[01. the sole survivor]

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Hermione Granger walked out of the patient's room, walking over to the counter and leaning against it as she filled out some forms. "Our patient in room 201 reminds me of Seamus Finnigan more and more every day." She commented to Hannah Abbott as she chuckled softly.

"Again?" The petite blonde asked as she giggled softly. "What year is he?"

"A fourth year," Hermione responded with a smile. "Mhm, those were the good old days, huh?" She asked, nostalgically staring at room 201. "We were so young ..."

Hannah Abbott heaved a heavy sigh as she nodded slowly. "We were," She muttered and shrugged. "And now we're here." She said with a chuckle as she bumped shoulders with Hermione. "Oh, Hermione, let's quit talking about how old we are now." The gentle blonde said with a grin. "We're only twenty two, we aren't that old."

The gorgeous brunette nodded as she bit her bottom lip. Where had the time gone by? It felt just like yesterday when she fought alongside Harry and Ron against Voldemort. But now, Harry was too busy as the Head of the Auror Office and Ron and Ginny as fellow Aurors. One day, life simply just got in the way and now they rarely talked to each other. She felt alone. She had been offered a job as an Auror after the war, Harry and Ron immediately took it, but she didn't. She wanted to do something else. After having seen the horrible aftermath of the war and all the injured and deceased, she wanted to help them. And so, she declined the offer and became a Healer instead.

But every decision comes with a price.

"Yeah, I suppose so." Hermione said after a while and signed the sheet of paper. "Could you give this to the nurse? I'm going to go check up on some other patients."

"Of course," Hannah replied, taking the paper.

Hermione walked away and made her way to the fourth floor to a patient who had recently been hit with four stunning spells. Just as she turned a corner, she heard a soft noise behind her. Must be Mr. Wellings again, she thought mindlessly as she rolled her eyes. He was a grumpy old man who terrorized the nurses and Healers because he had nothing better to do.

As she walked down the long, empty hallway, she felt a strange brush of cold wind. Furrowing her eyebrows, she came to a halt. It was silent, too silent. Just as she turned around, a flash of blue light barely missed her as it hit the concrete wall beside her, the wall exploding into pieces. She immediately fell to the ground from the impact of a broken piece slamming into her head.

Suddenly, people began to scream and run around the hall clumsily.

Hermione tried to get up but fell back to the ground, feeling dizzy with her vision disoriented. She looked at the ground to see a small pool of crimson, red blood and groaned, reaching up and touching the back of her head. Her hands were bloody. I have to call for help. Hermione thought as she looked up to see flashes of green and red lights emitting from almost every room. Her eyes widened as she struggled to get up.

Managing to get up, she leaned against the broken wall and reached for her wand from her robe. She tried to take a step but immediately felt dizzy from the blunt force on her head. But she fought back. There was a group of men in all black, torturing and murdering the patients all in cold blood. It wasn't until she saw a man cloaked in black and wearing a white mask step out of a room that made her feel as if she was brought back to the battle at Hogwarts.

"Who are you?" She immediately questioned firmly, wielding her wand at the mysterious perpetrator.

The man let out a deep chuckle as he walked towards her slowly. "Your worst nightmare," He said in a menacing tone as he whipped out his wand, shooting a nonverbal spell.

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