Hermione smiled and brushed her bushy, brown hair off her shoulder. She shivered slightly under her school robes. It was the beginning of January, and the weather was quite chilly. Besides her robes, she was only wearing her Gryffindor scarf. Sitting on a bench in the windy weather, she had a book on her lap while she watched Harry attempt to help Ron get better at Quidditch. The sight could be quite funny, yet serious all the same.

The entire time they practiced, Ron kept glancing her way and forgetting to watch where the Quaffle went. As Harry went pelting towards the ground after a missed Quaffle for the 1001th time, Hermione turned back to her book. She had brought her Ancient Runes book with her to practice for a quarterly exam the class was having at their next lesson.

“When the symbols are carved over one inch deep, they are from the Paleolithic Era. What? Hang on a second.” Hermione furrowed her eyebrows as she scrambled towards the appendices at the back of the book to look up ’Paleolithic Era’.

“Oh, look,” drawled a voice behind her, “the Mudblood doesn’t understand…for once.” A sneering laugh filled the air.

Hermione didn’t even have to turn around to recognize the voice. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

“Oh, nothing,” Draco Malfoy replied, as he slid onto the bench next to her. “Just watching the Weasel and Potter practice…uh…” he added, as Harry dived towards the ground yet again, “Try to practice. Ha, ha, ha!”

“Go away, Malfoy.” Hermione’s hand instinctively went to her robes for her wand.

“Oh, going to curse me, Granger? I’d like to see you try.”

In a second, both Hermione and Draco had pulled their wands from their robes and were facing each other in the bleachers, ready to duel.

“On three, then?” asked Hermione, always the sportsman.

“How about just on go?” Draco replied and quickly flicked a spell at her. “Expelliarmus!”

“Wingardium Leviosa!” Hermione replied in turn. Their spells met midair, and both Hermione and Draco flew backwards.

Ron, defending the goals, suddenly caught the Quaffle, yelled “Yes!”, turned to tell Hermione, and noticed their duel.

“Harry,” Ron cried, “look!”

Harry pulled his Firebolt up to a stop and looked to where Draco and Hermione had risen to their feet.

“Oh, no! What’s going on?”

“I dunno,” Ron replied. “But they had better watch out. Snape’s coming!”

“Hermione, stop!” Harry and Ron yelled in unison.

Hermione turned to look at them, and, in that split second, Draco fired a spell at her.

“Amoriate!”

With that one word, a streak of red flew from Draco’s wand and hit Hermione dead in the chest. Hermione dropped to the floor of the bleachers just as Ron slammed into Draco on his broomstick. Harry landed beside Hermione and began a quick glance over her condition. She was breathing and appeared to be fine, but unconscious. Harry looked up to where Draco and Ron were starting to duel and hurried between them.

“Don’t! Stop, Ron! Get out of here, Malfoy!” Harry cried, lifting his wand.

At that moment, Professor Severus Snape stormed into the bleachers.

“Well, what is going on here?” he hissed, his stony face engraved with a sneer. “It seems to me that there was fighting on school property. Tsk, tsk…50 points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley. And, an additional 10 from you, Mr. Potter, for not preventing the fight. And, Malfoy…a Slytherin, fighting? Ah, I guess we will have to talk in my office later today. 9 P.M. Don’t be late.” Snape turned to go.

“Professor Snape,” Harry called out, “Malfoy hit Hermione, and she isn’t moving.”

Snape looked at the prone figure and nudged Hermione gently with one black-booted foot. She moaned ever so slightly, and her eyelids fluttered open.

“Send her to the hospital wing; she seems to be alright,” he answered and swept off the pitch. Draco followed at his heels.

Hermione slowly sat up.

“Where am I?”

Ron rushed over. “You’re in the bleachers on the Quidditch pitch, Hermione. That scum, Malfoy, hit you with a spell.”

“Who’s Malfoy? And who are you? What’s a Quidditch pitch?” Hermione was starting to breathe quickly, as though she were stressed out. “Where am I?” She began to gasp and to cry like she were incredibly disoriented and lost.

“Hogwarts castle, Hermione.”

“Why do you keep calling me that? Who are you?”

“Harry,” Ron turned to Harry, eyes wide, “I think Hermione’s lost her mind! She doesn’t know where she is!”

“What?! Hermione, can you hear me?”

“Yes, I can hear you. Who are you? And why do you have that scar?”

“I’m Harry Potter, your best friend!”

“And I’m Ron Weasley, your best friend!”

“I don’t think I know you.” Hermione cried, wiping away her tears.

“Let’s get her up to the Hospital Wing, Ron. I bet Madam Pomfrey can set her right.”

Harry grabbed one of Hermione’s arms, and Ron grasped the other. They quickly pulled Hermione to a standing position. Ron grabbed the broomsticks, and they frog-marched Hermione up to the castle.