"The human heart has hidden treasures, In secret kept, in silence sealed. The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures. Whose charms were broken if revealed."
Charlotte Brontë
II
Hermione awoke to the piercing sound of cries and screams that echoed through the quiet night. Startled, she opened her eyes to find Luna standing over her, her face etched with urgency, clutching a lantern and a bag tightly.
"Hermione, wake up! We must leave immediately!" Luna's voice trembled with fear.
Confusion clouded Hermione's groggy mind as she struggled to make sense of the situation. "What's happening?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
"There's been a terrible dragon attack in the nearby village," Luna explained, her tone filled with dread. "The villagers are pointing fingers at us, the magical folk, and they're coming here to burn us alive. We have to run, Hermione, we have to run for our lives!"
A surge of panic surged through the witch's veins as she absorbed Luna's words. Memories of the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts flooded her mind, where she had witnessed the terror of facing a dragon. She vividly recalled the fear she had felt for Harry as he confronted the Hungarian Horntail, the hours spent helping him prepare, and the overwhelming relief when he emerged victorious. Questions filled her mind as she wondered if the dragon responsible for the village attack was the same one or another, and what had provoked it to unleash such devastation.
With a sense of urgency, Hermione quickly rose from the bed and hastily dressed in one of the garments Luna had provided. The blue dress, adorned with delicate white lace and buttons, felt foreign against her skin, but time did not permit her to transfigure it into anything more comfortable. Gripping her wand tightly, she followed Luna through the dimly lit cottage.
As they hurriedly traversed the cabin, Hermione's eyes darted around the unfamiliar surroundings. A pang of sadness gripped her heart as she realized that she might never have the chance to see this place again.
Finally, they reached the back door, where Harry stood waiting, armed with a bow and arrow, and carrying a backpack. Cradled in his arms was Selena, her tear-streaked face buried in a flower.
"My love, thank goodness you're here," Luna exclaimed, rushing into Harry's embrace.
Concern etched on his face, Harry looked at Hermione and smiled. "Sister, it's a relief to see you again, even if only briefly," he greeted warmly.
Confusion washed over the witch as she attempted to correct him, to explain that she was not his sister, that she did not belong in this world.
"Hermione, please, listen to me," Harry implored, gripping her hand tightly. "You are my sister. You have always been my sister. You have our father's eyes and hair, and our mother's magic. I thought I had lost you all these years."
"No, Harry, you don't understand," Hermione protested, shaking her head. "I am not from here. I have to find my friends, complete my mission, and defeat Voldemort."
The young man furrowed his brow in confusion as he repeated the unfamiliar name. "Voldemort? Who is this Voldemort?"
"He is a dark wizard, the epitome of evil. He seeks my life and the lives of others like me. He aims to destroy everything good and beautiful," Hermione explained urgently.
Once again, Harry shook his head, a mixture of love and pity in his eyes. Her words did not convince him. She needed him more than ever, he was certain of that.
"Sister, you're not making any sense," he said gently. "There is no Voldemort, no other world. There is only this world, and we must fight to survive it together. We must escape those who hate us, fear us, and wish to kill us, just as they killed our parents."
Hermione gasped, her heart aching as she recalled Luna's brief account of Harry's past. The tragedy of never understanding his sister and mother's abilities, losing them when their neighbors set their home ablaze, and being raised by his godfather who warned him to stay away from witches, only to fall in love with Luna. Luna, who now rushed towards them, Selena clutched tightly in her arms, her wand raised, urgently urging them to flee.
"Harry, Hermione, hurry!" Luna cried, her eyes wide with fear. "They're approaching, they're approaching! We must go now!"
Without hesitation, Harry nodded and pulled Hermione along, refusing to release her hand. He needed his sister back, firmly believing that they were a family and should remain together. The young man implored her to escape with them, and the four of them sprinted into the dense forest.
Through the woods they ran, their footsteps pounding against the forest floor. They weaved amidst the towering trees, leaping over exposed roots, desperate to put distance between themselves and the enraged villagers.
The angry voices and flickering torches pursued them relentlessly, while the deafening roar and scorching flames of the dragon loomed ominously overhead. Cold sweat drenched their bodies as their hearts pounded in their chests, betraying their fear.
Their lives depended on their flight.
But then, disaster struck.
Selena stumbled, her small body tumbling to the ground. Hermione's eyes locked onto her, and she halted abruptly. Without a second thought, she dashed back to the girl's side, lifting her up with tenderness and concern.
"Are you alright, Selena?" her tone was gentle, laced with worry.
"I'm okay, Mione. I'm okay," the kid replied bravely, her voice tinged with an underlying fear.
A warm smile graced Hermione's face as she pulled Selena into a comforting embrace, cherishing the precious moment amidst the chaos that surrounded them.
Then, she looked up, and her breath caught in her throat.
The villagers.
They had caught up with them, encircling the fugitives with pitchforks, torches, and an overwhelming fury. Their eyes met the witches, and a cacophony of shrieks and curses erupted from their lips.
Fear gripped Hermione's heart as she swiftly raised her wand and cast a disillusionment spell on the little girl.
"Run, Selena, run!" Hermione's voice trembled with urgency. "Find Harry and Luna! They're waiting for you!"
"But Mione, what about you?" the child's eyes welled up with tears, her words filled with desperation. "I don't want to leave you!"
"I will be fine, my dear, I promise," Hermione lied, her voice strained. "But you must go now, before they catch you!"
Selena nodded, her small form invisible but vulnerable. With a heavy heart, she ran, the weight of the situation pressing upon her.
The villagers closed in on Hermione, denying her any chance of escape. One man swiftly bound her with ropes, while others jeered and mocked, their cruel words echoing in her ears. In a final act of humiliation, one of them snatched her wand from her grasp.
"Gotcha, you filthy witch!" the man with the ropes sneered, a twisted smile on his face.
"Look at her, trembling with fear!" the man with the torch taunted, his laughter ringing through the air.
Curiosity danced in the eyes of the man holding her wand as he waved it, only to find disappointment as nothing happened. He dropped the wand in frustration, cursing under his breath.
"Useless thing!" he spat, his contempt evident.
Heart pounding in her chest, Hermione pleaded for her captors to let her go. "Please, please, leave me alone," she said, her voice a desperate prayer in the face of impending danger.
The young witch felt an intense pain shooting through her arms as the two men mercilessly dragged her by the wrists. The clearing in the forest served as a chilling backdrop to the unfolding nightmare.
Desperate to resist, she fought with all her might, attempting to kick and scream, but her efforts were futile. Overpowered and silenced by a filthy cloth gag, her only solace was the muffled noises she managed to produce, hoping against hope that someone would hear her cries for help.
"Stop struggling, you filthy whore!" one of the men spat, tightening his grip on her arm. "You'll soon receive the punishment you deserve."
"What in the world do you think you're doing, you barbarians?"
Hermione managed to mutter, though her words came out garbled and distorted. She glared at the men, desperately willing them to see the burning fury in her eyes.
As she glanced around, her eyes fell upon the outskirts of a nearby village. Smoke lazily rose from the remains of some houses, casting an eerie glow against the darkening sky. The people who surrounded her held torches that flickered in the wind, illuminating their faces that showed fear and anger. They pointed at her and yelled, their voices cutting through the air like knives: "witch," "dragon," "sacrifice."
"Look at her, the evil one!" an old woman shrieked, shaking her fist in Hermione's direction. "She's the reason the dragon has come upon us!"
"She must pay for her crimes with her blood!" a man interjected, brandishing a menacing knife. "She must be offered to the beast to appease its wrath!"
In her thoughts, Hermione desperately clung to Luna's last words before they were separated. A dragon attack had ravaged the nearby village, and the blame had fallen on those with magical abilities. The villagers, fueled by their fear and anger, had set out to burn them all. Luna, Harry, and Selena had managed to escape, but she had been caught.
Rendered unconscious, she had been forcefully taken away.
"Luna, Harry, Selena… where are you?" Hermione pleaded, her heart aching for their safety. "Please, don't abandon me here."
She couldn't help but wonder what had become of her friends, whether they were safe, whether they were still alive. The uncertainty gnawed at her, leaving her to question if they would ever return for her or if she would face her demise in this desolate place.
Abruptly, the men threw her to the ground, causing her knees to collide with the unforgiving earth. Dirt and grass clung to her skin as she struggled to regain her footing. She looked up and was met with a chilling sight—a large wooden post stood before her, adorned with ropes and chains.
Nearby, a pile of wood and a flickering torch hinted at the sinister intentions of the gathering villagers. Armed with pitchforks and knives, their faces contorted with malice. A priest, clutching a book and a cross, stood amidst the crowd, while a cauldron bubbled with a mysterious liquid.
Realization struck Hermione like a bolt of lightning. They intended to sacrifice her to the dragon. She was to be bound to the post and set ablaze, a desperate attempt to appease the wrathful beast and secure their own salvation.
Terror coursed through her veins, and she fought to rise, desperate to run, to hide, to escape. But it was too late. The men seized her once more, lifting her up and carrying her toward the cauldron. With cruel force, they forced her to drink the bubbling concoction.
"Drink, witch, drink!" one of them sneered, pinching her nose and pouring the liquid down her throat. "This will make you more palatable to the dragon and more obedient to its will."
"Release me, you monsters!" Hermione attempted to shout, but her words fell on deaf ears. The liquid coursed through her veins, its effects taking hold.
A searing burn ignited in her throat, accompanied by a dizzying sensation in her head. Her vision blurred, her hearing dulled, and her consciousness began to fade. Spiraling into darkness, she succumbed to the void.
When she finally regained consciousness, a cold breeze brushed against her face. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing the vast expanse of the night sky adorned with the moon and stars. Clouds drifted lazily, driven by the wind, while in the distance, fire and smoke danced in a macabre display.
Realization washed over her like a tidal wave. She was still alive, albeit for a fleeting moment. Bound to the wooden post, she found herself draped in a flowing white dress, a stark contrast to the impending doom that awaited her. She understood her role clearly—she was the bait, and the dragon, the relentless hunter.
In that moment of despair, Hermione couldn't help but question the cruel irony of escaping death in her own world only to be subjected to the clutches of a dragon in this alternate reality. She pondered the purpose behind it all, the meaning hidden within the chaos. A flicker of hope ignited within her, fueled by the knowledge that she was a witch, a fighter, and that she still possessed a chance, no matter how slim.
With trembling hands, she reached for her beaded handbag, relieved to find it still secured to her ankle. A surge of relief coursed through her, mingled with a flicker of courage. She remembered she had the strength to fight, to resist.
Whispering the incantation, "Accio wand," she willed a spare wand to be summoned from her beaded handbag. A faint tug in her being signaled success, and she watched as the wand soared through the air.
Stretching her arm to its limit, she strained to catch it.
"Come on, come on, please work!" Hermione muttered urgently, her arm outstretched. The wand drew nearer, closer, almost within reach.
But then, a piercing cry echoed through the sky—a colossal white dragon appeared. With majestic wings unfurled and its menacing maw wide open, it bore down on Hermione. The creature's magnificence was undeniable, its scales shimmering with a pearlescent glow beneath the moon's gentle light. Yet, its sheer terror was equally undeniable, its claws sharp as razors and its teeth ready to rend flesh.
The dragon attacked, seizing Hermione still attached to the wooden post. With a mighty heave, it carried her aloft, soaring into the night sky.
Together, they embarked on an exhilarating and treacherous journey, leaving behind a trail of fire, uncertainty, and the remnants of a world teetering between hope and despair.
Hermione found herself in a precarious situation as the mighty dragon hurled her into a cavern nestled high in the treacherous mountain peaks.
Her heart raced as she plummeted into a jagged pit, the impact jarring her body and causing a sharp pain to shoot through her leg.
Gritting her teeth against the agony, she cautiously glanced downward, only to discover a deep gash oozing crimson. A groan escaped her lips as she struggled to rise to her feet.
Suddenly, a thunderous roar reverberated through the cave, signaling the dragon's ominous presence. Its colossal head crept into the opening, its fiery breath scorching the surrounding air.
Hermione's senses were overwhelmed as she dodged the searing flames, seeking refuge behind a sturdy boulder. The intense heat pressed against her skin, mingling with the acrid scent of burning and the suffocating smoke that filled her lungs.
Her desperation grew as she fought to evade the relentless dragon, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. She clung to hope, praying fervently that the fearsome creature would depart and leave her unharmed.
Still, her efforts to retrieve her beaded handbag, containing essential tools for survival, proved fruitless. Panic surged within her as the realization dawned that she had lost it during the dragon's initial assault. With no wand, no potions, and no aid in sight, she was left utterly defenseless.
Desperation fueled young witch's attempts to cast a spell, but her voiceless incantations yielded no results. Bereft of her wand and with her magical abilities waning, she could only endure the throbbing pain in her leg and the steady flow of her life force slipping away.
Anguish and frustration mingled as curses tumbled from her lips, directed at the dragon, the villagers, and even herself. She cursed her cruel fate, this world, and everything that had led her to such dire predicament.
However, a disdainful laugh echoing from beyond the depths of the cave abruptly silenced Hermione's venomous tirade. She froze, straining to discern the source of the mocking voice. It taunted her, deriding her current state with a cruel sarcasm that sent chills down her spine.
"Who are you? Where are you? Please, I need your help," she implored, her voice trembling with desperation.
"Why should I help you? You brought this upon yourself, witch. It is you who angered the dragon, and it is you who deserves to face your demise," the voice responded, dripping with malice.
"No, you don't understand! I'm not from here. I'm trapped, and I need to escape. There must be a way," Hermione pleaded, her words laced with frantic urgency.
"A way? There is no escape, no salvation from the dragon's wrath.
Accept your fate and cease your futile struggles. Learn the lesson of humility, for you and your kind are nothing more than feeble, doomed creatures," the voice sneered with spiteful contempt.
"Enough! You know nothing about me, my kind, or the power of magic.
There is no such thing as impossible, only the realm of possibility waiting to be conquered. And I will find a way," Hermione retorted, resolute in the face of adversity.
With tears streaming down her face, she hurled a stone towards the sound of the voice. A resounding crack echoed through the cave as the wall crumbled, revealing a hole emanating a glimmer of light.
Through the gap emerged a man, dressed in a peculiar tunic and armed with a sword at his side. He observed Hermione with a mix of amusement and disdain.
"Witch, you are stubborn, naive, and foolish. You believe you can escape, but you are doomed to fail. Remain within this cave and await the dragon's wrath," he coldly admonished.
A surge of anger and a flicker of courage ignited within Hermione. Ignoring the man's derisive words, she defiantly crawled through the hole, determined to forge her own path to freedom.