-Hermione's Hectic Hour-
By Caspre
It's pretty. Gold, spindly, delicate. Even as I hold it still is twists and turns, shimmering slightly, timeless.
A staggering feeling of power washes over me. It takes a surprising amount of effort to control my breathing and steady my fingers as I hold this little thing in my hands.
"Now I'm placing a large amount of trust upon you, Miss Granger." Professor McGonagall says, looking almost concerned as she hands me the instruction leaflet. Perhaps she had seen the maddening gleam that had clouded my vision for just a second. I should really keep myself under control.
But this…this feeling.
Of opportunity…
For more knowledge than perhaps any Student who has been to Hogwarts has thirsted for before…
I draw in a shaky breath and nod solemnly.
"Yes, Professor." I whisper reverently.
"You are to use this Timeturner in the interest of attending all of your lessons only and for extra time on homework. You may not abuse this privilege that you have been granted with on the grounds of your exceptional schoolwork and behavior in the past."
"Yes, Professor." I can't help but glow. No matter how many times people tell you, it just doesn't get tiresome!
"You understand," Professor McGonagall continues, "That although you have gone back in time- using the correct amount of turns- the actions that you performed in that time period will simply be repeated whilst you can attend another class?"
"Yes, Professor."
"And in light of this, you may NOT be seen or heard by your past self or others that have conversed with you or seen you in another class or in the school corridors?"
"Yes, Professor." I nod again, almost violently. As if I would ever dream of upsetting the Chronology Protection Conjuncture! That would completely reinstitute the Fermi Paradox…but of course I'm sure Professor McGonagall knows all about this…
"Then quickly stow it away, Miss Granger, and we shall proceed to the Great Hall for the end of the Sorting. I wish you luck with your endeavours for this year."
--
"So what did McGonagall want?" Ron demands shovelling a Yorkshire pudding into his mouth whole. I slice a new potato neatly into halves, and then quarters, before popping a piece into my mouth. I chew it ten times, wash it down with some pumpkin juice, and then dab at my lips with the corner of a napkin. All of this is to buy me some time to think of something- and it is also good manners, that I'm hoping will brush off on him.
"Professor McGonagall," I correct him, "Just wanted to talk to me about my timetable. There was a little mistake."
"What, have you applied to take private lessons with Lockhart? At St. Mungos?" He sniggers, but the talk of lessons cuts off his interest at once, and he returns to his trough. I sniff and blush slightly at the mention of Professor Lockhart. Silly Ronald. If he knew the lengths I was going to, the hurdles I am preparing to leap…although he doesn't really know what a hurdle is…he'd be impressed, not mocking.
He would. He would be impressed.
Although maybe he would just shake his head and call me a show off.
I never seem to be able to get it right.
Meanwhile, Harry is still sore from fainting on the train. Poor Harry…but still, I was a little concerned that he couldn't identify what the Dementors were- there was a whole chapter on them in the Defence Against the Dark Arts book for Third Years …sometimes I get the suspicion that neither him nor Ron even look at their books before the new school year!
"Harry, aren't you going to eat any of your food?" I ask timidly. He's spearing his sprouts mutinously, glaring darkly at his meal.
"I'm not really hungry." He does look rather pale- but before I can even catalogue any symptoms for the after effects of shock in my head, Ron's fork flashes out of nowhere and within seconds Harry's plate is clean. Harry doesn't seem bothered.
"Ronald, the table is fit to bust with seconds, thirds and fourths!" I say disapprovingly.
"What if I want fifths?" He shot back, already halfway through Harry's food. Indignance shoots through me but I really can't be bothered to argue with Ron. Although my friend has never been as fond as books as I have, he always has the comeback that I can never quite grasp in time. Sometimes, when I'm brooding over it in bed the evening after, I come up with the perfect line but it's just too late. Even if I researched and researched the art of comic irony, my mind would fail me at that precise moment.
Although, when I think about it, if having quick wit meant I would have to trade in my grades, Ron can keep his little laughs.
As Ron tries to coax Harry into talk about Quidditch, I decide to switch off in the only opportunity that I feel comfortable doing so. My mind drifts away from "Waffles" and "Nudgers" to the little hourglass tucked beneath my robes, giving off a small amount of heat against my skin.
It's going to be an exciting year!
You BET it is ;D
Reviiiewwwssss…suggestions would also be well received if you have any interesting ideas :)