Harry’s voice faded off into the distance as Hermione walked closer to the box. They had been camping for weeks now, and Hermione had grown incredibly weary. Her boredom was cracked by a strange - but incredibly familiar wooshing sound deep in the forest. Could it be? She felt her stomach flip and her heart clench. Here it was again. That blue box. That same blue box. Time and time again, it had appeared in her lifetime as a blue speck in the distance, but never had she been so close to it. It looked….new, but old at the same time. She smiled to herself, now - that was impossible. The box itself looked impossible, actually: so out of place, so random, so very blue. She ran her hand over the soft wooden grain on the side.
“Police box?” she muttered to herself, noticing the sign on the top. “What on earth would a - - -” Her thoughts were stopped short when the doors of the box burst open and out popped the head of a rather eccentric looking man with a red bowtie.
“Ah well, dear, you’ve taken me off course yet again,” he babbled to himself as he looked around. “Oh!” He spun around, taking notice of Hermione for the first time. “I’m off on an adventure - a silly adventure - no, a crazy one - well no, Paris was the crazy one…” Hermione inched away as the man began to ramble off on a tangent about posing for a painting of some sorts and a naked goose chase, twirling his hands and occasionally smacking himself in the face.
“Wait! Don’t leave,” he called, walking up to her with a mischievously playful grin. “I want you to come with me.”