The Long Road Home

By Jenna Black

I walked into the office and took a look around. It was the same as it was every other day, people were rushing by, papers were scattered about, and the office was humming with the noise of 50 old computers.

Same as always, but not.

Odd, I thought. I sat at my desk and reached up to pluck a pencil from ear, but there was no pencil there. My hair was not the short bob that it had been; instead it was long and frizzy, flowing down my back. I pull a section to my face and nearly scream. Instead of the jet black it's been for the past 8 years, it was my natural chocolate brown. I look down at my outfit, hoping against hope to see a business suit.

Instead of the smart suit I usually wear, I am covered by bulky robes with a Hogwarts crest on them instead.

My hand moves to my waist and I feel my wand resting in its pocket.

Damn

I hate it when I have these dreams. I left the world of magic and now it won't leave me be. Taking a deep breath to calm down I sit back in my chair. If I've got to be awake in my dream I am at least going to read a little. I pick up the paper and nearly drop it in shock.

Albus Dumbledore is waving at me.

He's got one of those really annoying smiles of all knowing tranquility. The headline above says he is dead. I look back into his eyes and am forcibly reminded of the only other dream I've had that was this intense. It was nearly five years ago, and almost the same thing happened. Only instead of being at the office, I was in my small flat; and instead of Dumbledore's smiling face in the picture, it was of Hogwarts burning in the distance. When I had awakened from that dream, I re-entered the wizarding world just long enough to see if it was true. It had been. I look back at Dumbledore's smiling face and my vision wavers as tears fill my eyes. I blink them back. I will not cry.

Get it together Hermione I say to myself.

"You know child, if you were to go back, you would be welcome." He said. Jesus! I had forgotten that some wizarding photos could talk. He repeats what he said.

I can't. I say,shaking my head as I speak. Too much time has passed and too many things have happened.

"You're right." He admits, "A lot has happened. But it is never too late to go back."

Maybe not for others, I retort but for me it is.

"It is not." He says kindly, before adding, "Do you really think you would be having this dream if it were? You are a witch, Hermione; in your body, in your spirit, and in your soul. It is time you stopped denying it."

It hurts too much. I speak as I turn around to look away from the picture. I can't go back. You might forgive me for what I did, but others can't.

"Yes they can." He says, emphasizing what he says with his hands. "What you did was bad, yes. Not unforgivable. They understand."

No they don't! I say while spinning around to look at him. They can't!

"Yes they can!" He replies as forcefully as she spoke. "You are not the only one who has left a friend in need."

No one else left Ron to die! I say, wiping a stray tear from my eye. That was me, and I… I can't go back to that world.

"You can't keep running from it." He replies, as close to exasperated I had ever seen him. "These things have a habit of sneaking up on you, whether you want them to or not." Taking a breath, he returned to the image of Santa Clause. "You've been running for years. Soon it will be time to face it."

Not now. I say tiredly. Not today.

"Maybe so," He said, "but soon. Face it on your terms," He stressed. "Not it's."

I can't. I cry out. It hurts too much to face it.

"Can you honestly say it doesn't hurt to run?" He speaks. I can almost feel him spinning me around and turning up my chin to make me listen. "When you face it, because you will, it will hurt, more than you can imagine." He says harshly, softening, he adds. "But then the pain will ease. In the past 10 years, has the pain you feel now eased?"

Stop doing that. I say, shaking my head. You make it seem as if I have no other option.

"You don't" He states bluntly.

Yes I do. I say. I can ignore you. I can ignore this dream.

"You're right, I suppose you can," He says shrugging, "but you still won't have a choice."

How do you know? I ask, the anger bubbling beneath the surface again.

Tired of my hostility, he finally reacts. "For the thousands of years the wizarding world has been around, you really don't think you are the first person to leave it? Others have run, and everyone who has had to face it!"

I'm different. I reply, full of righteous anger. I won't.

"You are different." He admits, but adds even more forcefully. "But you will still. An event as small as my death would not trigger a dream such as this. The wizarding world is crying out for your help." He adds looking me straight in the face. "Can you really ignore it?"

Maybe not, I reply, turning away, but I can certainly try.

"Then you are not the person I thought you were." He says, turning his picture away from me.

Hasn't the past ten years proven that! I scream. I am a muggle now, not a witch! If not in blood, than at least in my mind!

"If that were true" he said, turning around to face me. "How would I be here?"

I'm having a dream. I reply, reaching up and picking up the paper. It was time for this to end. I have them all the time. Big deal. At that I grab the edges of the paper, and promptly rip it in half.

With the last strength of the magical paper, I hear in my head. "But this is more than a normal dream. If it were, would you remember it?"

And with that, darkness overtook me.