Manacled полностью

Hermione's breath caught slightly. The other questions had been easy. That — that went too close to something real.

“Dreams of before.”

“Before?”

“Before I came here .” Hermione's voice was quiet. Furious. She closed her eyes; the light was giving her a severe migraine.

“Of course.” More scribbling. The sound made Hermione's muscles flinch reactively. “You'll be here in the infirmary until the side effects from your torture sessions are fully relieved. I will also be bringing in a specialist to figure out what happened to your brain.”

Hermione's eyes snapped open.

“Is there—,“ she hesitated. “Is there something—wrong with me?”

The healer stared at her contemplatively before waving her wand over Hermione's head.

“You were kept in sensory-deprived isolation for sixteen months. The fact you're lucid at all is a miracle. The effects of such an experience can hardly be avoided, especially given the circumstances prior to your arrival. I imagine you studied some healing during the war?”

“Yes,” Hermione said, looking down at the blanket on her lap. It was threadbare and smelled so strongly of antiseptic she wanted to gag from the olfactory assault.

“Then you know what a normal, healthy magical brain looks like. This is yours.”

A simple wand manipulation drew the magically projected image of Hermione's brain into view.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. Scattered across the projection were little glowing lights; some clustered, some sporadic. All over her brain. She'd never seen such a thing before.

“What are those?”

“My best guess is that they're magically created fugue states.”

“What?”

“At some point during your isolation, your magic began trying to protect you. Since you couldn't express any magic externally, it internalised itself. You worked hard to keep yourself from, as you said, slipping. However, the mind is hardly equipped to handle such a thing. Your magic has walled off parts of your mind. As a result, it fragmented you somewhat. Normally a fugue is general, but these appear almost surgically precise. Although mind healing isn't my specialty.”

Hermione stared in horror.

“Do you mean I–I disassociated?”

“Something like that. I've never actually seen anything like this before. This might be a new magical malady.”

“Do — I have multiple personalities?” Hermione felt suddenly faint.

“No. You've simply isolated parts of your mind. I think your magic intended to protect them from mental attacks, but by extension it prevented you from accessing them.”

Hermione was reeling internally.

“What — don't I remember ?”

“Well, we aren't entirely sure. You'll have to be the one to discover what you've forgotten. What are your parents' names?”

Hermione paused a moment, trying to calculate if the question was based on seeking a diagnosis or potentially to extract information. Blood drained from her face.

“I don't know,” she said, suddenly feeling as though she couldn't breathe. “I remember I had parents. They were — Muggles. But — I can't remember anything about them.”

Struggling to tamp down on the panic rising inside of her, she stared imploringly at the healer.

“Do you know anything?”

“I'm afraid not. Let's try another question. Do you remember the school you went to? Who were your best friends there?”

“Hogwarts. Harry and Ron,” Hermione said, looking down as her throat tightened. Her fingers twitched uncontrollably.

“Good.”

“Do you remember the headmaster?”

“Dumbledore.”

“Do you remember what happened to him?”

“He died,” Hermione said, squeezing her eyes shut. Although the details felt fuzzy, she was sure.

“Yes. Do you remember the circumstances of his death?”

“No. I remember — he was reinstated as headmaster after it was confirmed that Vold-Vold — You-Know-Who had returned.”

“Interesting.” There was more scribbling. “What is it that you remember of the war?”

“I was a healer. I was in the hospital ward. So many people I couldn't save — I remember losing. Something — something didn't work. Harry died. They — they hung him up off the Astronomy Tower, and we watched him rot. They — they hung Ron and his family next to him. And Tonks and Lupin. They tortured them until they died. Then they put me in that cell and left me there.”

Hermione was shaking as she spoke. The hospital bed shook and made an angry creaking noise.

The healer didn't appear to notice and scribbled more notes.

“This is very unusual and interesting. I've never heard of a fugue state like this before. I'm anxious to hear what a specialist thinks.”

“Glad to be so interesting,” Hermione said, her lip curling as she opened her eyes to glare at the healer.