WHO: Hermione Granger (and OPEN) WHEN: Thursday evening WHERE: The Graveyard WHAT: Hermione's arrival RATING: PG STATUS: Complete as narrative
Hermione stumbled, flinging her hand out to brace herself, her reflexes sharp despite the state of exhaustion she was in. The heel of her hand collided with something cold, hard and unyielding. She gave a gasp of pain as she felt skin tear, the fresh graze adding to her collection of injuries, the bruises that had already started to blossom across her tired body. The pain in her hand had drawn her attention from the fall and, instead of righting herself, she landed hard on her knees. The ground under her was cold, wet and hard like ice, but Hermione made no attempt to move straight away. Instead, she peered around herself, taking in her surrounding and trying to piece everything together in her mind.
She had been at Hogwarts. They had... won. Voldemort was gone - finally, really gone. But the victory had been costly. People had died, friends and family, and the world they had all known was changed for good.
It only took Hermione a moment, tired as she was, to see she was no longer at Hogwarts, however. She was in a graveyard. The obstacle which had grazed her palm was a headstone. Godric's Hollow immediately sprang to mind, with its snowy graves, the lighted windows of the church turning each stone into a long, clamouring shadow, reaching out to her and Harry as they passed. It was snowing here too but this wasn't the graveyard where Lily and James were buried. She would hae recognised this place if she had been here before. This place was new to her.
Another thought stirred - one far less welcome. Harry had found himself inexplicably in a graveyard before. Cedric Diggory had been with him. Cedric Diggory had died there, at the grave of Voldemort's father, Tom Riddle. Hermione gulped. If this was that place, the place Harry had described, then reason told Hermione that her life was in danger. Voldemort may have been gone but they had always known there would be others - others like the Malfoys, the LeStranges, those who had believed - who may fight, even as they were defeated.
One thing troubled Hermione about her theory: how had she been brought here? When Harry had been taken from the Triwizard Maze, Barty Crouch Juniour had tricked him into touching a portkey. As hard as Hermione wracked her brains, she couldn't remember touching anything unusual before arriving in the graveyard. Could someone have apparated them here? But then where was the culprit now and why hasn't she felt the familiar tugging and squeezing sensation of apparition?
Confused, her head foggy from all she had been through in the last few days, Hermione pushed herself to her feet. Beyond the trees at the edge of the graveyard, through the small, white snowflakes that fell around her, she could see the soft glow of electric lights, of houses and street lights and cars - a town perhaps, or a village. She decided that had to be the best place for her to start looking for answers. She couldn't apparate herself away - not without risking splicing herself out of tiredness - but if someone had brought her to the graveyard, she wasn't going to sit and wait to find out why. Forcing her aching legs to move, she started towards where the darkening, cloudy sky glowed with the promise of people, answers and perhaps even a way home.