CHAPTER FOUR

Superventions

A/N: The last chapter had done exceedingly well, much to my joy, and I thank all of you for that. I've been having a lot of fun writing this story and cannot wait to progress further. I originally had the genres for this fic labeled as Romance/Adventure, but as of the publication of this chapter, I'll be changing it to Romance/Mystery. I feel like it makes more sense due to Hermione's experiences with the unexplainable.

Anyway, enough of my blabbering. I spent a lot more time writing this chapter than usual and I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 4: Superventions

The zephyr of the lower stratosphere allowed for a long-awaited fog to coat his surroundings. Harry, mounted upon his record-breaking Firebolt, felt an overwhelming sense of tranquility soothe the chaotic state of his mind. He'd been zooming over the Quidditch Pitch for a while now, testing the limits of his airborne agility. Having finally decided to cut himself a break, Harry darted for and broke into the clouds, then coming to a stop to hover over him. He could feel the fluorescence of the setting Sun caress his pale cheeks with its warm, illuminated arms, giving him the comfort he so desperately craved. Harry found his mind taking strolls frequently as of late, and his daily life had taken a toll. The subject of these sporadic thoughts made him somewhat addled.

The bushy-haired brunette. There was something very off about her, but just what exactly was the very thing that bothered Harry so.

As the moisture of the clouds tickled his shoes and his body hummed and buzzed from the speed he had been flying in, Harry tried to surmise a possible explanation for the girl's oddities. For example, Harry had seen the brunette every day, always during meals. She never sat and conversed with another peer, but choose to hone in on a book or tome that seemingly plucked her from the real world. However, this was one of the only instances in which Harry would see her. She was never in any of the required classes besides History of Magic, despite having learned she was in the same year as him. She never mingled about the Common Room, nor did she share a dormitory with anybody.

In short, this girl was quite mysterious; mysterious enough to trigger some deep-rooted spirit of inquiry within Harry.

He knew that he should just go with a friendly, standard approach. All he had to do was make conversation with the brunette, and politely ask these nagging questions of his. However, this was an act of such unnerve that made Voldemort seem like an impish little labradoodle, and it frustrated Harry to no end. He was supposed to be a Gryffindor, with the heart of a lion! And yet, at the moment, Harry felt more like a newborn cub than anything.

"What is wrong with me?" Harry asked the sky which got darker the higher he looked. The Sun would be gone in only a few moments. At the thought, Harry suddenly recalled a conversation he shared with Dumbledore a week ago, the other topic that shadowed his mind.

Harry had been sent a letter from Dumbledore that afternoon, inviting him to, what he called, 'a friendly chat,' and had not expressed any sense of urgency. Harry, knowing he had nothing more constructive to do that evening, decided to take up the Headmaster on his request, and later found himself squeezing through his grand office door.

"You wanted to see me, professor?"

"Indeed, Harry," he smiled, motioning for Harry to take a seat in front of his desk. The elderly man hadn't turned to look at him first but was instead gazing intently towards the sky. "I thought it might be best to check up on you. The holidays, as you know, have passed without any… climatic affairs," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "We'd usually have conversed by now."

Harry frowned slightly, fearing that Dumbledore was going to express some bad news, but got none, much to his surprise.

"So, let me ask you this: How have you been?" Harry's head snapped up to level with the Headmaster's compassionate gaze at the question. It was surprising, to say the least, to hear Dumbledore take such an interest in his life. However, Harry supposed he was right; they usually would've been discussing something life-threatening by now. That just hadn't happened this year… yet.

After realizing he'd gone unspoken for a moment, Harry unhinged his jaw. "I've been… fine. I think." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in continuity. "I've just been a bit distracted lately. I'm not sure why." Knowing that his lies were futile in the eyes of this master wizard, Harry concluded that it was best to shut his trap and let Dumbledore do some talking.

"Harry, might I inquire," Dumbledore started, heading back to the window, "Do you know why the Sun rises and falls with the passing of each day? And why we face the cycle of seasons?" This was definitely not what Harry had expected to hear.

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard correctly."

Harry squinted at the facile question, but choose not to hesitate with the answer. "Er, because the Earth spins, specifically on a tilt?"

Harry could see Dumbledore smile at his answer, before turning back around to face the befuddled teen. "Ah, I've always been envious of muggle understandings. Those of the magical kind, I'm afraid, have always remained generally ignorant in regards to the scientific."

"Sir, I don't mean to pry, or anything," Harry began, watching as the Headmaster crossed the room, "but why do you ask?" Dumbledore waved his wand and lit a few candles in the corner of the room. He stretched out an arm, his hand almost petting one of their flames.

"If I were to summon a pureblood peer of yours, right this moment, and had presented them with the same question I asked you, what do you think they would respond with?" Dumbledore asked, continuing to play with the fire, as though entranced by its heat. Harry hadn't ever thought about such a thing. The magical world didn't care for science and such.

"I mean, they probably wouldn't know," Harry shrugged, "They don't really need to know that stuff like muggles do. We have magic." Dumbledore chuckled in his throat at the response, although not mockingly. It was more as though such an answer was expected.

"If a pureblood witch or wizard were to be asked why the Sun rises and falls, you'd probably be right. They wouldn't know… but if they were to make a guess?"

Harry thought to himself on that for a moment. "Well, I suppose from here, it looks like the Sun revolves around the Earth… sir, I'm not sure I'm following you here."

Dumbledore finally stepped away from the fire, which died instantly. "No, Harry, you're right on track," he smiled, eventually taking a seat across from Harry. His eyes glimmered of importance, passion, as though to demand the young wizard's attention. "Our entire world, both magical and muggle, is developed and constructed at the forefront of perspective. The Statute of Secrecy, as you have learned, was officially put into full effect in 1689. It, in itself, as a result of two different perspectives unable to come together as one."

In simpler times, Muggles and Magicals both assumed the Sun revolved around the Earth. Eventually, Muggles realized it was the other way around the entire time. And this new fact was only a fraction of what the muggles would come to discover. With time, their science would challenge our magic, and our magic would challenge their science. It's all a matter of perspective, Harry."

Harry hadn't any trouble understanding the Headmaster with this. It made sense, why the Magicals and Muggles always clashed. However, Harry still had one more question to ask.

"That makes sense, but I'm still confused, sir. Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because, Harry," Dumbledore gave a satisfied sigh and grinned even wider, "I believe, for the first time in centuries, these perspectives are starting to align. A new age is dawning with every morn, one that will shift the tides of our world forever, dragging Voldemort to his demise in the undertow. The moon pulls mightily, our oceans answers its call. You, Harry, must be ready. For like the moon and the sea, this revolution will beckon you, and the forces of our universe will inevitably have you supervene."

4-THERESNOSUCHTHINGAS-4

A week had passed since Hermione woke from her coma, and things couldn't be stranger.

The night proceeding the so-called "attack" on Dr. Manners, who still hadn't returned, was sleepless and nonsensically phantasmal. Hermione had sobbed in pain in anguish, the realization of her mother's death climbing up her spine as though her back was being rubbed by cold, rough hands. The machines on either side of her would often flicker, going commonly unnoticed during her state of duress. She had wanted to lash out in anger at some points but had nothing to target, and no strength to do so regardless. Her body was numbed by the culmination of physical and emotional inflictions. The whole night went by in a forgotten and lengthy blur.

That morning, although Hermione's body craving rest, she was fortunate to receive a visit from her father. He had endured far more injuries than her, but weren't as severe, according to the doctors. Daniel had wheeled in her room in a wheelchair, both legs shattered in the accident. The doctor who had approached Hermione's side after Manners was knocked out, Dr. Barton, had explained to both Grangers that Dan was likely to develop a limp in his right leg, but would otherwise be capable of walking after some physical therapy.

Hermione and Dan weren't allowed to chat for too long and had barely mentioned Emma the entire time. Hermione could tell whenever he was thinking of her mother; the pain that radiated from his eyes made him look so much emptier than usual. Dan still tried to lighten this gloomy and hollow mood with his humor, but even that became overshadowed by recent events. Hermione started to realize that everything seemed to lack purity and began to wonder if that would ever return.

The week had progressed with a terrible mix of emotions. Hermione and her father still weren't able to visit one another all that much and had yet to thoroughly discuss Emma. She had a feeling Dan was trying to avoid it for the time being. He'd loved this woman for almost two decades, and now, with the drop of a dime, she was gone. He wouldn't be as accepting of the fact as Hermione had been, and that was honestly saying something.

Fortunately, Hermione was provided with a distraction of sorts. As time passed, her hospital room became the epicenter for freaky electrical phenomena. Initially, many of the machines, including the EKG hooked up to her, had started to break down completely. The doctors would replace one device, and an hour later, a different one would fail. They consulted with electricians, who explained that these failures might be due to a circuiting problem with her room, resulting in Hermione being moved to her third hospital room in under a week.

Naturally, this did nothing to solve the problem. If anything, it got worse.

After spending only 45 minutes in her new room, all the ceiling lights had suddenly taken to dimming out until they all died out. Dr. Barton had been with Hermione at the time, and she could sense his frustration begin to build. To be fair, she was starting to get frustrated herself. Seeing as Hermione couldn't be tended to in a dimly lit room, they had just decided to move her back to the previous one, and use battery-operated equipment instead.

All those batteries wound up frying.

Now, it could've been that there was something wrong with the entire electrical system on the third floor, but that didn't add up. None of the other patients' rooms had been experiencing electrical issues, just Hermione's. And on top of that, how does one explain the frying batteries? Someone had been sent to test the shipment of batteries of which the fried ones had come from, and everything worked fine. Dr. Barton, having no other sensible option, claimed he would be making another call to the electrical company to have someone check everything, and said that an electrician would be coming to her room the following day. That day, in fact, was today.

It was almost noon. Hermione had just been moved back to her room after receiving the ultrasound to check for the internal bleeding and was greeted with the sight of an elder man examining his surroundings. Hermione thought he looked rather… out of place. He had very long white hair, extending from both his head and the loosely braided beard that fell past his stomach. He donned the typical electrician's coveralls, a dominant navy blue that contrasted his long locks. He had eyes of wisdom, shielded by the half-moon spectacles that rested upon the bridge of his nose.

As Hermione was wheeled in, the old man hadn't taken his eyes off whatever he'd been taking a look at, but politely moved out of the way to give the nurses leeway. After the nurses hooked everything back up, one of them announced that the man was the electrician and whatnot, and then vacated the room. Hermione simply watched as the man waltzed about the place, doing nothing that seemed principally electrical, and then finally gave a glance at her. She almost gasped aloud at the sight of the old man's eyes, which appeared to be twinkling. He gave a friendly smile.

"I will say, Ms. Granger, that I've never witnessed such a spectacle in all my years." The old man's voice was very soft and calm. Hermione, at first confused with why he knew her name, relaxed a bit when he finished speaking, coming to the impression that the doctors had explained the scenario more in-depth than she initially thought. Examining his suit more closely, Hermione hoped to find the name of the old man, wanting to show some decency and respect, but couldn't find a tag anywhere, oddly enough.

"I've also heard that you've been through quite the ordeal," the old man continued with sedative, "and that you're quite the… anomaly in the hospital. How have you been?"

Hermione blinked a few times before summoning a response, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but I thought you were electrician?" The old man chuckled again, and Hermione could've sworn his eyes sparkled.

"Forgive me, Ms. Granger, I'm afraid I've become rather curious with my old age. I had just become concerned after hearing about your situation. I don't mean to pry."

Hermione let her eyes relax, a bit ashamed at her behavior. "Sorry, I guess I've just been asked that question a lot recently," she admitted, causing the old man to nod with understanding, "I feel like I'm stuck in the Twilight Zone, to put it bluntly." The old man didn't seem to comprehend what that meant, somehow, "Ya know, like a fever dream of sorts." He nodded at that.

"As anyone would expect, given the current state of things."

Hermione scoffed uncontrollably, "It's like I have some sort of demon haunting me."

"Oh, is that so?" The old man urged.

"How else am I supposed to explain everything?" Hermione nodded her head with a sense of forfeit, "First, I wake up from a coma and am told that my mother died, then someone attacked my bloody doctor and mysteriously vanished all while I'm having another fit, then the cameras go dead, so nobody can truly know what happened, and then all the electrical shite stops working, then—" Hermione stopped herself short, feeling the frustration bubbling within her. She cast another apologetic glance to the old man who still hadn't averted his gaze. He seemed to be examining her more than he had been the room.

"If you don't mind my asking, Ms. Granger, do you know what happened during your coma?" The sudden slight shift in topic threw Hermione off for a moment, but she eventually was able to ponder on it.

"Well, that wasn't much less abnormal, funnily enough. My chest—" Hermione placed a hand below the left side of her ribs, "the doctors said I'd almost died from blood loss. They had to give me blood, I was so low. Then I started having seizures, which somehow caused fevers. I— It doesn't make much sense, I know. I wish it did."

The old man turned rather serious then, but gave Hermione a warm look of sympathy. He hadn't replied for a moment or two, but instead took to pacing around her hospital room, seemingly lost in thought. Hermione watched his movements, noting that she did something similar when debating ideas in her own head. She could see the gears crank and turn in the old man's head, and Hermione suddenly felt curious herself.t

"Do you know what's wrong with the room?"

The old man looked up at her, as though only remembering she was still there and putting on his friendly demeanor again. He sighed, nodded to himself, and replied.

"There's nothing wrong with the room, Ms. Granger."

Hermione creased her brows in confusion, "But the machines… and the lights—"

"Yes, these things are breaking, but it has little to do with the room."

"Then why..?" As Hermione trailed off, the old man conjured a steely expression, pursing his lips. He seemed hesitant to answer her question, as though he'd been holding some sort of secret.

"Ms. Granger, do you know who's blood was given to you upon your arrival at the hospital?" the old man asked, ignoring her question. Hermione wasn't expecting this either, naturally, and felt a bit appalled. She wondered for a moment if this was some strange joke, but the old man appeared incredibly intense.

"Um, no. I'm not sure doctors are allowed to give any names when it comes to that stuff," Hermione stuttered, and the old man nodded his head as though expecting such an answer. "Why do you ask?" she finished, but not before quickly adding, "They tested the blood, and it came back clean, in case you thought there was something wrong with it."

The old man didn't answer that question: "Can you tell me anything about this 'attack' on your previous doctor?"

"Are you a cop or something?" Hermione burst, unable to control it anymore. This apparent electrician was acting too odd for her liking, and the old man's calm questions started to feel more like an interrogation than anything. Something was most definitely fishy here, but Hermione had no idea what. "Why all the interrogatives? And why haven't you answered any of mine, for that matter?"

The old man smiled, unsurprisingly, and began to twirl with his beard. "I apologize, Ms. Granger. Just allow me to ask one more question, and I promise I will proceed to yours after that."

Hermione sighed in exasperation and shrugged her shoulders.

The old man's eyes shimmered through his spectacles once again. "Ms. Granger, do you believe in magic?"

-4-THERESNOSUCHTHINGAS-4-

Harry had left the Quidditch Pitch feeling much more relaxed than he had prior. The intensity of his week had left a residual dull ache in the back of his head, but he felt fine otherwise. The sky had turned a purple hue, and the stars shone with beauty. Harry had wished he could just stare at it all forever. One didn't get views like this in most of the muggle world. Especially Little Whinging.

Sighing, Harry walked into the magnificent Hogwarts castle, leaving the clarity of the outdoors behind him. Curfew was only ten minutes away, and Harry didn't need another detention at the moment.

As he was rounding another corner, Harry felt himself slam into another body, both of them tumbling to the ground. He heard the individual's things go sprawling all over the stony floor, ending with them emitting a short squeal. Before even coming to his senses properly, Harry had started launching apologies and went to try picking up their things. He hadn't even realized how blind he was without his glasses, which he just realized flew off his face when falling.

The person he collided with, her voice most undoubtedly female, started to dismiss his apologizes, before cutting herself short mid-sentence. Harry hadn't been paying much attention, for he shifted a pile of books in the direction of the individual and began scrounging for his glasses. He barely noticed the shy "thank you" that was uttered, followed by the distancing sound of shuffling feet. It was only two irritating minutes later that Harry managed to find his glasses resting in the corner of an alcove. Somehow, they hadn't cracked, and Harry quickly shoved them back on.

He looked around to find an empty hall, the individual nowhere in sight. Harry was starting to feel a bit irritated, but he became distracted with something nestled in the dimly lit corner opposite him. Upon walking closer, Harry found a decently large leather book lying there, the cover face-down. Picking it up, he was greeted with a copy of Hogwarts, A History coated in a thin sheet of dust.

'That girl must've dropped it,' Harry instantly realized. He took another look down the halls, still no finding anyone in sight. Sighing slightly in defeat, Harry decided to take the book with him back to the Common Room.

A few minutes later, and only seconds from curfew, Harry entered the Common Room. Other than a few other younger students and Ron, the chamber was empty, the sound of the crackling fire audible from even the entrance. Harry approached his best friend without a greeting. Ron examined him, his eyes almost immediately landing on the book nestled in his arm.

"Since when did you read?" he asked, turning his eyes back down to the chessboard he'd been playing.

Harry put said book down by his side. "First off, I do read, believe it or not. Second, this one isn't mine. Somebody dropped it."

Although not taking his primary focus off his game of chess, Ron put on a bemused look. "Somebody dropped that mammoth of a book and didn't notice?"

"Well, I sort of ran into them. They had a lot of other things, mostly books, with them as well. This one just flew into a corner."

"Who'd ya trample?" Ron snorted, just before ordering another chess piece to move.

"Funny you should ask, cause I don't know." A knight was destroyed at that moment, and Ron looked up.

"You don't know?"

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "Well, the thing is, we actually ran into each other, and I fell myself. I lost my glasses, and they ran off before I could see anything."

Once again, Ron snorted, causing Harry to scowl just a bit.

"What're you gonna do with that, then?" Ron intrigued after a moment of silence. Harry glanced down at the book for a second, sighing.

"I don't know. I'll probably just ask Madame Pince to see who checked it out tomorrow." Ron nodded, and then gasped to himself, suddenly diverting his attention back to the game of chess he had apparently forgotten about. Harry allowed himself a silent snicker at that, but suddenly lost, staring down at the book beside him. His thoughts started to go back to his encounter with Dumbledore again, still trying to decipher that allegorical mess he'd been provided with.

Turning to stare at the flickering flames of the hearth, Harry's mind eased. Like the sky, the fire was easy to get lost in. And somehow, thinking back to the tome by his thigh, Harry realized that it too was easy to get lost in. Abandoning the flames, he turned back to stare at the cover of this leather book, and let his mind wander into itself.

A/N: I'd like to thank everyone for reading once again! I took a bit more time with this one than usual, and I hope it turned out okay. I really wanted to have Dumbledore be the wise individual I'd always made him out to be, so that's what I went for. I hope the situation with Hermione is being explained well enough. Do let me know!

Also, the next chapter will probably have to wait another week and a half. The Last of Us: Part II releases under five days from now, and I'm going to be spending tons of time playing that, so do forgive me!

Thanks for reading,

A fellow reader and writer