thing?

"Here, mum, I know whose it is. I'll take him into my room and feed him and such - I have a couple of owl treats that I give Hedwig when she comes by." With that, Hermionie walked out of the room, leaving a very confused person behind her.

The second Hermionie opened the door, all became mass chaos. She was immediately attacked by one Crookshanks, who latched onto her shirt with sharp claws. This, in turn, made her let go of Ron's owl. The owl immediately took off, into the room, and Crookshanks paused in his punishing Hermionie for locking him in her room long enough to watch the owl. The cat lept off of Hermionie, jumped onto the desk (spilling her new bottle of ink), tore over the book shelf (leaving paw prints all over her homework), and lept off her dresser onto the ceiling fan where Ron's owl had decided to inhabit for the moment.

The cat flopped onto Hermionie's bed, screeched, and got himself tangled in pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals as he thrashed about. The owl took off, screeched, and ran into the door (which Hermionie had closed as all of this started). Hermionie winced, picked up the owl and held him in one hand, and examined him. Still alive.

She set the unconcious animal on her dresser, then set about detangeling Crookshanks. It was a difficult task, but soon she was clutching the furry critter and rocking him. Crookshanks eventually settled, though he still switched his tail angrily back and forth.

"Well, that was fun, wasn't it?"

A/N: Well, after a long break, Lady Amara lives again! I'm working with hobbits01 to bring you another person's POV on the Goblet of Fire. Hope to have the next chapter up soon! Read and review! Questions? Comments, concerns, they're all excepted... flames are not liked very much. Used to slowly roast Voldie and Peter over an open fire. Nice and crisp.