Of All The Times...

         The soft tapping of an owl’s wings on her window woke up bushy-haired teenaged girl from her dreams. Hermione Granger blearily opened one eye, and groaned as she sat up and padded over to her window. She opened it, and a beautiful snowy owl flew into her bedroom, and landed softly on her bed, a small, hastily written note tied to its leg.

“Hedwig?” Hermione asked softly.

         The owl hooted softly, in a sad, mournful way. Hermione, looking puzzled, untied the note, and sat down on her bed, turning on a lamp. As soon as she did so, Hedwig blinked, and flew to the windowsill. Giving that same mournful sound that she had made moments before, she flew out the window into the night.

         Hermione looked quizzically out the door.

What was that about? she wondered as she unfolded the note. She took a glance at it, and gasped. The note was in Dumbledore’s handwriting.

Ms. Granger,

Harry has attempted to commit suicide. He is currently in St. Mungo’s, but in very critical condition. As this may be your last chance to see him, I suggest that you have your trunk packed by midnight. I will be arriving at your house at that time to explain to your parents what is happening, and to escort you to the hospital.

                           Sincerely,

Professor Dumbledore

         

         Hermione sat on her bed, staring at the wall, but not really seeing it. The note fluttered out of her now limp hand. All she could think about was the note. This may be your last chance to see him. Hermione bit her lip, and blinked back tears. Harry was one of her best friends. He couldn’t just leave her, he couldn’t die. He just couldn’t.

         Hermione’s gaze began to wander, and then her digital clock caught her eye. It lime green numbers read 11:45. Hermione started. She had 15 minutes to get everything packed. She began throwing things into her trunk without bothering to neaten things out. She ran all over the house, locating all of her belongings that had gone astray, while trying to be as quiet as she could. At 11:59 she was positive she had everything in her trunk, and began lugging it downstairs.

What I wouldn’t give to be able to use magic right now, she muttered as the trunk smashed into her ankle for the fifth time. When she finally reached the bottom of the stairs and was at the point of dragging it to the front door, her father’s voice drifted down the stairwell.

“‘Mione? What are you doing? It’s midnight, and you are dragging your Hogwart’s trunk downstairs.”

         Hermione sighed.

“I know, Dad, but Profesor Dumb-“

         A sharp crack interrupted Hermione’s explanation. Her father yelled, and both Mr. And Mrs. Granger came running down the stairs just in time to see Albus Dumbledore standing in their foyer.

“Hello,” said Dumbledore as he stuck out his hand. “I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts.”

         Mr. Granger shook his hand, but looked puzzled. “Pleased to meet you, but why are you here at my house in the middle of the night?”

         Dumbledore sighed. “Only a very serious problem would have me interrupt your slumber, sir. I will send Hermione on her way, and then I will explain everything.”

“Send Hermione where?” asked Mrs. Granger suspiciously, talking for the first time.

         It was Hermione, not Dumbledore that answered.

“Harry attempted to commit suicide, Dad. Profesor Dumbledore wants me to go to the hospital to see him, be-“

“Because this is the last time she might be able to,” finished Dumbledore, looking at all of them.

         That was when Hermione noticed that the twinkle in his eye, which she was so accustomed to seeing, was gone, and was replaced by a look of heavy despair.

“Please, mum, I have to go. Harry is my best friend, and...”

         Hermioen choked, and tears sprung unbidden to her eyes. She blinked furiously to keep them away.

“But, ‘Mione...”

“No, mum. I have to go.”

         Dumbledore drew out his wand. Mr. And Mrs. Granger flinched, and Mrs. Granger gave a small shriek.

         For the first time she could remember, Hermione felt exasperated with her parents. Normally they would have accepted her going. And they wouldn’t hav e flinched at the sight of a wand. They were acting...well, a bit Dursleyish, from what she had heard from Harry about his aunt and uncle.

         At the thought of Harry, Hermione felt the tears finally fall. The flowed in rivers down her cheeks, an d she was powerless to stop them.

         Dumbledore noticed them first, and placed his wand on Hermione’s trunk.

“Portus,” he mumbled, and her trunk glowed in a bright blue light, and then it faded.

“Hermione,” he said, addressing her so softly so that her parents wouldn’t hear. “Your trunk is a Portkey. Take it to Saint Mungo’s. Molly Weasley will be in the waiting room.”

         Hermione nodded, and placed a finger on her trunk. The world began spinning, and she felt the most peculiar sensation of a hook tugging her, just behind her navel.

         The colors flashed around her, and Hermione finally broke down, weeping as the Portkey took her away.