Chapter One
Disclaimer: Anything affiliated to Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. It does not belong to me no matter how much I wish it did. Anything affiliated to Doctor Who belongs to BBC and the writers. I do not own it. I am not Satan.
The sun shone through the window causing a glare to appear on the pictures that lined the pale purple walls. Dust particles floated through the air. The usual neat and tidy blankets on the bed were now crumpled by the weight of someone sitting on them. Hermione Granger sat there staring at the wall. Her back was straight and her hands were folded in her lap. Her face was scrunched up in concentration as she gazed at the one blemish on the wall. While three of the walls remained clean and perfect the fourth one bore a large crack in the middle. This is what the young woman stared at. She wouldn't have bothered with it usually, she would've just flicked her wand and it would repair itself. But this crack wasn't ordinary. It was far from it.
Hermione was perplexed by it. For sometimes she would hear things, and as she was the only one in the house, she could only trace it back to the crack. And sometimes she would see things, out of the corner of her eye while she was sitting at her desk, she would catch movement coming from behind the crack. Hermione had a vast knowledge of magical things, yet she never recalled anything about this. Even after searching through book after book, she still remained clueless. Hermione was utterly stumped by this split in the wall.
She had told her friends about it, hoping that they would know something, but they brushed it off saying that the war messed with her head, and that it was only a figment of her imagination. Hermione knew better though. This wasn't in her head. This was as real as the house she lived in.
As she studied it more and more, the more curios she became. She was quite certain that she wasn't supposed to see the swish of fabric, or hear snippets of conversations coming from a crack. Hermione wondered what it possibly could be. If she learned one thing from the boys in her primary school, it was that if you were curious about something, you should touch it. So that's exactly what Hermione did that day all alone in her room, and it was possibly the worst decision she had ever made.
Hermione reached her hand out to trace the crack with her finger. She knew she shouldn't have touched an unknown magical thing, but her curiosity was killing her. However, instead of feeling broken wall, she felt her finger go through it. She only had a few seconds of wondering before the rest of her body was sucked through too. It wasn't exactly like apparating, though the sensation was quite similar. It only lasted briefly and then Hermione was standing in a deserted hallway. It wasn't just any hallway though, it was a Hogwarts one. "But it couldn't be," she thought, "The Hogwarts I know is rubble." And that was the truth. Not I single place was intact. The final battle made sure of that. "So where am I?"
She looked around. Not a single person was in sight. The walls were black from the dark, and shadows lay in every corner. Hermione walked along, hoping to see some clue as to where she was. All was quiet except for her footsteps.
She rounded a corner and spotted a figure. Before she could do anything, the person called out.
"Hello? It's late; you shouldn't be out of bed."
The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't place to whom it belonged to. Hermione walked toward the man and explained, "Oh um, well I'm actually a little lost, and..." her voice trailed off as she saw who called out.
Before her stood Dumbledore, but not the Dumbledore she knew. He was younger, with auburn hair and less lines upon his face. His eyes still twinkled blue like the one she had known. Amongst the blue was curiosity.
"And who are you? I can't seem to remember your face. And where are your robes?"
"Well you see," Hermione stuttered, "um..I'm Hermione, and," she tried to think of a story as to why she was here, but her brain wasn't coming up with anything.
With curiosity still in his eyes, yet with a kinder voice Dumbledore spoke, "You seem to have a lot to tell. Some of which you aren't so sure about yourself. Maybe we should go to my office and sort everything out. Would you mind following me?"
Flabbergasted by his assessment she merely nodded her head and walked behind him. They walked in silence. The only noises were the swishing of his robes and the clunking of shoes. They walked for a few minutes, and then Dumbledore stopped in front of a door.
"After you." He gestured her in with his hand. Hermione walked in and looked around. The trinkets that had been in his office when he was headmaster were now littered around the smaller room.
"Please, have a seat." Dumbledore pointed to the red chair in front of his desk. She sat down on the comfortable seat while Dumbledore took the one behind his desk.
"So, what are you doing here Ms…?" he looked at her.
"Granger. Hermione Granger." She told him, deciding it was best to be honest with him.
"Alright Ms. Granger, I am Albus Dumbledore. I'm the Transfiguration teacher. Now, would you like to tell me how you got here?"
Hermione took a breath then started the story, "I'm from the year 1998," Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at that, but didn't say anything, "There was a crack in my wall at home. It wasn't an ordinary crack. Sometimes I would hear or see things coming from it. I didn't know what it was and
I made the stupid mistake of touching it. I sort of Apparated here, and then you found me. I'm not quite sure what happened."
"Hm. Well that is quite peculiar. You are not lying to me I presume?"
"No, of course not sir."
"Well Ms. Granger I'm not entirely sure what happened, but I have my guesses. An old friend of mine once said, 'People assume that time is a straight progression of cause and effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective view point- it's more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff.' It seems to me that that crack was a door to here. I'm not sure how it got there, but it did and that's what's important." Dumbledore gazed at her over his half-moon spectacles. Hermione didn't know what to think, and there was one thing that stuck in her mind, "Where and when was here?" she voiced the question out loud.
"You are at Hogwarts in the year 1943." He told her.
"Are you kidding me?"
"No Ms. Granger, I am not kidding. Though I'm sure you want me to be."
"But...But, is there any way to get back?" Hermione hoped he would say yes because she did not want to stay here forever, away from her everyone, from Harry and Ron.
"I think that if you wished to go back to your time, and I'm quite positive you do, that you will need to find the crack that leads back there," he mused.
"But that'll take ages," she exclaimed, "This is an old castle, there must be hundreds of cracks!"
"Then it looks like you will be stuck here for a while, and if you are to stay, you will need to get sorted into a house and acquire supplies. You did go to Hogwarts before?"
"Yes, I did, but won't people wonder who I am and where I came from?"
"Yes, people will wonder, as that's their natural instinct. You will need a cover story. It'll be disastrous for them to know who you truly are," Dumbledore thought for a moment, "How about this? You were homeschooled by your overprotective mother. You begged her to let you come here and she finally allowed you to. Yes, I think that will do. You might need a different last name as well. How about Perkins?"
"That's fine. Okay, so I was homeschooled, got it. When will I get sorted?"
"Since I'm sure the Headmaster is sleeping right now, you will get sorted tomorrow before breakfast. You may sleep in the guest quarters for tonight. I will get the house-elves to send you some clothes. Do you have any questions?"
"No sir."
"Well then Hermione, let me show you to your room."
They both got up and exited his office. He took her through many hallways and finally stopped beside a wooden door.
"Goodnight Ms. Granger. I'll see you in the morning." He gave her a little bow.
"Goodnight, sir."
Dumbledore walked away leaving Hermione alone in the hallway. She pushed open the door and walked inside. The room was simple, containing a bed, wardrobe, desk, and a door that led to a bathroom. She saw that there was already a pile of clothes in the middle of the bed. She walked over and pulled out a pair of pajamas. Hermione put them on then lay down on the bed. Thinking over everything that happened that day and wondering whether she was ever going to see her friends again, she began feeling drowsy. Without even getting under the covers she fell asleep wondering what she was going to do here.