Chapter 8

St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries hadn't changed that much over the course of eighteen years... well, except perhaps with the exception of some long term patients, of course.

The moment Unspeakable Mainwaring introduced her to Chef Healer Vincent Vanguard, Hermione had been ushered through a bombardment of questions and diagnostic scans.

Being an only daughter of two highly health conscious muggle dentists, she had had little exposure to hospitals - which had been a blessing since common muggle medical procedure and practices did little to no benefit or actually confounded issues for Wizards - so she could not accurately determine if St Mungo's admission routine was either special or different as any other non-magical hospital but she was sure that asking questions such as, "Have you ever use a Time-Turner or traveled in time before?" or her new all time favorite question, "Have you run across any unusual books or trinkets with allusions to space-time or time travel recently?" was not part of muggle hospital admission questionnaires.

She was divested of her clothes and given a pair of new, clean patient wizarding robes. Robes that had been enchanted to monitor her vital signs, if she wasn't mistaken about the characteristic nature of the interwoven notification magic that made up the simple blue and white checkered robe.

Then after it appeared that she wouldn't be disappearing or fainting anytime soon she had been left alone in her new temporary home: the Samuel Beckett Ward. Briefly wondering why a time maladies ward would be named after the late poet she cautiously began exploring her surroundings.

There were four identical beds (except for the one bed assigned to her that now sported a floating chart that bobbed gently at the end of the bed every few seconds) with four matching nightstands complete with a self-serving and self-refilling water pitcher next to a basin and glass. There were also two privacy screens standing guard by the ward's entrance; a pile of wooden alphabet blocks lying in a half-hazard heap on top of an old Raggedy Andy doll which Hermione quickly rescued and placed on top of her bed; and at the far corner - and where Hermione now stood - was a small, pitiful bookcase that only housed four books: a book of poems penned by Samuel Beckett, a well worn Bible, C.S. Lewis's The Magician's Nephew, and a copy of Robert Louis Stevenson's A Child's Garden of Verses.

Grabbing the four books she went back to her bed and sat beside the recovered Raggedy Andy doll. Shifting the small stack of books to rest between them she surveyed the small and lonesome ward once more.

She was positive that if she was also a fan of those suspenseful horror movies that Dean and Sophie liked that she would find this ward creepy, spooky, or potentially sinister but thankfully she didn't.

Okay, maybe it was slightly off-putting now that she thought about that comparison but she could quickly overcome it through reading. Thus, she opened the thickest book out of the four while automatically bringing Raggedy Andy closer before she began reading.

Hermione woke with a start and hurriedly tried to get a grasp of where she was. In only a few seconds she recognized where she was, St Mungo's, and also when, 1976.

"Are you feeling all right, dear?" asked an entering nurse who Hermione hadn't met before.

"Your heart and breathing were racing to beat each other," the nurse looked motherly and sounded quite approachable with a striking resemblance to Mrs. Weasley except for the slight graying at her temples.

"Yes, am quite fine," liar, she chided herself, "thank you."

Hermione accepted the glass of water the nurse offered and drank it slowly as the nurse silently re-checked her vital signs with a wave of her wand.

"Now, why were you so upset?" the nurse asked after verifying that all vitals were returning back to their desired ranges.

Hermione faltered for a beat before she begrudgingly replied, "I must have had a nightmare."

Liar, her inner conscience barked again before she squashed it.

It had been more a half-truth really. She had had a disturbing dream not a nightmare exactly but might as well have been one for the sudden scare at the end.

"Must? Do you not remember what you dreamed, child?"

Hermione shook her head, "No, I don't."

All right, now that was a straight out lie. She did remember it, all too well, but something deep within her did not want to share it with anyone. Although, she knew that thought did not make reasonable sense. It wasn't like she had a naughty dream or one that revisited a terrifying or extremely embarrassing moment in her young life, yet she felt oddly protective about it.

All it was, was a dream centered around her waking in the middle of a hedge maze at the parameter of some stately and private garden. It was twilight and she was finding it difficult to find her way. During her futile attempts to orient herself, she had cried out and had been surprised to hear a masculine voice call back demanding her to identify herself. Which she had, although whether the boy had heard her or not she did not know, at least he did answer back that he was coming.

A part of her had argued that she should stay where she was till he got there, but frankly, she didn't know what to expect when he got there and seeing as she was wandless, not to mention curious to see what that small building before her was, she continued onward.

She quickly recognized the structure once inside, it was an old owlery, but instead of owls, it housed a large colony of bats. She had tried leaving the owlery quietly but there had been some loud noise from outside that stirred the resting bats into flight.

The last thing she remembered was covering her face as clouds of bats swarmed around her.

It was the exact same dream down to the bats from the night before.

"Well, if you ever remember and want to talk about it I'll be here. Just a call away," the nurse said reassuringly, patting Hermione's hand gently as she sent the empty glass back to the night stand.

"Thank you," Hermione managed, still wrestling with the guilt of lying to the friendly nurse.

"No problem, dear. Oh, I almost forgot," the nurse stopped and fished out a small, miniaturized parcel that had been wrapped in dark blue, glittery paper and silver twine. "This came to you earlier during the evening post."

Hermione cautiously took the package. She could barely make out the label since it was obviously shrunk with the rest of the package but it was addressed to her - it even included the correct ward - and it boasted the Hogwarts crest if she wasn't mistaken.

Could it be the books Headmaster Dumbledore had told her he would send?

She dared hope, having already finished the four books that made up the ward hours ago.

"Thank you," she muttered when she remembered her manners but the nurse had already left. Hermione untied the small box and smiled as it began to grow.

Realizing that it was becoming quite heavy and big she quickly set it down on the bed before her.

She was glad she did when, not a minute later, it had reached its original size which rivaled the dimensions of her school trunk. Lifting the lid she found a handwritten letter, on enchanted sky blue stationery that mirrored the early evening sky complete with tiny stars twinkling in the weave of the heavy paper, from Dumbledore:

"Miss Granger,

Here is the promised information about America and Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft. I know you shall take very good care of these volumes and that they will offer you some respite if not answers to your situation.

Sincerely,

A Dumbledore

PS: There is also a small gift from both Professor McGonagall and myself. We hope that it will give you some resemblance of

comfort and company. "

Hermione carefully laid the letter aside on the night stand and looked into the box to discover an emerald green teddy bear.

She smiled and took out the teddy bear and shook her head before placing it beside her and Raggedy Andy. "Now you have a friend," she muttered before she returned her attention back to the box.

"Praise Gryffindor," she muttered as she carefully but excitedly took out book after book. The box held twenty-one books that seemed to range from muggle text to wizarding literature. She had never received twenty-one books in one parcel before and they were all leather bound and had obviously been tenderly handled with great care. Readjusting herself to where she sat cross-legged, her pillow behind her, she began reading each book's title and sorting them into their appropriate piles of categories: American History, American Government, Wizarding America, and lastly, Ilvermony.

Making a mental note to ask for some stationery or parchment so she could send a thank you to Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, she opened the modest bond pamphlet entitled The Legend of Ilvermony and started reading.

Author Note:

First off, thank you all for your wonderful reviews (this is my first story to top 50+ reviews all thanks to y'all!). While I haven't been able to logon and reply back like I should (sorry!) please know that each one has brightened my day and encouraged me through some hard personal times.

Sorry for the long absence with, well, everything really. The TL;DR of it is that I've been gravely ill and I haven't been able to do anything fandom related (yes, that includes art, writing, and RPing) for months. I am doing better and I actually want to get back into doing things again, so here I am.

Oh, since my cell and FFN and DA hate each other (I literally just spent hours trying just to log on to post this... my sadly backlogged PM inbox will have to wait till another day) I'll be posting future chapter updates on my AO3 account first and then hopefully getting it up here too within 24-36 hours.

Expect the next chapter sometime this week.