Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

.—.

1. first trajectory

"Hermione! Hermione, wake up!"

Hermione blinks her eyes, feeling like she'd been jolted out of some deep dream. Rubbing her eyes as she tries to wake herself up, she mumbles, "Mm, what's wrong, Lavender?"

Lavender huffs. "Finally. I've been trying to wake you up for ten minutes now! Your alarm has been been driving me crazy. I know you want to be early to class, but please turn it off."

"Class? Today's Saturday..." Hermione trails off, catching sight of her bedside calendar. "...It's Friday?!"

"Yes. It is. Now, will you please turn your alarm off?"

But Hermione is already rushing out of bed and changing into her robes, not even listening to Lavender anymore. In a record of seven minutes, she's done and is rushing out the door, only just remembering to turn off at the alarm at Lavender's yell as she runs past.

Within minutes, she's arrived in the Great Hall and plops down beside Ron and Harry, heaving as she tries to catch her breath from running so much. Slamming her heavy bag to the ground, she stops to take another breath before reaching for a piece of toast.

"Morning," She says simply, ignoring the two's stares as she starts to eat.

"Blimey, Hermione, you're the only one who would rush to be early to breakfast," Ron remarks, mouth full of omelet. Hermione tactfully ignores looking at him, only giving him a momentary glare.

"Well, I can't help but notice that the two of you are early as well." She looks between the two. "Anything special today?"

Harry and Ron suddenly busy themselves with their breakfast, refusing to meet their eyes.

"It's nothing," Harry insists.

"We just though we'd try it, you know?" Ron adds.

Hermione suspiciously looks at the two of them and raises an eyebrow. For a moment, she decides that she's not going to push it but then her curiosity quickly wins her over."Alright, what's going on."

Ron only hesitates for a second, glancing around suspiciously, before leaning closer to Hermione and saying in a low a voice,"Well, Harry and I overheard Professor McGonagall talking and it turns out the they're arriving today!"

"Who's arriving today?"

"Shh!" Ron hushes her, looking around again, though it looked like no one really heard or cared. He turns back to Hermione. "You know, the other schools?"

At Hermione's blank look, he continues. "For the Triwizard Tournament! Harry and I, we figured that maybe if we arrived early, we might be able to catch a peek of them. Though I guess they're not here yet..."

Hermione laughs. "Ron, are you daft? The Triwizard Tournament hasn't been—"

She stops and all the sleepiness drains out of her as she catches sight on Ron's face. For a few seconds, she's just frozen as she stares and stays like that until Ron's voice snaps her out of her daze.

"What? Do I got something on my face?'

Hermione shivers out of her reverie, and shakes her head, plastering a smile on her face. "No, I was only seeing things."

(Why do you look like you're fourteen years old, Ron? You haven't had long hair since last year.)

Ron just shrugs, and within seconds, him and Harry are talking about the new arrivals, mostly Ron fantasizing about the Beauxbatons girls while Harry, not really paying attention, tries to inconspicuously stare at Cho. Hermione, free of their attention, takes the time to look around and suddenly notices all the differences.

It wasn't just Ron—everyone looked about two years younger. And Ron had mentioned the Triwizard Tournament... Was this some sort of elaborate prank?

"Hermione, c'mon. Let's go to Transfiguration."

Hermione breaks out of her daze and gathers up her stuff, following Harry and Ron out of the Great Hall. As they walk, she reaches into her bag to take her out notes and review them quickly, when—BAM!

"Oof!" "Ah!"

Hermione finds herself on the floor, backpack and books strewn beside her. She starts to pick them up distractedly, about to reach the last book when she sees a hand holding it out to her.

"Oh thank you," She says as she takes it, rising up as she puts the books back into her bag. "Sorry about that."

"I must apologize as well; I'm afraid I wasn't looking where I was walking," The other person says, and just as Hermione's about to reply, she looks up and stops.

"D-diggory," She stutters out, the name slipping before she can stop it.

There stood Cedric Diggory, looking just as she had remembered, and very much alive. For a moment, she's just frozen as she stares at him, unable to stop herself. This was no prank—surely no one would be that cruel. And he had felt so warm when she had bumped into him... Maybe...

Had she somehow landed back into her fourth year?

But Hermione quickly squashes the thought; not only was it unlikely, seeing as she hadn't had a Time-Turner since her third year, but it just wasn't possible to go back as far as two years. There was probably some other cause, maybe she had accidentally ingested a potion that would cause her to relive some of her memories. Or she was probably still asleep. There's definitely an explanation. A proper, reasonable explanation.

Cedric's face lights up in recognition. "Oh that's right! You were there at the World Cup, weren't you! Hermione Granger, am I right?" At her nod, he continues. "Well, it's nice to see you again! I hope I didn't ruin of your notes, did I?"

"No, I think they're fine." (She was talking to a dead person. Having an almost normal conversation with a dead person.)

"That's good. Well, maybe I'll see you around?"

"Yeah." (Dead dead dead dead.)

And as Cedric turns to leave, Hermione can't help but stare at his retreating back, still somewhat dazed, yet at the same time, mind running thousand miles per hour. This was just some illusion, a Confundus charm of some sort.

But what if the whole thing was real?

And then McGonagall's words from her third year echo in her head, hammering into her head the rules of time travel, do not be seen and do not meddle with events Ms. Granger, but the idea has already sneaked into her mind before she could stop it and she can't but fantasize about the possibility. Even if was wrong, illegal, and dangerous, if she really had gone back in time, if she really was in her fourth year... could she change the future?

Could she save Cedric's life?

A few seconds later, she turns and catches up with Ron and Harry who had been waiting and watching the conversation the whole time. Ron, in particular, was glaring at her, making Hermione suddenly feel self-conscious as she crosses her arms.

"What?" She says defensively.

"Didn't think you were the type to go after a pretty boy like Diggory," He sneers as he looks her up and down. "Only care about looks now, do you?"

Hermione narrows her eyes, but just as she's about to reply with a full-brown criticism about his taste, she stops, realizing that this was not the time. After all, the whole thing probably wasn't even real. So instead, she only gives him a baleful, "Shove off, Ron" before turning to Harry and asking, "Tell Professor McGonagall that I'm not feeling too well, okay?"

And she turns around, stalking straight off in the other direction.

"The Hospital Wing is the other way!" Harry calls from behind.

"I know! I'm going to the library!"

There was some reasonable explanation, one that made sense, one that fit into the laws of magic and time and paradoxes. She just had to find it.

.—.

One hour later and Hermione can only come to one conclusion.

"Merlin, I'm in the past."

.—.

Author's Notes: I always love the going back-in-time-to-a-younger-self stories, except I had always wished there were some more that were centered on Hermione. So here's my contribution! I'm hoping it won't turn out too predictable and overdone. I'm just setting up in this chapter, but things will pick up soon. But please, tell me what you think or give me possible ideas—any feedback, good or bad, is appreciated. And thank you for reading! =D