A/N: For prompt 602 of the Are You Crazy Enough to Do It Challenge: (word) philosophy. Word count: 559

Philosophy

Hermione's new surroundings were as different from her previous ones as they could be. She was in a small room piled high with books. Every inch of wall space was lined with bookshelves except for the space that had been left for the fireplace. A fire crackled in the grate, emitting warmth along with its dim orange light.

She found herself sitting at a long table littered with books, some in stacks and some lying open to certain well-worn pages. A scroll of parchment was partially unrolled in front of her, with her own handwriting scrawled across it. Some lines had been hastily scribbled out as if she'd thought better of them. Even the books had notes in their margins that were in her own hand, hinting that this wasn't a library she occupied.

It felt familiar, yet it didn't. The table in front of her was in a state much like her desk back home, but in London, she didn't have a room dedicated entirely to books like this one. There wasn't room for it in her small London flat, though she held out hope that she'd achieve it some day.

Taking a closer look at what this alternate version of herself had been writing, Hermione found herself in the middle of a philosophical argument of her own creation. It was a far cry from anything her real self had written before, and without the beginning of the treatise, she wasn't sure what the exact point she was trying to make was.

She wondered what this version of herself did for a living that she had time to write something such as this.

Though Hermione loved books and had her own admired philosopher or two, she'd never had enough passion for the discipline to actively seek out knowledge about it, especially when it came to wizarding philosophers.

Deciding there was nothing better to do, she picked up one of the books lying closest to her and took to reading about the theories of magic that some ancient woman had thought up and that must have still held some water in this Hermione's time, since she had chosen to liberally annotate the book.

It was fascinating, and Hermione found herself adding it to her mental "to read" list, hoping she could remember the title if she managed to make it back home.

The book made her have thoughts of her own, and though she couldn't know everything the alternate her had written already, she found herself scribbling down notes that might confuse or inspire her alternate self once they regained control of their body.

At least, she hoped they would regain control, that the alternate versions of herself got their lives back to normal once she was gone. She hated the thought that she might be ruining their lives. Her supermodel self might suffer a career blow from Hermione's own pathetic attempts at walking a runway.

Laying down her quill, she let her mind wander, trying to piece together how this could be happening to her. Perhaps it was nothing more than an elaborate hallucination brought on by a potion or hex. There was no doubting that she had a few enemies, and it was possible that one of them had chosen this method for attacking her.

Before she could come to a satisfactory explanation, the world transformed again.