A/N: Okay, I must admit, this story is going a little better than I expected…thanks for all the kind reviews, readers! You keep me doing this! And yes, as you probably expected, the switch happened in the last chapter…*dramatic music* Hehe. Boy, am I going to have FUN writing this chapter!
And I will be changing POV between Ron and Hermione periodically. A * will signal a POV change, as you should remember from Opposing Magic (if you've read it…if you haven't, BAD, BAD READER! GO READ WHEN DONE WITH THIS!)
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Chapter Three
Hermione woke with an unbelievable migraine the next morning. Her head was throbbing like it was on fire and, she realized, her whole body felt numb as if she had just fallen several hundred feet. On top of that, her pillow was unusually hard, which added to the discomfort of her head. Her eyelids were heavy and did not want to open but Hermione could feel the sunlight beating against them; she knew it was morning and time to get up for another day of classes. If she was going to lie about in bed all day, her whole study-for-exams schedule would be ruined.
She rolled over in bed to face what she thought was the window and slowly opened her eyes. Her room was brighter than it usually was and it took several minutes until her eyes were fully adjusted to the lighting in the room. Hermione stared out the window at the sun in the blue, cloudless sky, hovering above the lake, casting rays down every which way, bouncing off trees, shimmering across the water, spreading a warmth throughout her body –
Wait a minute, Hermione thought. I don't have a window near my bed!
Confused, Hermione rolled over. She had been sure this was her room. She remembered falling down on top of her bed after detention last night! But the beds next to her were empty and unfamiliarly messy. Parvati and Lavender never left their beds with the sheets strewn across them like that. Such prissy girls as them always made sure their beds were perfect before leaving. Either they both had a change of heart or something was very, very wrong.
Hermione continued examining her room. The décor was different, too. Who put up that West Ham soccer poster? Where did these orange bed sheets come from? Why did Parvati and Lavender decide to redecorate in the middle of the night? Perhaps they were playing a great big joke on Hermione. But if so, what was their motive? Driving Hermione mad with ugly posters and bed sheets? It seemed absurd.
Hermione instinctively reached to her bedside table where she had left her newest and most favorite book, A History of Little Creatures: Including Doxies, Gnomes, and House-Elves. She planned on reading it during breakfast to avoid conversation with Ron – but the book was not there. It was not on her table at all, and she was sure she had left it there. Hermione began to panic – that book was the only one she could find that contained house-elf information and it happened to be the last one in stock at Flourish and Blotts!
Wait, she told herself. Why am I panicking? It's obvious what's happened. Parvati and Lavender wanted to annoy me so they redecorated the room awfully and then stole my book. It's stupid but obvious.
Hermione clambered out of bed and looked at the clock Lavender kept on her bedside table. The clock was not there. The only thing on the table was an old book that looked like a picture album…Hermione stared at it for a minute thinking it was oddly familiar…
I'm going crazy, she thought, dragging her feet (which seemed heavier this morning) across the room to the mirror. That potion made me insane. I need breakfast and a full day of classes. That'll do me good. If I could just look at my reflection to check that I haven't turned into a green alien, I'll be satisfied. Then I can go have a good yell at those girls.
Hermione stopped in front of the mirror, still quite drowsy. She stared at her reflection for a several long minutes before the full impact of what she was seeing hit her. She swung around madly to face the room again – the orange bedspread, her missing book, the messy beds – and it all clicked. She understood.
Oh, my God, she thought. Then she screamed.
*
I feel like I was run over by a horde of Hippogriffs, Ron thought as he awoke in bed. It seemed more comfortable than usual and his pillow was like a cloud, but that didn't make up for the horrid ache throughout his whole body. Either that or someone had tried pummeling him to death during his sleep. Don't be thick, Ron, he told himself, mimicking what Hermione would say, like anyone would be stupid enough to attempt that.
Ron rolled over in bed, thinking it was still early in the morning. The sun wasn't streaming in through the window like it usually did. His eyes flickered open involuntarily for a moment and caught the time on an unknown clock on Harry's bedside table that had not been there the night before when Ron flopped onto his bed, explaining to his friend about the detention. It was nine o'clock in the morning, time for breakfast, yet it didn't feel like it.
Ron groaned and flipped over again. "Harry, mate, s'time to get up," he muttered to the bed next to him, strongly expecting Harry to be there and to respond. Harry and Ron always got up at the same time. But the bed next to him did not respond, as there was no one in it – it was completely Harry-free. Ron would've had better luck talking to the clock, for all the good it did. "Harry?" he muttered, stronger this time. No response. "Harry, get up." Yet again, there was no response. It was clear Harry was not there. Where could he be?
Feeling slightly more awake, he opened his eyes again to get a full look at the sky out the window. He thought it was nice waking up to that. Instead, he got a full look of the stone in the wall. There was no window next to his bed and there had been the night before. He'd been sleeping in this dormitory for years – windows couldn't just disappear over night, could they?
Knowing Hogwarts, it's possible, Ron told himself thickly. He wouldn't have believed this had he not been so lethargic.
He scrambled out of his bed and realized it wasn't orange, but pink. Ron detested pink. It reminded him of girls. Where had his Chudley Cannons bed sheets gone? Must've disappeared like the window, he thought, even denser than before.
Ron rubbed his eyes, hoping to wipe away the sleep, but accidentally cut himself above his eye instead. He brought his hands down to examine them. His nails were long, longer than before, and his fingers were much more petite. Both his hands looked like they had shrunken a great deal overnight. Stupid eyes. Playing tricks on me.
He reached for the glass of water he had left on his bedside table the night before, planning to throw it in his face, but didn't find it. In its place was a book that he couldn't remember putting there. "A History of Little Creatures: Including Doxies, Gnomes, and House-Elves" he read aloud slowly. House-elves. "This is Hermione's book," he muttered out loud again to no one in particular, tossing the book onto his pink bed. "Dunno how that got here." He planned on giving it back to her at breakfast but then remembered they were currently in a fight. He frowned. He hated fighting with her.
Ron threw open his dresser (which had moved a full ten feet from where it had been the night before), prepared to pull out clothes for the day. Shirt, vest, tie, socks, skirt…
Wait a minute. He held up the unmistakable skirt. How had that gotten there? Ron looked down. He was wearing a nightdress. Now, how had that gotten there? He honestly couldn't remember putting it on the night before.
He whirled around to face the mirror (which, like the dresser, had moved a great deal from the last time Ron saw it…previously it had been on the other side of the room) and gaped. What was all that stuff on his head? He knew that wasn't his. That's…hair, he told himself.
Bloody hell…this isn't my room…this is…I'm… Then he screamed a very high scream.