But wait... there's more!

Hermione sat in the kitchen of Grimmauld face with a hot cup of tea and a blanket around her shoulders. Sirius and Mr. Weasley were standing there in varied states of shock, their eyes betraying their disbelief to Hermione's tale. Mrs. Weasley was sitting to the side, rubbing Hermione's shoulder, and Harry and Ron sat there with expressionless faces.

Sirius sighed. "A magic wardrobe that took you to a place called… what, exactly?"

Hermione wanted to scream. "Narnia. It's a magic land ruled by the High Kings and Queen's. They're my friends." Her voice cracked as she thought of Lucy and Edmund, two of her best friends that she'd left behind by her curiousness. She looked back up at Sirius. "They're guided by Aslan."

"Aslan, who is he?" Sirius asked, deciding he would humor her.

"A lion… he… I don't know how to describe him, Sirius," Hermione huffed. "I never met him. But Lucy and Edmund had! A long time ago, back when the White Witch still ruled Narnia in a hundred years of winter. I was sent there by Aslan to help them found their country, to guide them, and to become an advisor. And then… we went for a ride and I fell back through the wardrobe."

Mrs. Weasley squeezed her shoulder. "I think you must've had a dream Hermione. You must've fallen asleep in the wardrobe and then fell out. You can't fit an entire country in a wardrobe, not even with magic."

Hermione scowled. "It wasn't in the wardrobe. The wardrobe led to it! And it wasn't a dream!" Hermione touched her jeans gingerly, as if hoping for the beautiful lilac dress would be there instead. Her hair was back in its ponytail, the woven flowers from it gone, and she was fifteen again. She was a child with the mind of a woman who'd lived for three decades. She wanted to throw her tea and scream, to cry and yell and demand that she be taken back to her home.

But they all frowned sadly at her, the girl who'd dreamed she was in a magical country that was inside a wardrobe. Hermione straightened, said she'd be back, and ran up to the wardrobe. There was her satchel and she snatched it up and looked at the golden rose, her one gift, and smiled. It was proof. When she arrived in the kitchen, she slammed her satchel on the table and took out the rose. She huffed.

"It was a gift from…" she paused. A gift from who? One of the kings? Edmund? King Edmund? A friend? What did she say? "It was a gift from King Edmund, a friend of mine."

The golden rose shimmered oddly out of place in Grimmauld Place, almost glinting off of nonexistent light. "I returned to how I was when I left. The clothes I wore were gone, and my hair returned to as it was when I left to go find you Mrs. Weasley. But I didn't leave to find you with a satchel, I know you've never seen this before." She pulled out the books, all written in Narnian and a few in English, and quill from a Bird of the Morning. It had been a gift from the Star Hermione had become so well acquainted with.

"I owned these," she said, and picked up the first book, "Native Flowers and Plants from Narnia." Another book. "The First Colonies of the Telmarines." She put that one down and picked up another. "The Last Sea and the Eastern Islands. I don't know what you want me to say or do. But if this isn't inexplicit proof of something, at least, then I don't know what is."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed to share a glance.

"We'll call in Dumbledore, at least. He should know about this," Mr. Weasley decided. "For now I suppose we should all just relax. It's been an exciting day."

Try years, Hermione thought sourly, but sipped her tea instead. Everyone sort of gave her pitying looks and dispersed and so she was sitting alone in the kitchen staring at the books and her rose. She gingerly picked it up and twisted it around in her hand. Edmund never had told her how he'd found it or gotten it and had only offered it with a small knowing smile and a picnic out on the beach. They'd gone swimming when he'd returned from the Islands, and Hermione and he had spent a pleasant afternoon under the careful, giddy watch of the Merpeople. Hermione remembered the afternoon fondly but her heart grew heavy. She held the rose close to her chest and closed her eyes.

When Ginny came in later and asked if she wanted to help with some homework, Hermione's eyes were steeled and her face held no feeling.

She figured Ginny knew, but Hermione still went at night when the house was sleeping to go sit in front of the wardrobe and wait for it to open. Dumbledore had found nothing wrong with it, but said it did hold traces of old, ancient magic. He said that it must've induced dreams within her, but the books he could not explain. But Hermione knew it wasn't all a dream, she knew it was not something conjured up by an old wardrobe. It was real. She held the rose tightly in her hands. She still waited for the day she'd feel the heat from it, that she'd see Cair Paravel and the day she'd walk in the Narnian woods and feel the grass under her feet. She missed her dresses and the flowers she'd wear in her hair and the sound of the beach in the morning when she'd wake. She missed the feeling of comfort, of knowing, she'd feel when she heard Aslan's name.

She gripped the rose tighter.

"Why did you send me back?" she asked out loud. "Why did you make me return? You gave me life and then you took it away. How, Aslan?"

But the wardrobe did not answer and it remained steadfastly closed. It had been almost two months and soon they would be returning to Hogwarts for another year. Hermione wasn't sure she could bare being away from it all. She knew she'd have to return to this life eventually, but she didn't feel like it. It wasn't hers anymore. She'd lived a new one, a better one, and she desperately wanted to make it all work but the feeling of loneliness still gripped her heart. No one here understood how it felt to grow up and then return to being a child. She wasn't even sure she could grasp it herself.

Her body felt wrong. It felt too young and too small. It felt inexperienced. Hermione had always preferred to be with adults because she could understand them and they could understand her but now she felt so out of place with everyone she was with.

"I just don't understand," Hermione said to the wardrobe again.

It remained silent.

Several long days later and it was the last day before returning to Hogwarts, there was an Order meeting, but Hermione had opted to stay by her wardrobe, not believing it would ever open again for her. Harry and Ron had joined her for a bit before the meeting, but both of them decided that they'd rather listen in on the Order meeting. Ginny was sitting with her now, hand on Hermione's knee.

"You never really have told me much about it," Ginny said. "I mean, you have the books, but you never talked about it."

Hermione glanced over at Ginny, painfully reminding her of Lucy. "You believe it was real? I know no one else does. Dumbledore said it was old powerful magic. I'm surprised it's still here."

"Well," Ginny said, leaning back on her elbows, "it really didn't do anything bad, did it? I mean, it didn't harm you, really, and so I think they don't see it was a threat given that they know what it does now. Or what they think it does. Did you really live in a castle with Kings and Queens?"

Hermione smiled. "I did. It was called Cair Paravel. It was on a cliff and it overlooked the sea. I woke up every morning to the sound of the ocean and when I opened the windows I'd feel the breeze. The castle had beautiful stone and mosaics and the columns were painted and the library Ginny! Oh, I wish you could see it! It was the biggest library I'd ever seen. I had this dress, it was purple, and it had beads up and down here. It was beautiful," she said, and then paused. "Lucy gave me her old dresses for a while. It was so nice of her. I was a little smaller than her when I came, and I was a little younger. She was still so nice to me."

Ginny grinned. "Lucy was one of the Queens, yeah?"

Hermione nodded, thinking back. "They were siblings. Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. I was closer to Edmund and Lucy, but Susan and I loved to talk books and philosophy and logic. We played chess. It wasn't as fun as wizard chess and we'd use Edmund's set, but it was still a lot of fun. I was Peter's advisor though, all of theirs, but mostly his. And I was the city planner for the town that went around the castle." She smiled at the memory of Lucy admonishing her for being rude.

"Did you like Edmund? You said the rose was a gift from him," Ginny asked, her voice small.

There was a brief hesitation but Hermione nodded. "Yes. He went out to the Eastern Islands and gave me this rose as a gift. We were… good friends. Close."

"Close?"

Hermione hid her grin. "Close. I trust Edmund with my life."

Gunny smiled shyly, turning her head to look back at the wardrobe. It happened suddenly. There was a rush of hot summer air in that attic, and the right door of the wardrobe opened just a little bit. There was the hint of a voice, a deep resonating powerful voice that coated Hermione and Ginny in chills despite the warmth. Hermione quickly stood up, picking up her old satchel.

"Aslan," she whispered. She reached for the door.

Ginny held her wrist. "Hermione—."

"I have to go!" Hermione snapped. "I have to go home! They need me! Narnia needs me, and Edmund! Aslan needs me!"

"Mum!" Ginny yelled. Her hand twitched for her wand. Hermione yelled the disarming spell, flicking Ginny's wand across the room, just as the door burst open. Dumbledore and Sirius stood there, wands drawn. Behind them was Snape, his brow furrowed but looking otherwise disinterested.

"Miss Granger, there's nothing there," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Yes, there is," she snapped. Her hand gripped the door of the wardrobe. She could feel the heat. The pounding in her head increased.

"It was all a dream induced by the wardrobe. It is cursed, Miss Granger. It makes you believe things, like living in another world," Dumbledore continued, his voice soft. "It was never real. Aslan does not exist."

Hermione held on to her wand tighter. "Aslan is calling me, Professor."

She swung the door open and jumped inside. She pushed past the muggle coats and the sensation of falling overtook her and she found herself again lying in the wood by the lamppost. There was no lull of wardrobe magic clouding her mind and she pulled herself up and laughed and cried. Beyond the clearing the air was warm and the sun held itself high in the sky. She was older again, by some miracle, and she was in her old lilac dress, and her hair was woven into flowers.

And a familiar voice asked, "Hermione?"

She smiled and held her arms open. She was home again.

"Dearest Daughter. I knew you would not be long in coming to me. Joy shall be yours."

-Aslan, C.S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy

Fin. (Or not?)

Dedicated to AlyssPotter