'Mysterious thing, Time.
Powerful, and when meddled with, dangerous.'
The next morning at the burrow, the Weasleys, along with Harry and Hermione, gathered at the table for breakfast, making small conversations among them - except for the golden trio (as they were still called), who quickly caught Arthur's attention with their silence and solemn looks.
"What's the matter, Harry?"
Harry stared around the table, all eyes turned to him, as they waited for his answer. Arthur turned his head patiently, a small frown adorning his lips.
"Harry had --" Ron was cut short.
"I'm just... I'm still having a hard time getting over what happened, how many people died...Fred, and--" Harry noticed how George's shoulders slumped slightly, eyes racking around the room blankly. "I just can't believe it's all over."
Ronald's grimace aggravated at Harry's lie; he knew fully well that was not the reason behind his glum look. The ginger gave his friend a pointy look before returning to his food. A mourning expression was plastered on everyone's faces; it became almost like a taboo conversation, specially for George who felt like he had lost a part of himself - which in a way, he had.
They continued eating in silence, Arthur reluctantly nodding his head. He had lost his son and even though it's been a while since the infamous battle of Hogwarts that put end to the reign of the Dark Lord, no time could heal the wound of losing a child - it leaves a scar; it tears at your heart. You're never complete again.
"More eggs, my dear?" Mrs. Weasley offered, with a smile that Harry noticed, didn't quite reach her eyes.
The rest of the morning went by incredibly slow. Arthur Weasley had asked Harry, Hermione and his sons to help him de-gnoming their garden. There were plenty of weeds, and the grass needed cutting but there were gnarled trees all around the walls, rare plants spilling from every flower bed, and a big green pond full of frogs.
"What was that about? Why did you lie earlier?" Hermione hissed lowly at Harry as they followed behind them.
" I don't want to worry anyone with this," said Harry, bent double with his head in a peony bush, "everything's over, Voldemort is dead."
There was a sudden gasping noise, both friends turning slightly to see a shuddering Ron, who quickly straightened up. "That bloody name still gives me the chills," he said grimly.
"Alright everyone let's split up. We'll start on opposite sides and meet at the center." Arthur instructed, calling George and a frowning Ron to his side. Harry and Hermione walked forward toward the right side, silently looking for a small gnome creature to send them back to their gnomeholes.
"There's one," Hermione pointed out.
Harry glanced to his right: it was the familiar small and leathery looking creature, with a large, knobby, bald head exactly like a potato. Hermione quickly held it at arm's length as it kicked out at her with its little feet; she grasped it around the ankles and turned it upside down before she started to swing it in great circles like a lasso.
Seeing Hermione doing it reminded him of when he first came to the Burrow all those years ago, and he had been shocked to see Ron swirl the tiny gnome around. Hermione let go of the gnome's ankles: It flew twenty feet into the air and landed with a thud in the field over the hedge. Harry continued looking for more gnomes and he spotted one, dashing for the creature and barely grasping its ankle before it bit on his finger. Harry winced, struggling to free the mischievous gnome away from his flesh. He didn't remember how painful and exhausting de-gnoming a garden could be.
Hermione noticed how Harry was struggling and walked over to him, her smaller hands gripping at the upper half of the gnome and helping him free himself from its pointy teeth. "Thanks." Harry mumbled, cleaning the spots of blood in his finger on his black jacket.
"Where did you get it from Harry?" She simply asked, whilst in the process of circling the gnome above her head. Hermione stopped briefly, Harry's unsure expression urging her mind into making all kinds of assumptions - one standing out. "Did you steal it? Have you kept it with you all this time?" She questioned with a slight tremble to her voice, eyes widening in disapproval.
"What? Hermione, are you out of your mind?" shocked and angry at the false accusations, Harry rose to his feet, shaking his head in an attempt to calm himself. "I did not steal anything."
"How is it that a Time Turner - when all of them in the wizarding world has been destroyed - happens to land in your hands?"
Harry pressed his lips into a thin line; he didn't possess the answers to her questions, he knew just as much as her when it came to the time travelling object he had on his very pocket.
"Just, Harry..." she sighed, "Whatever you're dealing with right now, you don't have to do it on your own. You never did. We're here for you. Always."
Harry nodded his head, his fingers absentmindedly tracing over the pattern of the golden object inside his pocket as he smiled slightly at his best friend. Harry thought over how many battles they had fought together, how much blood they had shed to keep their loved ones safe, how many tears they have cried whenever a significant one brutally lost their life... And he selfishly thought how all of that could have been prevented if he were to tell them, tell her, Hermione, of the prophecy in his dream. The possibility of his parents being alive in an alternative universe - one where Lord Voldemort did not exist; never rose to power - was enough to send Harry into distraught.
He didn't sleep that night either, nor the one after that, or the other - it was when the dark circles under his eyes, and the lack of appetite started to worry everyone at the Burrow, that both Hermione and Ron dragged Harry further into the now gnome-free garden casting a Imperturbable Charm to prevent anyone from hearing their conversation, and forcing him to tell them what was really happening.
"We need to know, we want to help. This thing you're dealing with, whatever it is, it's --"
"I'm not sure if I should be telling you this; or even considering it," said Harry, looking extremely agitated and glancing over his shoulder as though making sure they could not be overheard - despite Hermione's charm. "But, I had a dream, it spoke of a Prophecy..."
"What Prophecy?" Urged Ron, arms crossed over his chest.
"The one with the power to change fate has been gifted with a kind heart and witty mind..." Harry began mumbling, earning confused looks from both his friends.
"What? Harry you're not making any sense." said Hermione angrily.
"It's the Prophecy," he told them, and, pulling the Time Turner from his pocket, he turned it backwards and stared at the craved date. "The one with the power to change fate has been gifted with a kind heart and witty mind. The darkness residing inside her heart overpowered by the light; a light that if used in due time would be enough to extinguish the Dark Lord's death plans like fire. Many lives could be recovered if only one turns back time."
"I-I don't understand, what's that supposed to mean?" Huffed Ron, his arms falling to his sides as he looked back and forth between his friend and girlfriend.
Both Harry and Hermione had knowing looks on their faces, Hermione lunging forward to get the golden object from his hand. She stared down at it, fingers grazing over the black inked date. "All those lives could be saved?" She murmured, thinking back to her fallen friends and innocent shed blood; thinking back to her parents. "Would it really work?"
She glanced up at Harry, noticing how his bright green eyes were studying her face intensely.
"Oi! What's going on?" Yelled Ron in irritance.
"This Prophecy is about me, Ronald" said Hermione, turning to face one of the most important people in the world for her.
"What?" his eyes narrowed, dropping to the Time Turner and attempting to snatch it away from her. "Hermione, you cannot possibly be thinking about doing this."
"Think about all the deaths I could prevent... Remus, Sirius, Harry's parents, Fred..." A small tear rolled down her eyes, head facing the grey, cloudy sky as she imagined two familiar faces smiling down at her. "My parents would remember me once more."
"NO", Ron gripped her body, slightly shaking her as if trying to shake those thoughts off of her. "I can't lose you. Not now, not ever."
"All those times when Harry needed our help we were there for him, we never hesitated, never thought about ourselves first--" She sighed, handing Harry the Time Turner and gripping both their hands in hers. "I need your help now. I need you to trust me and let me do this."
"You're not really thinking about doing this, are you?" Ron asked apprehensively.
"I am."
~
"This is mad," Ron mumbled, watching as Hermione paced back and forth on his room.
Harry was sat on his bed, twirling the Time Turner in his hand as he began to really think about all the things that could go terribly wrong; he had been so selfishly thinking about what a life with his parents would be like, that he didn't even consider how much danger he was going to put his friend through. It didn't feel right.
"He's right," he said after a moment of silence. "Maybe we should just forget this."
"Forget this?" said Hermione. "Harry, I'm not forgetting this. I won't be able to spend the rest of my life wondering what it'd be like if my parents knew I exist, if you'd have yours with you and never had to live with the Durleys -- Harry I can't! "
"I got you what you asked for Hermione," Ginny entered the room, a pile of clothes in her hands. Hermione took them from her with a thankful smile and walked to the bathroom to change.
Wide padded shoulders, nipped in high waist tops, and a-line skirts that came down to her knees, Hermione stared at her reflexion on the mirror, using her fingers to try and tame down her curls. She walked out. "Er... all right," she said nervously, upon entering the room. Ron's eyebrows furrowed as he glanced up and down her attire.
"What's that you're wearing?"
"If I'm going back to the 40's I can't go wearing jeans and a t-shirt, can I? This was the everyday shape for clothing from suits to dresses. 1940's fashions were all about the hour glass figure with broad shoulders, tiny waists and full hips."
"Hermione," Ginny walked toward her friend, a small comforting smile assuring her that whatever choice she made, she would support her. "You know you don't have to do this."
"I still think it's a terrible idea and I don't agree with any of this - Prophecy or not." Ron interrupted.
"Ronny it's her choice."
"I bloody know that. But I don't agree -- " he snapped at his sister, sighing afterwards. "Why would she risk herself like this when it's all over--"
As the two siblings argued in unison, Harry moved around the room, only half listening. Reaching Hermione, he raised his hands and placed the necklace around her neck. They stood like that for a few seconds; just staring at each other. "Is this really what you want?"
She glanced over at Ron, whose eyes couldn't meet hers as he sat by Ginny on the bed, and nodded her head.
"I'll be back before you know it. And...well, everything will be different by then. But we'll still know each other. I'm sure" She whispered, not so sure of her words like she had stated.
The only sounds that could be heard was their silent breathing and the occasional squeaking of the object. It had to be turned 55 times – one for each year that had passed since 1942 – Tom Riddle's sixth year at Hogwarts. As Harry reached 50, she glanced up at them, giving a small smile.
"No please, you don't have to do this." Ron lunged forward at the last second, his hand touching Hermione's before she turned into mist before their eyes. "Come back soon," he whispered.
A small cry escaped her mouth, eyes closing. She felt herself being pushed by an invisible force in every direction, this felt ridiculously identical to apparating – it had been years since she last used a Time Turner, but back then she would only go back an hour or thirty minutes; not years – thus this was taking longer.
Just when she though she couldn't take it anymore and that her lungs would explode inside her ribcage, she found herself taking a deep breath; she was no longer floating or being crushed; her feet were standing on firm ground. She had stopped. Her brown eyes fluttered open and she looked around taking in her surroundings.
Cottages stood on either side of the narrow road. A short way ahead of her, a glow of golden streetlights indicated the center of the village. She had been here with Harry not too long ago back in her time. Godric's Hollow. She made her way forward unhampered, the autumn air hitting her face as she passed more cottages. Her eyes lingered for a while at the house Harry had told her his parents died on. Neither Lily nor James were born at this time and she wondered who lived there now. Without her notice, her feet carried her all the way toward the wooden door and she knocked twice, her fist shaking slightly. There was no answer.
"What is it that a young girl like yourself happens to be doing here.... alone? " said a voice.
"Visiting relatives ," said Hermione hastily, her eyes turning to face the man. "They... they told me they were living here." The middle-aged man stood firmly on the ground, his long black beard caressing his features; his emerald eyes boring deeply into Hermione's; a small crease in between his eyebrows.
"My dear, seems to me your relatives have mistaken you, " he said, a glint of amusing in his voice. "No one lives there. It's unhabituated. "
Hermione felt a thrill of something that was beyond excitement, more like fear. Now that she was so near, she couldn't let herself get caught. There was too much at stake. Failure was not an option. "Erm – I'm sorry, sir—I"
"Demophilus Williams, " he said, bowing his head slightly and removing his black hat. Hermione nodded her head. "Why don't you come with me, my dear. My wife will be thrilled to meet you... A madcap that woman, but good at heart. You'll learn to like her."
"C'mon, I don't bite." he urged when he noticed Hermione's hesitation. Thinking that she had nothing to lose, she gladly accepted this opportunity and began to follow behind him. As they crossed the road, he stopped abruptly and turned to face a curious Hermione.
"I'm sorry, didn't quite catch the name dear? "
"Hermione, sir.... Hermione Lockhart " It was the first name that popped into her head and Hermione had no idea why she had chosen it. It belonged to that poser, liar and pathetic man from her time. But she couldn't reveal her true identity; it was for her safety. Lockhart came from a pure blood family - she couldn't have a muggleborn name as an identity if she were to get closer to Riddle.
"Well, pleasure to meet you, Miss Hermione Lockhart. " she winced slightly at the name. She couldn't help but think about how bad it sounded.
They walked inside a small cottage, Hermione breathed in all the scents surrounding her. It smelled of biscuits, baked potatoes, pork and – butterbeer. Her stomach made an unpleasing sound and she hugged her torso embarrassed.
"Someone's hungry, I presume. " whispered Demophilus.
Later on, Hermione was sat at the small squared table with Demophilus and his wife – Bertha Williams. She reminded her of Molly Weasley in every aspect possible, it made Hermione's heart clench with sadness. She needed to keep reminding herself who she was doing this for.
"More pork, my dear ?" asked Bertha. Hermione shook her head and declined politely.
"So are you attending school Hermione?" she asked cheerfully. Hermione looked down at her long sleeved knitted sweatshirt and pants Bertha had given her to change, and nodded her head. "Yes, 6th Year at Hogwarts. "
"Oh we went there ", exclaimed the woman "Both Hufflepuff. Been putting up with this good for nothing scumbag for many years now. "
Demophilus gave his wife a disapproving look and ignored her comment, reaching for Hermione's hand on the table. "And you my dear, what house are you in?" he asked.
The middle-aged couple stared in a daze at Hermione, as she went on and on about how she has been home schooled in Gales, but her family moved to London and it was her wish to study at Hogwarts School, all lies.
"Merlin, so you haven't been sorted yet! Well this is a first, Hogwarts School never fails to surprise me" exclaimed Bertha "But nothing to worry about my dear, the Sorting Hat may be old, dusty and filthy, but wise it is. He will make a great decision. "
"You're familiar with the Houses aren't you?", asked Demophilus, taking a sip of Firewhiskey. Hermione nodded her head being careful not to look too excited. "What house do you reckon you'll be sorted in?"
She thought about it for a moment. Back in her time the Sorting Hat did seriously consider putting her in Ravenclaw, but it decided on Gryffindor in the end. So Hermione's answer was the truthful she could come with at the moment.
" I can't be sure."
~
The platform was filled with parents waving goodbye at their children and younger kids crying for they couldn't go to school yet.
" Write to us. Let us know you're safe and in what house too! " Bertha said handing Hermione 3 galleons to which she refused. "It's for you. To buy some sweets on the train. It's a long way there. "she insisted.
The whistle blew and with a quick hug at each of them she handed her pet - Argus, (the Williams' owl they had kindly let her take with her to Hogwarts) to a man on the train and began searching for a compartment. Every and each compartment was full, except for the one at the back that only contained two boys and one girl Hermione did not recognize. Her eyes landed on their Slytherin bandages and instantly, she cursed herself.
"Are you going to just stand there and stare or actually sit down? ", the girl snapped. She reminded her of Pansy Parkinson, but did not look the slightest like her. She had curly untamed hair and a pointy face. Her eyes were small and brown.
"Stand down, Alecto. " Hermione's eyes widened at the mention of the name. She was in the presence of the young Carrows.
Hermione sat uncomfortably next to Alecto Carrow. Her eyes wandered around the compartment noticing a pair of eyes staring at her from the reflexion on the door's glass.
"I never saw you at school before ", he wondered. His hair was blonde, and slicked back; his skin was fairly pale and his eyes were a dark shade of brown. He stared at her muggle dress and Hermione moved awkwardly in her seat. " Why are you not wearing school robes?"
Hermione cleared her throat and refrained herself from hexing them then and there. " Actually, I have yet to be sorted, " she explained. " I've been home-schooled. "