Hermione stood, watching the sea dance up and down the beach. As she watched, tears trickled and dropped, one by one, down to the ground. Then some movement caught the corner of her eye. She turned her head slowly towards it. A boy was standing on the cliff near her, but he was staring at the ground, not the sea. Although she didn’t want to move, something inside her needed to talk to him, to anyone.

Hermione moved slowly, step by step, towards the boy. The distance between them seemed to stretch out into miles and miles. She couldn’t see, and felt dizzy. Then everything went black.

She was always white. Whenever they played, she was white. All because of that first game.

”Will you play then, Hermione? Come on, I promise I won't be too hard on you.” He was grinning, challenging her. And she never backed down from a challenge, even then.

“All right,” she sighed. “What colour?”

“Well, white always goes first-”

“I'll be white then,” she said, trying not to giggle.

He moved one pawn, one square forward.

But now he was gone. He: the one who had taught her to love. He was always saying that she was cleverer, and maybe she was. But cleverness and books didn't matter; there were more important things -- things like friendship, and bravery. Things that he had.

So maybe she should change. A smile lit her face, the first one for weeks. She had reached a decision, and she wouldn't break it.

“I promise, Ron. I promise.” Next time, she would choose black.

When Hermione awoke, she was lying on her back. Slowly, she got up and looked around her. Shaking her head from the odd dream she had, she looked about her.

***

Hermione was walking back to her cottage, her head up high. Then she stopped, and a confused look crossed her face. Where the set of tiny rooms should be, nestled between a cliff and a wood, was nothing, just a blank, empty space. Cautiously, Hermione began to creep forward.

But the lot was not quite empty. A girl, about seven years old, stood right in the middle. The girl turned as Hermione approached, though her shoes weren’t making any noise on the tall grass.

The girl smiled and extended a hand. Hermione took it and shook, then dropped her own hand, surveying the girl suspiciously.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Jessenia.” The girl smiled wider, showing teeth that glinted white against her tanned skin. “Follow me.”

Dumbly, Hermione followed. They walked into the forest and past trees. They walked for what seemed like years, yet Hermione couldn’t seem to think. Gradually the trees went from English oaks, holly bush’s and yew trees to exotic fruit trees, and spindly bamboo canes.
This isn’t normal. The thought barely registered in Hermione’s mind before it was gone. Eventually, they stopped beside an oddly thick tree, different from the others Hermione had seen in this seemingly magical forest.

“Let me tell you a little of my life. I grew up far away from here, with many other children and families. But that didn’t last very long. There were four different groups of people in that village. One group of people began to attack another, and they wiped them out - all except one.

Some friends and I escaped, and ran away. For many years we lived alone.
But then strange things began to happen, and we realised this was magic.

“So I came here,” Jessenia said as she waved a brown hand at their surroundings. “To join others like me, and to control my magic. But then I learned there were other organization’s like this, called, uh, I think you say ‘schools’ where children learn all together! It sounded very exciting, so a group of my friends and I decide to each research a special student, from a different country. I chose you.”

“But, why? And, my cottage-”

Jessenia smiled again, and waved her hands. They were sitting on the sofa Hermione’s cramped living room, on the sofa. Now the tall girl’s long black hair, bare feet, and bright dress looked out of place.

“How… Never mind.” Hermione remembered her manners. “Would you like a drink?”

Jessenia nodded happily and took the biscuit that Hermione gave her. Then the two girls settled down to chat some more.

They talked late into the night, and Jessenia told her that the boy on the cliff had been one of her friends. But when Hermione fainted, he panicked and ran. Soon, however, the time came for Jessenia to go back.

“I will come again, soon, Hermione,” Jessenia said solemnly at the door, and then she turned and vanished into the night. Hermione hummed as she walked down the hall, when she heard a strange plinking noise.

She whipped out her wand and peered into the lounge.

Nothing.

“Hello?”

No answer. But the noise carried on.

Annoyed, Hermione went back into the hall. Then she came to an abrupt halt, staring at something which was dangling from the ceiling.

Water was coming through the ceiling.

Hermione stormed upstairs, fuming. That roof! It’s leaking everywhere! She thought. It had better be fixed by tomorrow evening…

Downstairs, there was a steady drip, drip, drip of water as the hall gradually got wetter with the rain that kept leaking through the numerous holes in the roof.

Hermione grabbed the bucket from behind the sink and went back to the hall. She put the bucket under the biggest leak, and went up to bed. I just hope it doesn’t flood, was her last thought before she slipped away into dreamland.

________________________________________________________________________

The next afternoon no one had come, and Hermione was getting irritable.
She snatched up the phone and dialled.

“Hello, Rent-a-Cottage, Lila speaking.”
“Hello, this Hermione Granger. I’m renting the Cliffside Cottage and I have a complaint. You see, the roof-”
“All complaints must be filed to the owner of the cottage. We don’t deal with them. Goodbye,” the girl said, almost robotically.
“But-”
“Goodbye, Miss. Granger. Have a happy holiday!” With a cheery tone, ‘Lila’ hung up.

Hermione ground her teeth. “Well, I’ll just have to go over there…”

She Apparated.

***

Ginny sat down, staring at the kitchen floor. Memories ran through her mind, pulling at the edges. Faces swirled in front of her, taunting her.

“Anyone hurt?” Harry asked.

He was standing beside his friends, making sure everyone was all right. Just like always.

“I’m all right,” answered Hermione.

“Me too,” Ginny replied.

“Ron?” Harry said.

No answer.

“Ron!” Hermione was panicking now.

No answer.

Ginny bent down and began to look through the rubble. He’s got to be here. He’s got to be here. The one thought went round and round in her head.

“Here he is!” With the sound of Harry’s voice came a wave of relief over Ginny. Immediately both of the girls ran over to Harry.

“Rennervate,” He pointed his wand at Ron. Ron stirred.

But at that moment six people burst through the only wall that had, up until that point, remained standing. Now it crumbled.

The six people all wore plain black robes, with masks covering their faces. They raised their wands.

“Stupefy!”

A jet of red light flew straight towards Hermione and hit her in the chest before Harry or Ginny could make a move. Hermione fell to the ground, eyes closed.

“Hermione!” Ron managed to sit up and reached out for her.

Ginny turned to face their attackers.

“Avada Ked-”
“Protego!” Ginny shouted, full of rage. But it was no use. They were outnumbered two to one.

The memory faded. Tears ran down Ginny’s cheek, and she collapsed, crying.

Now that the house was useable again, Hermione wanted to introduce her new friend Jessenia to Ginny. Instead of sending an owl, Hermione decided to Apparate and take her friend out to lunch. However, when she got there, Ginny was crying, a stream of tears running down her face.

“Ginny! What’s the matter?”

“Her - Hermione?” Ginny sounded surprised. “You - you’re dead! Are you a ghost, or something?”

“What? I’m not dead, Ginny. I’m fine… are you alright?”

“But - but I remember! I saw you die!”

Hermione shook her head. Then she stepped forward, concerned. Ginny scrambled backwards.

“Get away from me! You’re a Death Eater, trying to get information out of me, aren’t you? Well, I won’t tell! I won’t tell you where Harry is!”

“Ginny, I know where Harry is. He’s at the office - where he works. Ginny, the Death Eaters don’t exist anymore… I think you need a Healer. Have you been drinking?”

Slowly, Ginny shook her head. Her hand was shaking like a leaf as she picked up something behind her. Then suddenly -

“Stupefy!”

Hermione dodged the spell and got her own wand out.

“I’m sorry, Ginny, but I have to take you to St. Mungos. Come on.” Ginny didn’t fight back and she let the older witch take her by the hand and Apparate her to the hospital.

Hermione looked sadly at her friend. I’m so sorry, Ginny. I should have stopped them. But in her mind, Ginny was far away.

She sat in her cell, staring at the ground. Three weeks. That was how long she’d been here, trapped. She laughed mirthlessly, remembering what had brought her to rot in the godforsaken prison of Askaban.

She glared at him, her wand raised.

“Please - don’t - I beg you! I did not mean it - it was an accident! Please! Just listen to me!” he implored.

“It’s because of you he’s gone! You killed him! You deserve everything you get!” she hissed.

“But - it was an accident! It wasn’t my fault; I tried to stop it! Please -” He broke off and gulped, as her wand prodded his throat.

Her eyes seemed to glisten with rage.

“Avada Kedavra!” she screamed. His life disappeared in a flash of green, and he slumped. George, pale and sweaty, wand held tightly, burst in.

“Ginny!” he gasped. Dawlish followed him.

“You just used an Unforgivable!” The only brother she had left stared at the corpse on the floor. Dawlish looked from it to Ginny.

“I’m afraid you will have to come with me, Miss. Weasley.”

She had a year to rot in this godforsaken place. A whole year for avenging Harry! But her anger at the whole thing kept her sane, and she only had to survive for another year, instead of the rest of her life. They had been so ‘understanding’ of what she’d been going through then that they ‘let her off lightly.’ She snorted.

Back in reality, Hermione jumped, and got up.

“Ginny?”

There was no answer. Hermione sat down with a sigh. Another false alarm. If only there was a cure.