Hermione\'s coma

Hermione’s heart was hammering against her chest and she was more confused than ever, turning her eyes back to where she had seen Harry to find nothing but an empty field.
Turning back to the big oak doors, she found them whole and unscratched once more. Taking one last fleeting glance around herself, she reached for the handle and pulled.

The huge doors creaked as they swung backwards to reveal the Entrance Hall. The Hall was deserted and no sound could be heard, stepping inside she noticed that the hourglass that used to record house points had been smashed and the many coloured jewels spread across the floor.
Closing the oak doors behind her, Hermione wrapped her arms around herself as when she felt a chill in the air.
“Hello!” she cried, walking towards the grand staircase, but all she heard in reply was the wind blowing through the many corridors that this castle concealed.
Shivering from the cold that hit her still-wet dress, she climbed the staircase, moving absentmindedly towards the Gryffindor common room.
She quickly realized that no one had lived inside the castle for years, cobwebs infested the staircase, and Hermione hoped inwardly that the bigger spiders from the forbidden forest had not taken refuge inside the castle.
There was also a thick layer of dust that caked the floor and only Hermione’s bare footprints broke it. The many photographs that littered the walls on the way up the grand staircase were now hanging lopsided; some even had smashed to the ground. Hermione peered into a picture through the layer of dust but could see nothing moving behind the frame. She climbed more stairs, looking every now and again into a murky frame but seeing nothing.

Her heart gave a sudden lurch as her eyes fell on Sir Cadogan portrait. She sprinted towards it and wiped away the cake of dust and gasped.
Inside the frame there was no sign of Sir Cadogan but the skelton of his fat pony lay on the ground, partially covered in dirt.
Backing away from the portrait holding her mouth, eyes wide, Hermione turned and pushed forward, climbing more and more stairs and the further she went the colder it seemed to get. “Is anyone here!” she screamed and her voice bounced off the many walls and spread throughout the castle.
Finally she reached the top step and found herself face to face with the Fat Lady’s portrait but all she could see was dust. Walking timidly towards it, Hermione lifted her hand and wiped the dust away and looked upon the Fat Lady's face.

She had aged horribly - her hair was stark white and her face was old and wrinkled. Hermione could not tell if she was alive or dead as her head was resting on her chest her eyes were closed.

“Excuse me,” said Hermione timidly.

The Fat Lady's eyes flew open and she peered out with milky, blind eyes.
“Who’s there?” she croaked in shock.

“Hermione Granger…I belong in Gryffindor,” whispered Hermione, her hands shaking.

“If you belong in Gryffindor you can tell me the password,” said the Fat Lady.

Hermione’s mouth dropped. How could she know the password? She hadn’t been here in eight years! That’s when an idea came to her.
“Thestral” she said, and almost laughed out loud when the door swung open. She still wanted to talk to the Fat Lady but after the door had opened she had disappeared from view so Hermione crawled through into the common room.

Other than the dank smell and dust, the common room looked exactly how she had last seen it. The sofa she and Harry had shared their first kiss on still had the medi-kit next to it, and the cushions were crumpled as if they had just been sitting on them. The room had no windows and it looked like they had been blown apart, and Hermione was wondering more than ever what had happened to Hogwarts.

The open window let a lot of cold air into the room and what remained of the curtains blew in the wind.
Hermione stepped further into the room and could hear many mice scattering away into their lodgings. Making sure not to move anything as she walked, Hermione made her way towards the girls' common room.
Ascending the stairs, she pushed open the door and her mouth hung open as she looked into the room.

All the beds but one was in ruins. The mattresses were torn and bits of stuffing hung out. The bed hangings were ripped or otherwise burnt. She made her way over to her bed, which was the only one intact and the cleanest thing in the whole castle.
The floor beneath her bed was polished; her bed was made with clean linen and her bed hangings were pulled back and tied to the posts.
Hermione reached the bed and sat down on the edge of it and laid down, her cheek resting lightly on the fluffy pillow. She longed to hide under the covers for the rest of her life, but she had already figured out that she could not control this situation very well.

This was quickly proven to her when she felt her bed become less comfortable. Something was digging into her cheek. Lifting her head up, she placed her hand under the pillow and felt something rectangular. Pulling it out, she looked down at her copy of A History of Magic. She knew it was hers as her name littered the front many times in different styles of writing which she had no recollection of ever doing herself. The cover was old and battered and the edges curled over, a sign of rough treatment.

She pried the book apart and looked down at the first page. The pages she remembered being in the book were no longer there. The pages were littered with notes from her friends.

Hermione we will miss you, R.I.P Hermione you will be missed, I can’t believe your gone....

Her tears splashed the page and she watched the ink smear down the page.
She closed the book quickly and shoved it back under the pillow; her heart was hammering again and her mind racing. Where am I…am I dead?
Until this moment, Hermione had just considered this to be a very bad dream that she could not control, but now she feared that this was purgatory.