Cold, abrasive wind swept across a grassy plane nestled deep into the English countryside not far from York. Over the past several hours rain had fallen from dark thunder clouds and drenched the land, leaving the fresh scent of cleansed earth in it's wake. Jarring gusts made it over the tall foliage and stroked the small figure, unconscious and shivering under its uncaring ministrations. It was there in this field that Hermione Granger woke; a trembling, damp mess.