2: Lost

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Hermione waited. Upon waking to find no one but Healer Dagworth standing beside her lumpy bed with numerous potions in his hands and laid out on the stand beside him she felt a pang of hurt deep in her heart. She drank potion after potion, laid in that bed with nothing to occupy her mind and watched the door. Minutes turned to hours. Hours turned to days, days turned into a week, she laid there feeling her body stitch itself back together and bones regrow under her muscles. It was only after a week of healing and being pulled under by the bitter tasting darkness of the dreamless sleep every few hours that she finally came to accept that her boys were not coming.

Healer Dagworth swished his wand over her and began to look at the comprehensive diagnosis charm, "Congratulations! It appears that your vocal folds have officially been healed enough to speak as of today. Your various factures and torn musculature are also shaping up nicely too! Now my main concern is getting the rest of that nasty curse out of your system. Your magic and nutrient levels are still concerningly low, but I imagine that is due to having to fight off the curse. No worries though, the treatment seems to be working and we're about a third of the way through it." With a quick flick of his wand, the hovering information darted into the small journal he held open in his free hand.

"Wand." Hermione croaked, her own voice sounded foreign to her from its disuse, so scratchy and dull.

Dagworth simply handed her a large glass of water. "I shall send a message to the headmaster. How are you feeling though in the meantime? Tired? Any aches or pains?"

Hermione leveled a questioning gaze at the man, "With all due respect sir, I slept for almost an entire week. As for pain, I don't need any more pain potion. I wish to keep my wits about me."

The blonde chuckled at her response and nodded then turned to write something on a slip of paper. Hermione watched him as he finished writing and the paper burst into a soft puff of flame. "I'm sure you have many questions. But I would recommend waiting for Dumbledore to get here that way, we can reduce the strain on your voice and won't have to repeat yourself." Hermione nodded and looked towards the door once more, "I sent him a notice that you have woken up but I don't know how long it will be until he arrives. Perhaps in the meantime, a paper would help answer any questions that have to do with the past week on the outside world."

Hermione felt the weight of the paper on her blanket covered lap and looked at it, starved for information. THIRTEEN DEAD AFTER LATEST ATTACK: DEATHEATERS ON THE RISE Page 10. A tight ball of emotion welled up in Hermione's throat as she looked at the headline of the Daily Prophet. They didn't win. Quickly flicking to the page, her eyes drank in the words the stone of dread in her stomach growing heavier with each letter on the crisp page. Her eyes ran along the list of names of the people that were lost at the bottom of the page. Until one name caught her eye, McKinnon. Elias McKinnon, Charlotte McKinnon.

Furrowing her brow she read over the list of names again. That can't be right, the McKinnon house was all lost in the first war. Hermione racked her brain to remember the talks she had with Professor Lupin late at night back in Grimmauld Place. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for the two to be found sitting by a dying fire late at night with tea in their hands either reading or occasionally talking about various topics. When they couldn't sleep he would sit with her and they would try keeping their minds off the brewing war. He would tell stories of how Hogwarts was without trolls in bathrooms or escaped convicts breaking in dorms. "Such a shame how the war took so many." He said, "Whole families wiped out. McKinnons, Meadowes, Blacks."

Hermione flipped through the rest of the Prophet skimming for reasoning. Returning to the front she gazed at the date: 6 August 1977. "Healer Dagworth?" she called looking over to the door that held his quarters. Immediately he strode out of the door and towards her. "Is this the most recent paper?"

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