Hermione Granger, who was the most brilliant and powerful witch the world had ever seen, and could do silent wandless magic in her sleep (better than Dumbledore himself, yet she couldn't figure out a way to tame her wildly crazy mane of bushy brown hair), whispered the correct instructions to Neville during their seventh year potions class. Because of her unparalleled brilliance, she always had to help the hopeless case that was Neville Longbottom. Otherwise, he may have ended up brewing some concoction that could possibly blow up, land all over her, and somehow send her tumbling back in time twenty years.
As she hastily muttered the steps under her breath, she heard someone clear their throat. When she glanced up, she saw their surly, bullying, sneering, potions professor scowling down at her. His hair was quite greasy, his expression was quite mean, and he was, as always, dressed in billowing black robes. Which made everyone refer to him as 'the bat of the dungeons.' He really was a bit awful, and Hermione definitely understood why he was single. How could anyone ever love someone who had been so horrible to her and her friends the way he had been.
"Miss Granger, 175 points from Gryffindor for helping Longbottom, as I've explicitly ordered you not to do all year," he sneered. Professor Snape always sneered. He did not ever have any other expression except for sneering.
Hermione's cheeks were as hot as one thousand suns, as was normally the case when a perfect student such as herself was scolded by a professor.
Just as she was about to respond, Neville's cauldron began to burp and bubble. Hermione, Neville and Snape's eyes all went rounder than a bludger as they watched. Suddenly the potion erupted with gusto, and coincidentally, Hermione ended up being the only person in the entire class who had the misfortune of being covered in the silver gunk which had come out of it.
Mysteriously the accident knocked Hermione unconscious and out of her seat, and after a few moments she began to come to. Three young male voices sounded out around her, each sounding more worried about her condition rather than the fact that she had appeared, quite literally out of thin air. Two voices were vaguely familiar, yet her exceptionally brilliant mind could not figure out why they would be at school, when they were both adults - one who was supposed to be hiding in Grimmauld Place.
When she opened her eyes, she knew she must have imagined the two familiar voices, since her best friend was standing right over her.
"Harry?" Hermione croaked as she squinted her eyes.
As the boy came into focus, immediately she realized Harry's eyes were not his signature bottle green, and there was no scar on his head. The only rational conclusion was that this was James Potter, Harry's dead father.
She looked at the other boys and saw a muscular, model-like handsome, and much younger Sirius Black cockily smirking down at her, with sex appeal just oozing off of him like mad. Then a sandy-haired teenaged Remus Lupin was staring, looking meek and shy, with his brow furrowed in concern to Sirius' right. Her body shuddered when she noticed a little, chubby, blonde Peter Pettigrew whimpering slightly behind the other boys, like the coward and background friend she'd known that he was.
It seemed that Neville's potion did indeed send her toppling into the past. "This is not possible," she whispered and began to feel dizzy.
All four boys registered the same amount of shock on their faces, like they were quadruplets.
Everything faded and Hermione fainted once more.
ooo
A/N - This fic is written in response to a Parody challenge. It will be ridiculous and filled with clichés galore! It's no secret that I'm a huge fan of time-travel fics, but it's good to make fun of yourself sometimes. ;)