Thank you to my beta, kjcp.
Prologue
Hermione tried not to pace as she waited for Ron and Harry in the Gryffindor common room. Her bag felt heavy on her shoulder, and she set it down at her feet.
It was a simple thing, really. Getting up, dressing, walking to the Great Hall for breakfast. Even the simple things had become difficult this year, as she and Ron had to watch Harry whittled away to nothing but an empty shell. The worst part was that there was absolutely nothing they could do to stop it.
"Come on, Harry," Ron called, appearing on the boys' staircase. "You'd think you didn't want to go to Herbology." Hermione could hear the full truth in his voice, although she doubted anyone else could. He was trying to sound as though he was teasing Harry for being late, but an undercurrent of concern ran underneath, on a frequency only she could hear.
"I don't have my essay," Harry said, his tone flat and his eyes a little glazed.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, and Hermione felt as though she was about to cry.
"I've got it, Harry, remember? I have Ron's as well. I took them for safekeeping last night, before we all went to sleep."
She wasn't surprised that he didn't seem to remember, although it saddened her to watch him in this state. Harry had spent most of their sixth year in a haze, forever struggling to block out the visions Voldemort sent him. He was trying to master Occlumency, learn to block out the images, but he was still quite susceptible to them while he slept.
In the visions, Harry had been forced to watch one person in his life after another tortured and abused by Death Eaters. Each time, they discovered the images were false and the person in question was unharmed. Though Harry began to accept that each bombardment of his mind showed him only things that might be, the strain of living through the visions had turned Harry into a shadow of his former self.
Ron seemed to consider it his job to get Harry through the day, rousting him out of bed most mornings and dragging him from place to place. Hermione had taken it upon herself to remind Harry of class assignments that needed to be done, helping him whenever he needed it. She'd even written sections of essays for him, putting aside her guilt by promising herself she would make sure Harry learned the material later, once he put the nighttime visions behind him.
Lavender and Parvati whisked past them, quiet at first, but then Hermione could hear them whispering furiously to each other as they stepped through the portrait hole. She could have throttled them, though she knew most of the school had heard one rumor or another about Harry and the reasons for his recent behavior. She pursued them doggedly when they first began, telling off anyone she caught spreading them, but that only seemed to add fuel to the fire.
"Come on, you two," Hermione said, trying to keep her tone light. "I, for one, don't intend to let the labors of the house elves go to waste. Let's at least grab a glass of pumpkin juice before lessons."
"Oh, Hermione, not the house elves' plight speech again, yeah?" Ron volleyed back, but half-heartedly. It was exhausting for both of them, acting as though nothing was wrong and trying to keep things around Harry as normal as possible.
Hermione shut her eyes for a moment as she recalled the one time she'd tried to talk to Harry directly about his withdrawal from his life and everything around him. It had been a disaster, with Harry shouting that neither of them would ever understand. She still felt a bit guilty for wanting to yell back at him, tell him that he hadn't faced it all alone. She'd kept it back, sitting next to Ron in the sixth year boys' dormitory and silently taking the few shouted sentences that Harry spared them before he'd stormed out.
That was the last spark of fire she'd seen in him before he pulled into himself, and although she knew they hadn't been wrong for expressing her concern, she still hated that their confrontation of him seemed to have been the catalyst for his current condition.
"You needn't worry about the house elves, Ron. I'm sure their freedom will be secured one day, with or without your help."
"But for now, we shouldn't let their work go to waste, like you said. So, that means plenty of bacon for me, then."
Hermione sighed with an exasperation she didn't feel, and put one hand on each boy's back and pushed. She allowed herself a moment of relief as Harry began to walk, and they made their way downstairs to the Great Hall.
That evening, after she'd made notes on Harry's assignment for History of Magic the next day, she collapsed gratefully onto her bed. She and Ron had shared another private look in the common room, and she knew he would make sure Harry rewrote the changes in his own handwriting before they went up to bed.
She laid back and tried to sleep, but after staring at the canopy of her bed hangings for far too long, she realized it was useless. She thought it must be long past midnight, and she still couldn't get the image of Harry staring listlessly into space during their lessons out of her head.
Hermione crossed her legs under the sheet, throwing her suddenly too-thick blanket to the side. It seemed hopeless. She felt queasy with fear at the idea that there was no answer, but then she pushed it away.
Of course there was an answer. She just hadn't found it yet. She needed more time.
She got out of bed, sleep now seeming highly irrelevant, and pulled on her robes over her nightdress. She stuffed her feet into her shoes and headed quietly from the room she shared with Parvati and Lavender, looking down at the prefect's badge that would save her from detention if Filch caught her out of bed after hours. She knew she was abusing her responsibility, but she simply didn't care anymore.
She had a greater responsibility. Deep down, she'd always wondered if everyone assumed she would be the one to find the key, the bit of information hidden in a book somewhere that would allow Harry to defeat Voldemort once and for all. She'd always wanted to ask. The question burned at her lips whenever she was near Professor Dumbledore.
Tonight was the night she would get her answer.
A Lumos spell and her sure, even footsteps carried her to Dumbledore's office, although she had no clue how to gain access to it. Dumbledore shouldn't even be there at this hour. He should be in his quarters, wherever they were, sleeping.
Somehow, Hermione knew he wasn't. He couldn't be. She'd finally made up her mind what she needed to do, and she needed his help. He had to be here.
As though her thoughts had suddenly been made real, the stone gargoyle began to move. She climbed quickly onto the spiral staircase and it took her upward.
Professor Dumbledore awaited her at the door, dressed as though it was the middle of the afternoon. She resisted the urge to ask him why he was there at this hour, afraid it would break the spell.
"Do you require my assistance with something, Miss Granger?" he asked her, his mild voice containing a hint of its usual rasp.
She found herself, in one singular panicked moment, completely at a loss for words. It had all seemed so clear back in her dormitory. She struggled to recall her exact line of reasoning, embarrassed to find herself at a loss in front of her headmaster.
"I need your help. I want to help Harry," she said, opting to begin with the basics. "There's too much to be done and too little time."
A look of understanding came over Dumbledore's face.
"You would like me to return the Time-Turner to you."
"I can find the answer. I just need more time. It can't be done between schoolwork and classes."
"As Professor McGonagall warned you in your third year, I must remind you of the danger you court by trifling with time. It is a heavy burden you seek, Miss Granger, which you well know. You have borne it before."
"I'm three years older now, Professor Dumbledore, and Harry's situation is much worse. It might be difficult, but I don't believe there is another choice."
"There are always choices, Miss Granger," he told her. "Whether they are good or bad is not always clear. The responsibility you seek would be considerable."
"I understand, Professor," she told him, and the look in his eyes seemed to ask her to go on. She wondered what he needed to hear.
"I know I am your headmaster, Miss Granger, but I would like you to tell me what's on your mind, even if you believe it is an inappropriate thing to say."
"I'll continue whether you help me or not," Hermione said, before she lost her nerve. "I'll give up sleep, anything else that gets in my way. The Time-Turner would just make things easier to manage."
Without a word, Dumbledore waved his wand and a drawer at the top of one of the cabinets lining his wall opened. A box levitated out of it and Hermione recognized it immediately. She'd stood in Professor McGonagall's office three years ago and watched her open it with open-mouthed wonder as she explained its workings to her.
Instead of handing her the box, however, he shuffled to another section of the cabinets, this time opening a lower drawer. He removed a squat, stone basin, and he handed it to her along with the Time-Turner. It was heavy in her arms and filled with a clear, shimmering substance.
"I will give you the Time-Turner, but only if you agree to take this as well. It is called a Pensieve, and it will assist you with organizing your thoughts. When your mind becomes clouded, you can remove some of your thoughts and store them here. There are two benefits. You will clear your mind, but the Pensieve can also help you find patterns and links in the thoughts you choose to store there. I see that I have already emptied it. You should find it ready for you when you desire to use it," he told her, smiling mildly at her.
He showed her how to extract a thought from her head with her wand and add it to the Pensieve, and she goggled at the silvery light of her Professor's memory as it sparkled at her from the basin. He returned it to his head with a quick flick of his wand.
"How exactly should I use it, Professor?"
"Use it, and the Time-Turner, as you feel you have a need for them."
Hermione felt her mouth set, knowing now that her instincts had been correct. It was her place to find the answer. Dumbledore had just told her as much.
"As before, do be careful not to run into the earlier version of yourself when you are repeating hours. The consequences could be dire."
"I was thinking about that, Professor. If I never return to a time when I didn't know about the Time-Turner, would I really be driven mad at the sight of a second version of myself?" She felt strange, arguing the point to Dumbledore, but avoiding herself had been extremely troublesome when she last used the Time-Turner.
Dumbledore chuckled, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening as he did.
"I suppose you do possess a strong enough sense of logic to maintain your sanity in that case. It is your responsibility to ensure no one else sees two of you at the same time, however."
"I understand."
"You may keep these things as long as you require them. I hope you do not find that period of time is longer than you wish to have them." Dumbledore ushered her to the door, opening it for her so she could squeeze through with the Pensieve cradled in her arms.
The door shut behind her as she tried to find the meaning in her headmaster's final words. Her feet carried her to Gryffindor tower as she thought, her arms beginning to shake from the burden she was carrying.
She continued her musings as she finally reached her bed, sliding Dumbledore's Pensieve underneath and slipping the Time-Turner's necklace over her head. With her direction clear, she gratefully found sleep returning to her.
