Hermione Granger and the Year Hidden from Hogwarts

Chapter 12

Hermione Granger and the Year Hidden from Hogwarts

Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter 12

A/N: I'm posting this story in three different places and seem to get the most reviews on AO3 where I can reply to the comments and interact. That's harder to do on fanfiction.net. Any time I go to reply to a comment, it wants to send it as a DM, so if I'm doing something wrong on ff, let me know! I love each and every review and comment, so even if you don't hear from me or get a response, know that I've probably devoured your words at least three times! I write for the feedback.

Also, I am always looking for opportunities to practice my Spanish, so I appreciate the Spanish reviews too! When I understood 95% of the words, it made me feel better about dishing out money for Rosetta Stone when I could use those skills in an authentic interaction.

If you're into finding a little bit about what's going on behind the scenes in terms of timelines and whatnot—which can be considered a spoiler if you squint hard enough—I'll be adding a little note at the end of this chapter too, a spoiler lite, if you will. So, if you don't want any information, it'll be easy to skip!

September 1st, 1991

Hermione bent at the waist, hands propped on her knees as she gasped for breath. "I hate the treadmill."

Charles killed his machine beside her with a whooshed, "Thank God." He held his hand to his side like he'd gotten a stitch. "I thought I was going to die."

Surprisingly enough, only Dr. Hampton seemed to enjoy the workouts they'd added at the beginning of their normal routines. He wasn't even out of breath as he jumped down. "You two are being dramatic. We'll never improve our fitness if we don't push. Come on, what do you say we add another five minutes?"

Hermione collapsed against the wall, greedily gulping from her water bottle, leaving Charles to answer to the absurd suggestion.

"Why are we forced to do this again?" He plopped down beside Hermione, holding his hand out in silent demand. She passed him his water bottle, too out of breath to comment on how he could've just taken three steps and sat on her left where he'd left his drink in the first place. "We're just the lab rats. We're not actual MI5 agents."

Besides, they'd been in this routine of ritual torture long enough that she could guess his answer: three steps are three too many.

Dr. Hampton propped his hands on his hips as he sank into a deep lunge. "Ah, that stretch on the hamstring feels great. And Charles, you heard Ms. Walker. If we're going to be out in the field so much, we have to keep in shape just like any field agent. We nearly lost Hermione at Lake Baikal. It's important to keep up our endurance and stamina. Besides," he burst out, running in place. "Exercise stimulates the brain. And, Hermione can get physical education credit for the stuff we do here, giving her another free period to keep up with her studies or add another self-led course."

When Hermione finally felt like she could speak without dying, she leaned forward into her own stretch, reaching for her toes. "My parents support this, don't they?"

Dr. Hampton chuckled. "Support? Sure, we can say that. About like saying Parliament supports people not committing murder."

Hermione blinked as she processed his words. She glanced up. "Wait, they made my exercise a stipulation to continue, didn't they?"

"Well, your mother was very upset after we got back, and while Ms. Walker's choice to make this a requirement does make sense in a way now that they've agreed to let us venture out more to search for these creatures, I can't say it's protocol."