As the crowd of children around Jean grew, many of them shouted at her: "Where have you been?", "Did you really fly on a dragon?", "Is it true you've been hunting down dementors?", "I heard you were working in the Department of Mysteries!", and many more.
"Enough! Alright now, if you would all calm down for a moment I will sort out the whole situation." Some of them pretended to go back to what they had been doing before she came in while watching out of the corner of their eyes, but the vast majority stood before her with barely contained glee. "Now, I think there has been some confusion." She knelt down and looked directly at the boys. "I told you yesterday. I am not Hermione Granger. I am Jean Wilkinson."
Most of the other students began to grumble and walk away. One girl even told her friend, "I knew it wasn't her. Hermione Granger is much prettier." Another kid shoved the boys, "Nice going! Second day and you pull a stunt like this."
James looked around at the other students that still lingered around. "But she is!" He then pulled out the worn parchment she knew to be the map and focused his attention back on Jean. "Look! I solemnly swear I am up to no good." He unfolded it until he found the section he wanted. He thrust it into Jean's hands while enthusiastically pointed at a spot on the map. "It says Hermione Granger."
She stood up and examined the map. She could see the room labeled "Gryffindor Common Room." Inside were students' names. She looked around for place markers to read it properly. Sure, enough where she stood there were four dots indicating James Potter, Fred Weasley, Dominique Weasley, and Hermione Granger. No Jean Wilkinson.
"James, this is just a trick. It doesn't prove anything."
"No! The map never lies. My father has told me the stories loads of times. The map never lies."
Jean wasn't intent on arguing with an 11-year-old boy. So, she examined the map closer looking for some indicators as to why it would provide the wrong information.
"This is why we needed you to leave the Room of Requirement. It is the only place in the castle not on the map." Fred told her.
James reached up and placed his hand on hers. "I know it's you. My sister was right. You're exactly how they describe you."
Jean raised an eyebrow at him. "James, I am not trying to be mean, but I am not who you think I am."
James was prepared to protest again but Dominique interrupted. "Ok, let's say this, if we can ask you a few questions, we'll figure out which of us right?"
She looked at all of their faces skeptically. "What exactly will that prove?"
Fred responded, "Well, we will write down what Hermione Granger would say, and we'll see if it matches."
She mulled it over in her mind, but really what did she have to lose? "Okay." She paused. "Only if I can ask you questions in return." The three children nodded enthusiastically.
They turned away from her in a huddle, before scribbling something done on spare parchment. After a moment, they turned back around. Dominique and James nodded at Fred indicating he would ask. "When you have problem, where is the first place you go?"
Jean was more confused than anything else. "What?"
"Where do you go when you have a problem?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"One Hermione Granger would know the answer to."
"The internet?"
The children seemed disappointed with this answer and whispered amongst themselves. James shook his head at what the others said. "It's a Muggle thing." She heard him say before he directed another question to her. "What if you can't get to the internet?"
"I don't know…the library?" They seemed much happier as they showed her their matching answer.
James opened his mouth to ask another question, but Jean held up her hand to stop him.
"My turn. This…this cloak. It really makes you invisible? To everyone?" They all nodded eagerly. "And it works through…magic?" They smiled back at her nodding again. She didn't know what to make of it and simply pulled it back from James' grasp and ran her hands over the silky fabric.
The children whispered amongst themselves again. Fred stepped forward, "So, how did you feel about school?"
She looked up and raised an eyebrow at them. "In general? I would say that I rather enjoyed school."
The boy flipped their parchment over, "Loves it, can't get enough."
She rolled her eyes, "That doesn't prove anything. You said Dominique saw me with Mr. Zabini. How do you know him?"
"Mr. Zabini? He works at the Ministry with Uncle Percy." Dominique responded first.
"And he is friends with Malfoy." Fred piped in.
"Malfoy? Is that a person then?" She thought back to what Blaise had said in the library.
"Yes, he is the potions master here." Dominique explained.
"The room that you took me from, is it his?"
All three looked confused. "No, the Room of Requirement doesn't belong to anyone." James stated.
"Next question," Fred spoke. "What is your patronus?"
"My what?"
Dominique smacked Fred on the back of the head. "She doesn't remember that magic is real, how would she even know what a patronus is?"
Fred's face flushed. "Oh yeah…"
"So you all truly believe magic is real?" She asked them. They all nodded. She paused. Did she? She wasn't sure anymore. Some of the things she had seen the day before could be explained as tricks and illusions. Except for how she got home last night, today's ball of fire, her transportation by fireplace and the cloak. How could she explain any of that? Magic…maybe…
"Right. Well…can all of you do magic?"
James walked forward. "I can do loads of magic already."
Dominique rolled her eyes. Fred pushed James in the back and laughed, "Yeah the same way he can also drive a car and has never fallen off his broom."
James glared at his cousins. Jean suppressed a smile. "So hypothetically, some people could create a fire in their hands that wouldn't burn them?" She asked them.
"Sure, there are spells for that." Fred responded.
She nodded thinking about her experience at the pub. While she thought it over, she told them they could ask their next question. She heard them whispering amongst themselves again. After a few moments though she realized they still hadn't said anything. When she looked at them, she realized they were all trying to get the other to ask the question. Finally, Dominique stepped forward. "Do you have a scar on your arm? There?" She said pointing briefly.
Jean placed her hand over the mark she knew was hidden under the sleeve of her shirt. "Did you see it yesterday?"
All three stepped forward. "So, you do?"
"Answer the question." She told them flatly.
Dominique looked a little hurt by the tone in her voice, "No, you had your coat on the whole time."
Jean realized they had no reason to lie to her. She rubbed her arm. Taking a deep breath, she rolled up her sleeve. Each of the children flinched at the sight of it. Dominique reached a hand out before she froze and looked up into Jean's eyes questioning. Jean nodded. Dominique reached out and traced the scar, as if to feel that it was real. She quickly stepped back and nodded to the boys. There was no need to confirm their answer.
Dominique seemed to have an epiphany. "Oh! I'll be right back." She raced back up the stairs. Fred and James stood there and stared at her.
"Bloody hell." Fred said and then he walked over to flop down into one of the armchairs.
She considered the implications that they knew about her scar. It was an unusual scar that often unnerved people around her. She had grown used to it over the years and the accompanying stares. She was unsure why it the lines at times looked like letters, mudblood.
Dominique came bounding down the stairs waving something in the air. When she finally got down to the bottom of the stairs she handed it to Jean. It was a photograph. That was moving. It appeared to be taken a Christmas morning around the tree with the wrapping paper sprinkled throughout. Jean studied it slowly. The boys also crowded around. James smiled watching the people in the photograph.
Fred looked over at Dominique, "You brought this with you?"
Dominque shrugged, "Yeah, I nicked it from my dad's study. He never looks at any more. Probably won't even realize it's gone."
While there were many people in the frame, Jean traced her finger of the image of figure who sat on the floor in front of the Christmas tree. A young woman bounced a baby with black hair in her lap. Just before the animation restarted, she turned towards the camera with the baby to wave. But the remarkable thing was not only the strong resemblance to Jean, but that when she turned to the camera, ever so slightly, you could see the word 'mudblood' on the inside of her forearm.
Were they right? Could they be right?
Even if the resemblance could be ignored, how could she explain the scar? The way everyone had reacted in the past two days? If magic was real, how could she determine what was and wasn't real? Was the photo real? Was she going mad? Were the children being honest? Was anyone?
But she knew her life. There were no gaps. She grew up in London. Just after she finished university, she moved to live with her Aunt Monica and Uncle Wendell in Australia. Then two years ago she moved back England when she got her book deal. She had lived in her Oxford flat since then. Her parents had died when she was still in school. She always had trouble sustaining friendships for long periods of time. But she preferred to be alone. Right?
Harry had whispered obliviate last night. Had he done this to her? Was it possible that there was this other life that she had lived? Or did she have a twin out there that had the same scar? Was any of this real? Or was her life that she knew real? Was it possible they both were?
The pounding her head returned full force. Her breath escaped her. She began walking backwards. She saw them begin to look concerned but she could no longer process it all. She kept walking backwards. She looked back down at the cloak, the photo and the map still clutched in her hand with the name Hermione Granger moving further and further away from the names of James, Dominique, and Fred.
"I'm sorry." She said and before they had time to respond, she threw the cloak over herself and ran out through the portrait hole and down the hall. She didn't know where she was going, but she was just running. Running from her concerns, her thoughts, the events of the day, the hope in the children's eyes. She needed time to think, away from everything and everyone else.