Chapter Text
Hermione Granger gasped as she came to consciousness and confusedly sat in the dark chamber. The veil’s curtain rippled, and she could hear the hum of voices for the first time. She was definitely not happy about her lack of clothing as she sat on the cold stone and gathered her muddled thoughts. How in the name of magic did she end up here?
She didn’t want to move as she collected herself. Where was she last? Could she remember? Hermione twirled a bit of her hair and tried to focus on just her memories. Unfortunately for her, they felt murky aside from consistent things. Harry, Ron, Hogwarts, Magic—they were cemented and real in her mind. Where things grew disheveled was actually pinpointing memories outside of her childhood and ideals: smoke.
What happened?
The creaking sound of the large door echoed in the room, and light poured into the room as the sconces around the chamber lit up. A set of voices were speaking but suddenly paused with gasps. Hermione glanced over and tried to cover herself as she noticed the young unspeakable standing dumbstruck and gawking at her.
“Uh, hello. Can you possibly help me?” Hermione grimaced at the frailty in her voice.
“Isn’t that—that’s Hermione Granger?” one of them whispered, and the others gasped and began agreeing.
“Call the Minister!” Another declared.
One of the young witches walked forward, pulled off her sweater, waved her wand at it, and offered the transfigured blanket to Hermione. “How did you get here?”
“I—I don’t really know. I woke up just right here not long ago. I was too confused to move or find anyone,” Hermione murmured. She took the blanket and wrapped it around herself.
“What’s your name? Can you tell me something about yourself?” She asked.
“Hermione Jean Granger. I’m a muggleborn and had a cat named Crookshanks,” Hermione replied. She knew the test for coherence after a memory accident and followed the procedure.
The witch nodded with a smile. “Well, Miss Granger, I know quite a few people that will be real happy to see you when we get you settled.”
Hermione glanced back at the veil and then the witch with a frown. “Did I die?”
That wasn’t an implausible theory. Considering she was naked, in the dark, in the Death Chamber at the Ministry of Magic. Of course, there could be several other reasons, but it made the most sense.
“How about we wait for Minister Shacklebolt?” The witch smiled and pulled a piece of candy from her coat pocket. “Did you want some chocolate? It’s from the Wheeze shop, but I promise there’s nothing funny about this piece. It’s just delicious. My name is Marie, by the way.”
Hermione laughed softly and nodded, reaching for the small piece of chocolate. “Thank you, Marie.”
“How old are you, Miss Granger?” Marie asked as she sat down next to Hermione.
“This is good,” Hermione smiled after a small bite. Yes, she ignored her question, but she really didn’t know. That definitely wasn’t normal.
“Good, I’m glad,” Marie laughed and smiled. “Do you remember your age?”
Hermione chewed the chocolate and frowned. “I don’t remember.”
“What’s your last real memory?” Marie questioned as she dug for another chocolate.
Hermione slanted her head and bunched the blanket further over her shoulders. “I remember graduating from Hogwarts. I remember going to the Burrow, holding Teddy for Andromeda, and telling William Weasley about my five-year plan.”
Marie smiled and nodded. “Good, Miss Granger. Anything else?” She offered the candy.
Hermione unwrapped it and breathed before chewing on the chocolate. Nothing. There was nothing after that, and protocol likely would have dictated that she only ask that if it wasn’t the most current history. How did she know Ministry protocols?
“No… but I understand you’re checking my awareness of time by memory. How long ago did I graduate?” Hermione asked.
The door opened again, and Kingsley Shacklebolt walked into the chamber with Harry in tow. Hermione gasped and stood up as her eyes touched on Harry. He had aged so much before her in an instant. Gone were the teenage shiftings of maturity, and he had become a full-fledged man with tiny strands of gray peaking through his black hair.
“Harry,” Hermione murmured and stepped, only nearly falling at her weakened legs.
Marie was there and caught her, carefully pulling her back to her feet as Harry raced over. He gripped her face, and it was apparent that his eyes glistened with the threat of tears. Hermione felt overwhelmed, and her heart throbbed with a shocking sense of relief.
“I… it’s you. Hermione, I know this face. I missed this face,” Harry huffed. A tear splattered his cheek, and he slid down.
“Harry, what happened? Why am I in the Death Chamber? What happened to me?” Hermione’s voice quivered as she stared up at him.
“Minister, she doesn’t have any memories past her graduation from Hogwarts,” Marie relayed as Kingsley approached.
Kingsley frowned slightly. “Truly?”
“We’re going to get you cleared, okay? We’ll get you home safe,” Harry whispered and smiled before slowly releasing Hermione from his grip.
Hermione adjusted the blanket and cleared her throat. Fear. She had to compartmentalize. Fear wasn’t an option, and Harry was there. “Can I get some clothing? Minister, I have some questions.”
“Indeed, I’m sure you do, Hermione. However, we should get you clothed and authenticate your person before explanation, hm?” Kingsley asked with a slight curl to his lips.
“That would be appropriate. By everyone’s reaction, I can assume I died,” Hermione scowled slightly and breathed.
Harry shifted uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his head.
“Considering you’ve never been one to sit back and just follow, I will agree with you. You had died. Now, we must clear your authenticity that you are, in fact, Hermione Granger before we move forward,” Kingsley nodded.
Hermione nodded once. “Fair enough, Minister.”
There was a weird, rapid pace of people racing to get things and the escort to Kingsley’s office with her under the blanket once clothed. Once she sat down, a score of wizards and witches began testing her, taking notes of scars and markings and reading her medical records to compare.
Even through the somewhat invasive tests, Harry lingered, only keeping his back turned as he remained in the room. Though flustered at the witches checking her skin and limbs, Hermione allowed the physical part of the exam to take place without complaint. It had to be done, and she would be the last to delay the procedure.
Once she was settled and fed a meal, the questions began. They were simple at first: Name, last known address, and a particular favorite thing of hers. They became more intricate, such as her last romantic partner and most recent rival or opponent.
Kingsley finished writing from her latest question and smiled at her. “So you were approaching twenty, about to start in the ministry, and living in your own flat?”
Hermione knitted her fingers together and cleared her throat. “Minister, we keep circling the same concept. Can I please ask some questions now?”
Harry glanced at Kingsley, and the minister gestured for the others in the room to be dismissed. They left quietly, and Kingsley cleared his throat. “You are missing about four years from your memories, Hermione, including your employment in the Magical Beasts Division and your work in the Magical Laws and Regulations Division.”
Hermione exhaled sharply and frowned. “I see. That’s not ideal. How did I die?”
“Another question we never answered. You were found dead inside your residence. The assumption was a killing curse due to no apparent natural cause,” Kingsley explained.
“I didn’t find any evidence of someone else being there, but it doesn’t mean there wasn’t,” Harry sighed.
Hermione nodded and twitched her nose. “Then, if there was a killer, they were able to get away with my murder.”
“We will handle this with care,” Kingsley mused and slid pages toward Hermione. “I believe you’re authentic. We’re not positive about your reappearance.”
Hermione exhaled as she relaxed in her seat. “Well, there’s nothing that I’ve read about resurrection like this. It defies the logistics of plausible theory and laws of magic. What happened to my body after death?”
“We followed your wishes. You told me you wanted to be cremated before the Battle at Hogwarts,” Harry grumbled and blushed.
Hermione puffed and nodded. “Right and tossed in the ocean. How long has it been since my death?”
Kingsley and Harry glanced at each other in uncertainty. Why did that question seem more difficult than about her death? Hermione frowned slightly.
“Hermione… are you— how are you doing? Are you okay? Is this overwhelming?” Harry asked and took her hand.
Of course, but she wasn’t going to go there. She had to remain focused on the facts. Hermione shook her head. “No, but you’re starting to concern me, Harry.”
“You just— you’re taking this really factually. Has it not hit you that you… died?” He replied with his eyebrows skewed.
Hermione gestured to him with his free hand. “I don’t remember dying, Harry. I don’t remember anything to do with it. As of right now, I’m trying to understand where we’re at in the world currently before I unpack the difficulty of relearning memories I lost before my death.”
“That’s a fair assessment. It’s been five years,” Kingsley declared.
“Five? Hmm, it seems I will have so much to catch up on. My career will be difficult to repair considering my long-term goals,” Hermione grimaced and pressed two fingers to her chin.
“Your career. Hermione— you just—” Harry stopped as the door opened to the minister’s office.
A wizard pushed his torso inside and cleared his throat with a nod.
“Perfect, thank you, Mr. Williams. Please bring in Hippocrates’ recommendations,” Kingsley smiled.
The young man entered, set down the folder on Kingsley’s desk, and nodded to Harry before leaving. Kingsley hummed as he glanced over the folder before pulling out some parchment and writing. He hummed and flicked his quill before meeting Hermione’s gaze.
“It seems we are on the path to getting you resurrected in paperwork, Miss Granger. Hippocrates’ recommendation suggests you head to St. Mungo’s and be evaluated for any maladies or issues—just for a quick review. We must understand precisely how you came to be… again.”
Hermione nodded and breathed. “If that’s what it takes, Minister.”
“You can come stay with Gin and me, Hermione. We have the den we can transform into a room for you,” Harry declared.
“How about you take this one step at a time, Harry? A lot has changed,” Kingsley murmured.
Hermione thinned her lips and shifted on her seat. “Is something wrong?”
“I think… we should tell her, right?” Harry asked as he looked at Kingsley.
Kingsley agreed and breathed. “When you died… your spouse was left a widow. Ronald Weasley has since remarried and moved near the Potters.”
Hermione covered her mouth, raising her eyebrows. “Were we married? That’s a bit of a shock to hear.”
“Yes, and well, he remarried Hermione only a few years ago. He… no one thought you… well, you’re back, and it’s—” Harry stopped fumbling and shook his head.
Hermione exhaled and nodded once. “I’ll process that after what’s most imperative. St. Mungo’s and finding a suitable place to go over the years I’m missing.”
“You’re taking this back-to-life thing incredibly well,” Harry frowned.
“I am— let’s focus on the imperative things,” Hermione breathed.
Kingsley smiled and nodded. “Grounding yourself wouldn’t hurt, considering when news breaks, you will have a large family looking to see you again.”
“Right,” Harry laughed and sighed. “If I don’t tell Ginny immediately, she’ll be quite put out.”
“How’s everyone doing, Harry? The Weasleys, you and Gin—” She stopped when Harry chuckled and patted her leg.
“How about we get you seen by Hippocrates first, and then we can spend the entire afternoon going over updates? I at least need to tell Gin and Ron about you,” Harry sighed.
“Who will tell everyone else? There’s no going around that,” Hermione grumbled and smiled a little.
“True. Molly might try to drag you to the Burrow immediately,” Harry huffed.
“Well, I’d like to avoid that. I believe I need… space to think after this,” Hermione scowled slightly.
Harry nodded and sat up straighter. “Right. Of course. We’ll figure it out, Hermione. Don’t worry about anything. Pretty soon, you’ll be up and going like before.”
Before, Hermione sat on that for a moment, and Kingsley shifted. He could obviously sense her contemplation. Patting the desk, the minister cleared his throat.
“I will meet you both at St. Mungo’s? I need to quell the nervous Unspeakables,” Kingsley smiled.
Harry and Hermione agreed before they used his fireplace to head to St. Mungo’s.
Apparently, there’s plenty to check on a resurrected witch. Hermione was again poked and prodded, but this time by healers and those concerned with her health and welfare instead of authenticity. She had a clean bill of health, which wasn’t surprising to Hermione. She felt great.
They verified she was in her mid-twenties, which checked out. Also, Hippocrates was delighted to tell her that she seemed fit as a fiddle regarding not a curse, malady, or illness at all. There was no sign that she was brought back from the dead or otherwise.
All of that screamed oddly and made no logical sense. Hermione tried to remember if anything like this ever happened in the history books or even in lore without a resurrection stone—not that she could remember.
By the time she was finished, Hermione walked out toward the waiting room to see a massive group. Oh, no. Hermione flattened her hair and swallowed her nervousness just as George turned around. He didn’t shout at the group of red-haired Weasleys waiting but skipped over with a wide grin.
“Well, hello, the ghost of Hogwarts past!” He exclaimed and hugged her tightly.
Hermione snorted and touched his aged face. “Look at you, Georgie. You’re so old now.”
“Me and Freddy are distinguished, not old. Get it right, Hermione,” George winked.
That was when all the chaos broke. Molly, Arthur, and others began clamoring and speaking simultaneously while taking turns hugging Hermione. There were lots of tears. Hermione felt overwhelmed and couldn’t really follow much of the erratic conversations, most of which expressed how much they missed her.
Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Fred stood off to the side talking. Hermione desperately wished she could make it over to them to speak—something less erratic. It felt so loud and unforgiving, and she needed something familiar. Molly, however, held her captive by the arm as she blotted her eyes with a handkerchief.
“You’re coming to stay with us. We’re going to take care of you. I’m so happy and relieved to see you, dear. How we mourned you!” Molly sniffled as the general conversation began on where Hermione would be staying.
“Uh, Mum, just wait a minute,” George huffed and waved his hand. “Angelina and I have space. The kids will be ecstatic.”
“No, she’s going to stay with me and your father. She needs care,” Molly waved her hand.
“Actually—” Hermione tried, but the argument was growing.
“Wait, Harry and I have space,” Ginny said as she walked to the group. “He signed off on her paperwork and takes responsibility until she’s on her feet.”
Hermione huffed and held up her hands. “Stop, everyone, just give me a moment,” she groaned and walked away.
Too much. She needed air. Desperately seeking solace was difficult when everyone wanted to hold her. Hermione scrubbed her face and went down the staircases to the ground floor. She needed room to breathe and think. What was she supposed to do? How did this happen? It was genuinely disheveled and abnormal.
Hermione found her way to the side exit on the bottom floor, puffing and breathing as she found herself in a small patio garden. Her emotions felt stiff and hazy. She closed her eyes and breathed, listening to the birds and the nearby fountain.
The smell of the greenery and flowers tickled her nose. The taste of the tart juice she had up in the examination room had soured on her tongue. Hermione was alive, and part of her felt with an innate certainty that she wasn’t only hours ago. Relief. Her mind felt expanded and then smoothed by the serenity of the garden. Minutes of just breathing and living. She was alive, and that which follows, the again portion, would have to be defined after she had centered.
“So, you want to tell me how you pulled off the greatest prank of all time?”
She smiled and opened her eyes to see Fred perched in a relaxed pose on the bench. “I’m not sure yet. Hello, Freddy.”
“Hey, Ministry Witch, long time no see.” He smiled and patted the bench. Come on. Sit with me for a minute. Our barmy family is likely to end up dragging you to Mum’s.”
Hermione inhaled and moved to sit next to Fred. “It’s nice out here.”
“It is. How was your appointment?” He asked.
Hermione groaned and waved her hand. “You know, there’s nothing remotely wrong with me. Aside from appearing in the Death Chamber right beside the veil, coming back from the dead even when my body was ashes and tossed into the ocean, it’s too much. Hippocrates said I’ll likely feel overwhelmed or emotionally uneven for a while.”
“Are you? I mean, aside from like you were before, that is,” Fred hummed and waved his fingers in the air with a smile.
She snorted and shook her head. “I’m not sure. There are tons of things to review. Everyone is so old now. Were you nominated to come find me?”
“No, I just felt I knew where you were going. Everyone else assumed you went to the bathroom or out front,” Fred mused.
Hermione frowned as she turned to look at him. “Freddy, how have you been? What have you been up to since the final battle?”
Fred exhaled and scratched his chin. “Well, we opened a shop in Hogsmeade two years after that. I mostly manage that one because Georgie has the kids, and Ron helps trade weekends with me. Well, until he and Padma went up in the duff,” he winced and cleared his throat. Uh, yeah, I probably should have let Harry do that bit of updating.”
Hermione scrunched her nose. “We were married for how long? Kingsley and Harry told me we were.”
He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah. A year. What a year that was.”
“I take it we weren’t ideal?” Hermione frowned.
Fred ducked closer to her like he was telling her a secret. “He complained a bit. You were always busy with work. I, personally, never thought you both would last. No offense to my little brother, but he struggled not to be your center of attention. You were a dizzy tornado of legislation.”
“I remember us dating a bit when I went back, but I’m surprised it was… like that,” Hermione hummed and exhaled. “Maybe I’m just a bit out of sorts. I don’t feel upset for myself yet. His new marriage and such. I might if my memories ever come back, but I don’t know. I feel… open. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe it does. Harry came back a little different, too,” Fred sighed and smiled. It’s okay not to be anything right now. You’re back; that’s all that matters. You’re alive again. You just need to be you, whoever that is right now, Hermione.”
Good,” she smiled and laughed softly before grimacing. I really don’t want to live with your mother henning me. I feel like that might just be a disaster. Anyone, really. I need time to figure out everything before diving into family dynamics again.”
“Yeah, that sounds unideal,” Fred agreed and patted her back gently.
Hermione chewed her lower lip and glanced down. “If Ron and I were married, I likely wouldn’t have any money left in my vault. I’ll have to figure that out.”
“Hey, if you want to stay at the flat above the shop in Diagon Alley, I have an empty room since Georgie left. It’s just been storage, really. I imagine you might want some peace and quiet to get back in the water. I work daily but I’ll keep the fridge stocked if you stay. You don’t need to worry about being bothered or rent; you’re just a staircase away from the shop if you need anything,” Fred smiled and shrugged.
A voice cleared, drawing their attention. Ginny had her hands on her hips and was scowling. Fred straightened his position and waved.
“Why didn’t you bring her back inside, Fred?” Ginny asked.
“We were just taking a breath,” Fred replied and stood up.
“Well, Mum argued with Harry and ultimately lost. We’re bringing her back to our place. Harry wants to get her situated and some clothes,” Ginny declared.
“You and Harry got your hands full, sister. Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Fred asked as he ran a hand through his hair.
Ginny nodded and shifted. “Yes, Fred. Harry wants to help Hermione adjust and is responsible for her.”
Hermione climbed to her feet and cleared her throat. “Uh, Ginny, Fred mentioned he had a spare room. I think… in light of everything, it might be a good idea for me to stay in it. I won’t be inconveniencing anyone and can have some space to… acclimate.”
Ginny huffed and shifted on her feed. “But Harry wants to make sure you’re alright, Hermione.”
“I can keep the floo open. I just thought, if she needs a room and a chance to rebuild, it wouldn’t be a bad thing,” Fred declared, rubbing his neck.
“Right,” Ginny frowned. “Fred, can you give us a minute alone?”
Fred nodded and glanced at Hermione with a smile. “Don’t worry if you feel a bit barmy. It evens the playing field for us old gits like me.” He winked and moved toward the entrance.
Hermione exhaled and glanced at the fountain. She would have been thirty. Instead, she was in her mid-twenties and a bit dumbfounded by how she was going to fit into a life that had moved on from her. Her life and trajectory would have been completely different. She died and somehow poofed back into existence.
“How are you feeling?”
Hermione glanced back at Ginny and shrugged. “I don’t know. I feel… different, I suppose.”
“Harry said you haven’t cried or shouted,” Ginny rolled her lips. “You can talk to me. We’ve always been honest with each other.”
Hermione smiled helplessly and shrugged. “I don’t know, Ginny. I don’t know if I will or if it will happen suddenly. Hours ago, I was naked in front of the veil. I don’t remember anything past graduating and the party.”
“Remember when Fred and George pelted us with red and gold paint-filled balloons during the party?” Ginny laughed and sighed.
“Oh! That was ridiculous. Only they could make scented and edible magical paint so Teddy wouldn’t get sick if he was covered in their attack,” Hermione giggled and sighed. “Fred dipped a biscuit in the paint on your hair.”
“They were a menace even after. Ron was so annoyed that for your birthday one year, they hexed your cake to sing to you before spitting frosting all over you and the dress Ron just bought you,” Ginny declared with a smile.
“I’m looking forward to hearing about more of these memories,” Hermione replied.
Ginny exhaled and wiped the tear trail from her face. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, Gin. Did you and Harry have children?” Hermione asked.
Ginny nodded and smiled. “I just had Lily a few months ago. She is our last. James and Albus miss you every day.”
“I’ll be happy to meet them again,” Hermione replied and rubbed her cheek.
“We should get back inside. Mum wants to at least make dinner for everyone to celebrate your reappearance,” Ginny mumbled and smiled.
Hermione breathed and nodded. “I guess I don’t have much say over that. If I decline, she might hunt me down and drag me back to the Burrow.”
“Likely,” Ginny laughed and scooped Hermione under her arm. “We have all the time in the world to catch up.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Hermione agreed, and they went inside.