“Hermione, Hermione!” I cried, rushing into her room without bothering to knock. Well, she’s done it before, hasn’t she?
She was face down on her bed, and her only response was to pull her pillow over her head. I, however, was too desperate for answers to be dismissed by this action. I tore over to her bed, pulled her covers off, snatched her pillow, and proceeded to poke her in various, known-to-be-ticklish places until she looked at me with a murderous look in her eye.
If looks could kill...
“You could have had at least the courtesy to knock! For all you know, I could have been naked.”
The irony. That’s what I thought when Hermione barged into my room without knocking. But that’s completely beside the point.
“Now then, what’s so important that you couldn’t wait long enough to knock?” Hermione asked with an irritated expression. I gulped. Now that I was actually face to face with her, I wasn’t sure how to put what had happened into words. Maybe I should have just ignored them; maybe it was just the result of being in a coma for so long. Maybe dreams became reality, and vice versa, and soon it is hard to tell which is which.
“Well, I was taking a walk, and soon I came across a small pub,” I began, fiddling with a stray piece of brown hair.
“Wow, a pub. How incredible. May I please have my blankets back so I can go back to sleep?” Hermione mumbled sarcastically. I sighed. With Hermione in this mood, it would be even harder to make her understand.
“I’m not done yet. So, I walked inside, because most people didn’t seem to notice it and I wanted to know why. They were having a celebration of some sort. I began to overhear things -things about some Hogwarts place reopening, a celebration of the defeat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters by Harry Potter. They sounded rather familiar, and I remembered that in the car ride home from the hospital that you mentioned those words.”
Hermione looked more awake now. She climbed out of bed, stretched, and rubbed her eyes. If it had been any other conversation, I would have complimented her pajamas, a lion with a red and gold background.
“At least the fools are getting better at hiding their celebrations. All right, then. I suppose you want an explanation?” I nodded eagerly, happy that at last she is taking me seriously.
“I suppose I knew you would find out, which is why I didn’t take a lot of care in hiding it from you. I just didn’t expect it to be so soon. All right then, here is the truth: we’re all witches and wizards. Hogwarts is the school all the magical folk in England go to, starting when they’re eleven, and finish when they are seventeen. This next part is really hard to explain, and made even harder by your lost of memory, but I shall try my best.
“There is a dividing power in the Wizarding world: the ones whose entire families are composed of witches and wizards are known as purebloods. Those of us, myself included, who are either the only witches in our family (and we’re known as Muggle-borns, because a Muggle is what we call people without magic) or somewhere in our lineage we either have a Muggle-born or a Muggle. Those are called half bloods. Most people agree on the fact that your parentage has nothing to do with how good a witch or wizard you are, but there are those who disagree.
“One such wizard, who worked under the name of Voldemort, felt that way. He felt that the only suitable witches and wizards were those who ere purebloods. He and a group of followers called Death Eaters went around torturing and killing Muggle-borns and Muggles, trying to rid the world of them. There is more to the story, but I think Harry is the only one who can properly tell you this part, as it is his story.” I nodded again, feeling a lack of emotion and comprehension. Perhaps I felt this way because the words had not yet sunk in. Just then, the doorbell rang.
“Can you answer that? I’ll try to get ready,” Hermione asked, getting completely out of bed. She and I both knew that getting ready does not mean getting dressed, it means trying to cover up her red puffy eyes.
The doorbell rang again, and I rushed to the door. Ron and Harry were standing outside, looking serious. I imagined what it would be like for Hermione when she came outside – one, her boyfriend and who is completely in love with her; the other with a “we’re-just-friends-but-he’s-the-love-of-my-life” thing going on.
“Hello, Kendra. Is Hermione there?” Harry asked, a grave expression on his face.
“Hello. Come in. Hermione will be out in a second.”
I felt like a butler.
They came in and sat down on the couch. In a second, Hermione is out. When she sees who it is, I notice it takes her a second to regain her control and not burst out crying. The boys are oblivious – and all is as it should be.
“Hermione, I need your help.”
A/N- fairly quick update, but I had this chapter ready, thanks to my amazing beta. Thanks for all the reviews, guys! Keep it coming!