Time Of Terror

"Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no..." Hermione thought as she raced up the stairs at Hogwarts, her billowing satin gray cloak flowing over her business suit like water might against a dolphin. "I’m late!"

There were no students in the halls; class had begun five minutes ago. How Hermione could have lost track of time like that was beyond her. But then, the library was always cozy, even when she was a student. Stopping for a moment before the classroom door, Hermione blinked, running a hand nervously through her hair out of habit. Having cut it short after seventh year, she was now used to not feeling it cascading down her back, but only a few inches off her skull.

Swallowing, Hermione opened the door with a flick of her wand, and her brown eyes gazed across the room.

Inside, Professor Longbottom’s Defense Against the Dark Arts students sat patiently in their seats. Professor Longbottom himself was standing; fidgeting at the chalkboard while the chalk zoomed across back and forth. It said, "Doctor Granger to Visit".

"Welcome Doctor Granger," Neville said haltingly. He reminded her of Quirrell before Voldemort, stuttering incoherently. His seventh year had scarred him for life. The question was, who hadn’t been?

"Thank you Professor," Hermione said with a curt smile. She then turned to the students. "Are you all seventh years?" Heads nodded in agreement, and she saw Denis Creevey and some other familiar faces waving at her from the back. She smiled and turned back her attention to the rest of the class. "Now, the reason I am here today is to discuss with you--"

The door opened again, and everyone turned to see who it was. Hermione had never seen this student before; he must have been a first year. A tall and skinny boy, he had black hair and blue eyes. The hair was messy, and for a moment Hermione cringed as she thought of Harry.

"’Scuse me Professor, but Headmistress needs to see Dr. Granger ASAP." Neville nodded and walked over to Hermione.

"I can explain it myself; it just won’t be as thorough. Don’t worry Hermione. Go ahead."

~

"Yes Headmistress?" Hermione was in the McGonagall’s office. Much different from the last time she was here, the room had been converted from fitting Dumbledore to McGonagall. Never thought she would see the day, Hermione was curious and looking all over the room.

Fawkes was gone. Dumbledore’s picture was added to the collection of Headmasters and Headmistresses on the wall. Most of them were putting their heads on their hands in discomfort or grogginess. McGonagall turned her dignified face to Hermione’s, still unchanging after nine years of knowing the latter. Her eyes were troubled and there were more wrinkles than usual.

"Miss Granger, we just got urgent news from St. Mungo’s. Mr. Weasley just woke up."

~

Ginny Weasley walked down the tile floor of St. Mungo’s, her high heels making an echo in the silent hallway. Brushing away a strand of burning red hair, she stopped at the last door in the hallway.

"Number four-fifty…Ron’s Room." Ginny took out a letter full of scribbled writing out, glanced at the text, and opened the door. Inside, the whole Weasley clan was there, crying, hugging, and talking amiably. George and Fred where on either side of Ron’s bed, talking amiably about how their business had prospered over the past two years.

"Fred! George! Ron just woke up! He doesn’t want to know how you’re business has been doing!" Percy stomped over, his face tear-streaked and his hair all over.

"Of course he doesn’t. He wants to know about how you’ve just been promoted. Right Percy?" Bill replied, nudging Charlie in the ribs. The two burst out laughing.

"Come on now, stop it you two," Mrs. Weasley jumped in before Percy exploded. Obviously they all had been here for a while.

"Ginny," Ron smiled, and the others turned their attention. She moved forward and hugged Ron, then turned to each member of her family and gave them all a hug. As she was letting go of Mr. Weasley, the door opened again. Hermione, her short hair windblown as much as was possible, ran in and hugged Ron. Starting to sob, Hermione clutched him while squeezing her eyes shut. Two years of agonizing pain and no one to share it with. Not since…

“Lets leave them for a few minutes…” Mrs. Weasley ushered her children and husband out into the hallway. Ron looked up at Hermione with glistening eyes.

“What’s wrong Herm? Where’s Harry?” Hermione said nothing. Ron’s eyes grew huge and full of tears. “He’s not…no, you’ve got to be…Hermione…No!”

Hermione closed her eyes, bit her lip and hung her head as tears streamed as if they were leaking from a broken faucet. A shiver ran through her as Ron stifled a sob. His mouth was open in shock, and he ran a hand through his longer, tangled hair.

Hermione swallowed before she spoke. “After you were knocked out… Harry and I were alone, alone with You-Know-Who. Of course Harry had been given permission to use Av…Avada Kedavra on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, seeing as how the Ministry knew that…that Voldemort would be coming after him for the last time.”

Ron winced at the sound of the name, but said nothing. Hermione almost smiled at the memory of Harry telling her not to use ‘You-Know-Who’, but Voldemort’s real name.

“As Harry protected me, he shouted the curse and hit Voldemort. Then, he shouted the spell we made, the spell that we thought of to kill him. It would have worked, but…”

“You-Know-Who struck first?” Ron whispered, not trusting his voice.

“Harry’s… our spell hit him just as Voldemort shouted Avada Kedavra at him… I was alone.”

“Hermione…” Ron was crying openly now with no sound. “What did You-Know-Who hit me with?”

“They still don’t know. Its what I’ve been studying for the past two years as a MediWizard. They think it’s going to be made another Unforgivable Curse. They call it The Inside Death. It causes the unfortunate soul that’s hit with it to go into magic induced slumber, unable to be woken by magic or Muggle methods; like coma. The part that makes it an Unforgivable Curse is that it eventually causes your organs to cave in. I guess you just have to wake up on your own. You were lucky Ron; you woke up before it started to eat away at your heart. They’ll fix you up soon, but until then, just stay in bed.” Hermione, who had gained face through her explanation, took one look at the whitened Ron and took a great sigh. “This is all new to you. But I’ve been dealing with it for the past two years.”

“Two years?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve got to catch up with the Cannons.”

~

Out in the hallway Ginny was pacing. Every once in a while she took out the crinkled piece of paper and glanced at the scribbled writing. The rest of the Weasleys were sitting in their respective places, each quiet in thought. The hallway was bright, as if to cheer, but it did no good. The intense lights only spread dark shadows in corners and beneath feet.

Finally the door opened. Hermione, her hair tamed somewhat, walked out in her business suit and silvery cloak. She looked much like she did when she stepped out of the very same room two years ago, only now much more awake and lively. Ginny got a flashback…

…”Mr. and Mrs. Weasley…I’m afraid that Ron is not going to be ok for a very long time…” Ginny’s parents had burst into tears that they had held back for about twenty minutes.

“What is the diagnosis?” Charlie put in. Bill was off doing Gringotts business and had not been able to hear about it in time.

”They don’t know what it is, but evidently there is some sort of magic surrounding him. If they try to heal the damage the magic is causing, they’ll only make it worse. He’s going to have to wake up on his own. The doctors speculate five to ten years…”

“FIVE TO TEN YEARS?” Mrs. Weasley burst out, her hair was in disarray, and her cheeks were flushed. “He could be DEAD by then!”

“Molly, dear, shouting will help no one…” Mr. Weasley looked at his downtrodden wife, silent tears streaming down his face.

“He’s right Mum,” Percy sighed. He looked down at the white tile, shuffling his feet as his neck turned blotchy. It seemed to do that when he was extremely upset, or nervous.

It all seemed too much for Hermione. She burst into tears and ran away, down the hall, sobbing.

“Out of all of us she seems to be suffering the worst…” George commented, staring into space at nothing in particular…

…“He’s going to be fine…” Hermione smiled. Everyone let out sighs of relief, especially Mrs. Weasley, who let out a sob of excitement. “They’ve made miraculous advancements on how to keep the patients stable, but it was Ron’s courage and durability that kept him alive.”

“Thank you so much for coming Hermione.” Fred smiled, the old mischievous glint returning to his eye.

“Yeah Hermione, you’ve been really great.” George added. “You’ve been through it all with us. No matter what you were doing…” Hermione shrugged, blushing furiously.

“No problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I must be off.”

“Hermione-” Ginny interrupted. “I…I have something for you. I know its not the best time, but perhaps we could go somewhere private?” Everyone looked at the Weasley girl with curious glances. Hermione however, seemed to find this completely normal and followed her friend down the hall.

~

“What do you need Gin?” Hermione asked, sitting down on one of the chairs stored in the empty hospital room.

“Hermione… I’ve got something for you. I just got it the other day, and I really think you should look at it. It’s from…It’s from Harry.” Ginny sat down, her long red hair shimmering in the dim light. Hermione just laughed, rolling her eyes as a mother would at her little child, but inside she began to quiver.

“Ginny, you know Harry is dead.”

“I’m not doing this to open wounds! Don’t you think this is hard for me too?” Ginny thrust out the paper she had clenched in her palm. “Look at this!” Her expression was solemn as Hermione grabbed the paper. Still rolling her eyes, the latter opened the document and smoothed it on her pant leg.

Hermione only gasped when she saw what it was.