Chapter Text
Hermione was resting on the bed, her eyelids gently closed and her breathing faint.
Sitting silently beside her were her parents. Their hands were intertwined with Hermione's, their fingers tracing the lines of her small hands in a comforting rhythm.
Mrs. Granger, her eyes filled with tears, started to sing softly. It was a lullaby she used to sing to Hermione when she was a baby. Her voice trembled, heavy with emotion, yet she persisted.
"Sleep now, my angel, time to rest," she sang, her voice barely above a whisper. "In our hearts, you'll forever be the best. Dream of the wonders, in the star's glow, Even in darkness, our love will never go."
Her voice filled the room, a beautiful, heartbreaking melody. She sang of her love for Hermione, her hopes for her, her regret that she couldn't do more. She sang until Hermione squeezed their hands. A small smile on her lips, a sign that she heard them, that she knew how much they loved her. And with that, she let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing as she found her peace.
Mr. Granger, unable to hold back, let silent tears stream down his face. His heart ached as he watched his little girl, his pride and joy, lost her battle.
“Goodbye, our precious angel.”
Hermione was alone in the dark space. Her eyes were the only source of life in the desolate void. The silence was so deep that she could hear her own thoughts. She had been aimlessly wandering, her path lit only by the faint, distant twinkle of stars that seemed to be light years away.
Out of nowhere, a bright light appeared.
It was so intense that Hermione had to cover her eyes. When she dared to look, she saw a being. It was covered in a brilliant white light, so bright that she couldn’t see its shape. It’s form constantly shifting and changing.
Then, words began to appear on the being’s body.
Beyond or Life?
Hermione found herself drawn towards the word Beyond. Each step she took towards it was guided by an instinct she didn’t understand. She moved closer, a heavenly melody began to play. It started as a soft whisper, barely audible, but with each step she took, it grew louder and faster. The melody was enchanting, filling the void with its beautiful notes.
Just as she was about to reach out and touch, a sudden realization hit her. It was as if she had woken up from a dream.
She wanted to live.
Hermione changed her course at the last moment and reached out to touch Life.
Her fingers made contact and time seemed to stand still. Everything around her slowed down, as if she was in the middle of a slow-motion scene from a movie. Then, in an instant, a pure white light burst forth from the figure. It was so bright, so intense, that it seemed to consume everything in its path. The once dark void was now filled with this brilliant light, illuminating every corner of the cosmos.
Light engulfed Hermione, wrapping her in its warm embrace.
The sound of a baby’s cry echoed through the room. The people around gasped in excitement.
“Oh, this one is beautiful!” a voice chimed in, their tone brimming with delight.
“Another bundle of joy has graced us with her presence,” someone else added, their voice choked with emotion.
One of them, their hands gentle and careful, picked up the baby. They placed her on a conveyor belt that slowly moved towards another room.
As it moved, the baby, Hermione, began to stir. Her eyes, still adjusting to the light, blinked open. Everything was a blur of shapes and colors to her newborn eyes.
She felt a sense of confusion. She was too young to form coherent thoughts, but a basic instinct told her that this was a new environment. She couldn’t articulate it, but her wide eyes and the way she moved her head to take in her surroundings reflected her curiosity and bewilderment.
Hermione lay there and noticed a series of machines hovering above her. One of them moved towards her, and a cool mist began to spray from it. The mist started at her tiny toes, making its way up her body, all the way to her head. The machine was careful, ensuring the mist was just enough to moisten her skin without drowning her. Another machine moved into place. This one sprayed a thick liquid that had a pleasant smell. The liquid was warm and soothing. It felt comforting against her skin.
Once the liquid had been applied, the first machine moved back into place, spraying the cool mist once again. This process of rinsing and repeating continued, each cycle bringing a new wave of sensations for Hermione.
After the rinsing process, another machine moved into position. This one started to gently blow air on Hermione. The air was warm, drying her skin without causing any discomfort. The air flowed over her, she could feel her skin becoming dry.
Then, another machine moved into place. This one applied a substance on Hermione’s skin. The substance was cool to the touch and had a pleasant, soothing scent. Hermione could feel her skin becoming soft and smooth. The substance seemed to absorb quickly, leaving no residue, only a feeling of softness and smoothness.
The conveyor belt hummed softly as it continued to move to another room.
A machine with gentle, precise movements awaited its arrival. The machine was tasked with dressing up. It sprung into action and picked up a pink swaddle from a neatly stacked pile and wrapped it around Hermione with tenderness. Next, it selected a hat, also pink, and placed it delicately on her head, adjusting it until it sat just right. Then, the machine picked up a pink pacifier. With a soft whirring sound, it moved the pacifier towards her, placing it carefully in her mouth.
The conveyor belt smoothly carried Hermione into the next room before coming to a stop. The room was alive with the soft chatter of voices.
“I once read an old book during my school days,” one of them started, “It spoke of ancient people who were said to possess magic.”
A soft chuckle. “Reading those fairy tale books again?”
“It’s fascinating, don’t you think?”
Before a response could be given, another voice chimed in, “Let’s be real, magic doesn’t exist. Now, let’s stop this chatter and get back to work before Madam McGonagall gives us an earful again!”
Gently, someone lifted Hermione, cradling her with care. They placed her into a glass dome cart. With a gentle push, they wheeled her away. The voices around her started to fade.
Hermione could feel a blanket of sleepiness slowly enveloping her. She fought against it, wanting to stay awake, to understand what was happening. But the pull of sleep was too strong, and slowly, it overtook her, pulling her into a world of dreams.
When she woke up again, a bottle of milk was held to her mouth by a machine. She started drinking from it. As the milk flowed, she moved her eyes around. She saw many glass domes like hers. People were moving around, their eyes darting from one glass dome to another.
Just then, a couple walked up to her dome.
The man was tall and handsome, with a certain air of arrogance about him. His hair was neatly combed back, and his piercing dark eyes were fixed on her. Standing beside him was a woman, her beauty subtle yet striking. She look snobbish and critical, more so than the man.
“This one. Her face shape and eyes fit our criteria.”
The woman’s face creased into a frown. “I’d rather we choose one with my eye color.”
“Cecilia. We’ve been at this for hours, and I don’t want my son to be kept waiting. Today is his 5th birthday, and I promised him that we would find him a new wife by the end of the day. We simply don’t have the luxury to be picky anymore.”
The woman wanted to protest further, but she held her tongue, noticing the man’s patience was on the verge of snapping. “Alright, if you insist. Let’s go with your choice.”
Hearing her agreement, a look of satisfaction crossed the man’s face. He then turned his attention to a staff member nearby.
“We’ve made our decision. We want this one. How much does it cost?”