Certain Dark Things || Book Three

lii. once more unto the breach

The first time Hermione used the Time-Turner, she was not proud to admit she got sick.

The device didn't cause anything to move, precisely, but the world blurred about the edges like ink smudged on parchment, or a whirling, Impressionistic painting made of shifting shadows and pulsing lights. Using it now, if she strained her eyes, she could see people moving in reverse, students passing in and out of the ward, Madam Pomfrey bustling about. Snape stumbled in and dropped Harriet onto her bed, Elara and Hermione arriving with Dumbledore and Mr. Black before that, though the infirmary remained primarily quiet aside from their presence. The sunlight grew in the windows, slanting higher and higher up the walls as the evening clouds thinned and the moon vanished into the daylight.

Steam lifted off the hourglass as the five-hour mark approached, and it became more and more unstable. The rings under Hermione's fingers felt like a hot mug after boiling water was poured into it, steadily heating until it threatened to burn.

It stopped all at once, no bothering to slow down or inch closer, just a sudden snick as the dial stopped winding and the world solidified. Colors bloomed and burst in Hermione's eyes, and she knew Harriet saw them too, given how the shorter witch swayed and blinked, gone pale as new snow. She ducked out from under the Time-Turner's chain and gripped her bruised knees.

Hermione inspected the infirmary, ensuring they hadn't landed where someone could see them, and then she checked the time while Harriet gulped. They had ten minutes before History of Magic let out.

"Harriet," Hermione urged, tugging on her skinny arm. "We need to hurry. We can't stay here."

"Okay, okay. Just let me—." Harriet forced her fingers under her glasses to rub her eyes, standing up. "So that's time travel? Can't say I like it—at all, in fact. Morgana's knickers, when do all the colors stop smearing like that?"

"Harriet—."

"Okay, 'm fine. Where to?"

Hermione knitted the scene together in her mind again, forcing sense out of the mishmash she'd made of time when she'd gone barreling through it. "I need to go to the History of Magic hall. That's where you saw me, yes? Then, I need to send Professor Lupin and Mr. Black out after you, and then I must leave a note for Snape."

"And what about me?"

"I—the jar. Go to the kitchens and get a jar from the house-elves. And your Invisibility Cloak from the dorms."

"It doesn't do anything against Snape."

"No, but it works plenty well enough against everyone else. We'll meet at the covered bridge—and Harriet?" She paused, reaching out for the other witch, pulling her into her arms so they could hug each other. She could feel the rainwater still trapped in Harriet's robes, the moisture tepid, sweat clinging to her messy hair. Hermione breathed in and could smell something herbal on her too, something not from the forest. Snape, she remembered, seeing the Potions Master holding up Harriet's pale, limp form again. For a moment, Hermione had thought her dead.

She let go, and they hurried out of the ward, skirting by Madam Pomfrey's office on silent, tired feet. Hermione had grown accustomed to the sudden, seemingly inexplicable extra hours in her schedule, but she imagined Harriet must be feeling something like Muggle jet lag. By all rights, she needed to be in a bed, recovering from her mad plight through the woods and her encounter with the Dementors—and Hermione hadn't missed the connotations in Headmaster Dumbledore and Snape's conversation. The professor had been using Dark magic, and coming too close to that wouldn't help Harriet's condition at all.

They broke off from one another, sprinting in two different directions, though Hermione kept her pace slow enough to be casual if spotted. There was blood on her face from walking about the forest Confunded, bumbling headlong into trees and bushes and Elara at one point. She wiped at the dried, sticky trails as she hurried, though she knew from her friends' recollections that they'd still see it when she found them. Hermione was lucky they wouldn't try to stop her.