So this is a story (Well the beginning of one) I've had laying around for I'm not sure how long but I finally got this urge to visit it again. So after litterally 7 days of revising and completely redoing I've also finally gotten up the courage to publish it. I'm bad that way, I have tons of first chapters or ideas written down for later that I never publish and I'm not sure why.
Well not anymore, I'm going to try my darndest to actively be publishing my stories, as long as people enjoy them.
I do not own the brilliant works of J.K. Rowling Harry Potter, no that would be her. But I wish I did, and if she wanted to share I think that would be fine.
Enjoy.
SUMMARY: The definition of Insanity is doing the same things over and over again and expecting a different outcome. But what if instead you changed a few things along the way, is it still crazy to want a different outcome than the one fate's handed you? And if you had the chance to change your fate, would you? Praeteritum Exhibere is a potion that can transport the user to any point in their past.Death Sentence Fitting For a Death Eater. She needed him alive and approachable. Well that all depends on your fate I guess. Now Hermione's going back to change their past before the worst can happen.
Crookshanks jumped at the sound of the morning paper hitting the counter with excessive force. It wasn't unusual though for him to be woken from a mid-morning nap by the frustration of his owner, which is why he only gave her a half-hearted hiss before strutting off to find a quieter place to continue his newly disrupted mid-morning nap.
Hermione on the other hand, didn't even pay attention to her long haired companion as she regarded the morning paper with distaste. It was a joke in her opinion, the whole thing. The 'where are they now?' edition that the Daily Prophet did was constantly dedicated to the 'the worlds saviours' or more commonly known as the Golden Trio every Sunday so everyone knew exactly where they were. The section that they deemed factual and accurate stories that needed to be told was actually nothing more than a gossip section, and its anonymous resources were that common word of mouth. And like every other topic it revolved around the three of them.
Ron had changed the most after the war. He was so glorified up on his pedestal that he'd seemed to have forgotten all about his brother who died for him and about the family who at every Sunday dinner still set a place for someone they knew would never walk through the door to sit there again while Ron stuffed himself with food. Sometimes she thought it was his way of grieving; act like what caused him so much pain had never existed but she thought he'd show some signs of this act at some point. Or that he'd have his moments where he broke down completely from all the grief. However he never did.
And Harry was featured on every page. Whether it was because he was the Minister of Magic or whether it was because he was the Harry Potter they never state, but if she could guess she'd bet her money on the later. Harry lost a lot after the war, he was at a loss with the added attention the press gave him but at times he was still the same boy she'd met on the train while looking for Neville's toad. He lost some of the little confidence he already had because of the people that died young during the span of the war. He blamed himself for every gravestone or obituary published because of the effects of the war. He never admitted it but she knew he only took the position of Minister of Magic because it had been offered to him and people told him if anyone could repair all the damage he could. They told him he was the symbol of hope. So now he was trying to mend all the damage he thought he'd done. But he didn't see himself as a leader anymore, he wasn't the chosen one in his eyes; all that faded when he saw the repercussions of the war. He attended every funeral held just to punish himself a little more. He closed himself off a little more than before and he listened to the opinions of others more when making decisions. He often gave the excuse that he was the Minister and he had to listen to the thoughts and opinions of the people. She thought he was lying through his teeth. He had less of a backbone now then a snake.
Rita Skeeter was basically the new Voldemort. Not in the sense that she tortured people senseless and instilled fear into the deepest parts of their soul but she had the effect of taking away a lot of peoples own opinions leaving them basically without any free will. She was able to influence the weak minded through her blasted paper which really was a vicious cycle. The people who were easily influenced were those without the confidence to stand up for themselves, those people lacked hope and after a war as dark as this one, very little hope as left. Thus, too many people couldn't define right from wrong or truth from tales. But the press wasn't the only thing getting on her nerves this morning. It was life itself that was pushing her around.
How would you think the future is supposed to look? The obvious answer to that question she supposed would be that the future is more hopeful than the present. A place and time where optimism shines as brightly as the sun and you have everything you could ever want at your fingertips ready for the taking. The future is the green grass on the other side, and somewhere along the way you finally jumped the fence to get there. Its where smiles are seen more often than stars shining in the darkness from above the cover of trees. But then again the real world was a little more complicated than that. However you'd think that a few years after a war, during the rebuilding of the future that it would be a little happier. Simple as that.
So why was getting to that future that everyone envisions so hard? This future that was now her present was not what she wanted. If she had known this would have been her life a decade ago it wouldn't have come as a relief to her. And she would have done things differently back then if she could have to change this outcome. But that was the hard part wasn't it. If you had the chance to change your fate, would you? That was an easy question. How would you change it, what things would you do differently the second time around to change your fate? That was the hard part. She'd tried thinking about it into the long hours of the night, but she could barely find where things went wrong.
And there was another thing.
The Dark Lord was gone, but he'd left a mark that seemed impossible to remove. Like a tattoo or a scar, always visible. Confidence in a new better future was shattered. Hope made its appearace every now and then but it wasn't easy to find, nor was it easy to find a reason to hold onto the hope you might have left over.
Voldemort was gone, but the prejudice he reinforced was not. And what bothered her most, was that it wasn't prejudice left over from the war. It wasn't the 'pure bloods' poor perspectives towards others that fed the prejudice which hid in the shadows of everyday life. The tables had turned. This prejudice was a new prejudice, one born during the repercussions of a war; created from bitterness and cynicism.
The prejudice became the discriminated, and vice versa. Those who prided themselves of being impartial to all throughout the dark years suddenly separated people into two categories; the worthy, and the worthless.
The house rivalries often found in Hogwarts had followed its graduating students out into the real world where the consequences were much more severe.
Slytherins were deemed the 'new' muggleborns. No matter whom they were, where family they came from or the positive affects they may have made during the times of the war, being a Slytherin meant they got the least amount of respect of all wizarding people. Even young witches and wizards who weren't even eligible for Hogwarts at the time of the war let alone to participate in it. They were treated like filth. Nothing better, but occasionally, under the correct circumstances, a lot less.
Being a member of the Great Salazar Slytherin's house segregated you from everyone else here in this time, and it wasn't as if you could hide the simple fact that you were Slytherin, nor should you have to in her opinion. It kept some people from getting Ministry positions, moving up in their employment ranks or finding work at all. They weren't treated with any respect, if an unsolved crime had taken place and Aurors had no leads, the first accusation they made was towards them. They received the stares of disgust she'd once been so familiar with. They weren't pitied like she was at one point though. People didn't think of it as a shame to discriminate against them since they weren't Potter's little friend or a bright young witch born to the 'wrong' parents.
To turn the tables wasn't any better than to leave them as they were, handing back to someone what they'd dealt to you made you no better than them. But not everybody could see that. Today they said, today it was their turn.
And Gryffindors could do no wrong. They were treated like they could walk on water and banish darkness at their will. If you belonged to the house of the brave, you meant something no matter what you'd done. They got away with a lot more and let the Slytherins take the blame. They took advantage of their situation in today's age, completely turn a blind eye to what it means to belong to the once honoured house.
When confronted about any possible felonies or accused on the account of committing an offence, they got off practically Scott-free. And you would never hear about such events in any daily press where a Gryffindor was held responsible for a crime as that might put a dint in their perfect images as the modern day divinities.
Yes, no doubt the house rivalries had found their way into the real world, only now, it was three against one with no teachers to intervene.
The world was unbalanced in Hermione's eyes. You could no longer tell right from wrong or knew where to draw the line to even begin to differentiate between them. The dark ages may be gone but it still seemed as though the darkness was clouding the vision of today's witches and wizards and left people chaotic. Clarity was lost.
The sun was still shining, but there wasn't any warmth to it anymore. Friendliness was hard to find between the strangers passing on the streets, and hope had fallen between the crakes in their judgement. This wasn't the future she'd imagined. Voldemort was gone, but people were more divided than ever. Some were bitter others felt betrayed, some helpless some hopeless, the famous and the forgotten. Two sides forever separated because people could not simply let go of the past and let bygones be bygones. The world had fallen off its orbit and it seemed it hadn't even noticed yet.
There was no war, but there was no peace either.
All signs of humanity and decency towards other human beings had been long discarded with the coming of the new 'age' when the side that emitted hope for all who were banished to the darkness had turned its back on the future its success depended on. The headlining story that had agitated her to no end about just how inconsiderate people could be towards others and their about basic rights as human beings was just one more last straw that pushed her to doing what she'd been preparing to do for months. And though she'd thrown the Daily Prophet down her eyes continued to drift to the article that she'd been unsuccessful in covering up and it was the same article that irritated her more than any other.
Death Sentence Fitting for a Death Eater
His picture flaunting across the front page as if this piece of news was worth a celebration. His frame was thin, his face hollow, and his eyes, once shinning with mischief and pride, now lifeless and muted. Something she guessed was bound to occur after five years in Azkaban.
How had things turned out like this? Why wasn't today different? The way she'd imagined it? Influence she'd guessed. Some people that had switched sides at the last minute and had helped impact the outcome weren't properly recognized or helped from their current situation. It wasn't Harry's fault though, just after the war he told her the names of the people he'd wanted to have exempt from punishment but she had a feeling someone had convinced him otherwise because of personal issues with those certain people. Claiming to let the guilty go would only place more fear in the hearts of the citizens, and they'd lose all confidence they had in him. Even going as far as using Dumbledore as an example of how he was determined to see the good that sometimes didn't exist in people and how eventually he lost the respect he needed to lead efficiently to prove their point. Death Eaters belonged in Azkeban. A prime example would be the bad blood between the Malfoy's and Ron whose so thick-headed he can't let bygones be bygones.
It seemed she was the only one who found injustice in the execution of Draco Malfoy. She seemed to be the only one who disliked handing him the kiss for punishment of his minimal deeds and his wavering alliance.
Though the post had only been delivered to the homes of innumerable wizard families less than an hour ago, so many people were buzzing with the news. She'd already received a letter from Ron on how justice had finally prevailed, though his exact words were 'the git's finally got what's been coming to him'. Harry sent her a letter to her asking if she'd seen the paper and looking for advice on whether or not Azkaban had been the right decision. In her opinion that question was five years to late. And as the Minister she would have thought he'd have more confidence in his own choices, but then again this was a choice he made through the persuasion of others instead of processing all the determining details. And she knew how little faith Harry had in himself now a days. Just the thought however that some of her friends, who claimed they fought for life, were so willing to participate in the execution of Draco Malfoy was enough to spoil her lunch.
Lives were lost so everyone could live a free life, a life where they could make their own choices, be themselves, and get a second chance. But she'd recently learned those were exclusive rights that weren't extended to everyone. Some people they kept an eye on from time to time for wanting to switch sides in the war when all hope seemed lost. Others were watched much more closely and it wasn't a secret who those individuals were. Many were former Slytherins such as Pansy Parkinson for wanting to hand Harry over to Voldemort before the war really began. A decision made in a paralyzing moment of fear determined the rest of your life in some cases. Then there were the people like Draco Malfoy, who'd signed up to fight for Voldemort, but hadn't really done anything of service for Voldemort who were sent straight to Azkaban, no trial no chance for an explanation.
Just looking at the picture of the once bright blonde boy made her forearm tingle in the most uncomfortable way, things hadn't changed. People liked to think they had but they really hadn't.
The war hadn't changed the wizarding way of life, just the wizards themselves.
She looked down at the picture again; Malfoy's face was lowered to the ground and hidden from view as his bangs hung in his eyes. His posture hunched, and he didn't move. It wasn't until the wizard picture would start again as she saw his head raise at someone's comment briefly before staring back to the floor.
There was no man inside of that shell. She knew what they did to Azkaban prisoners was awful, but she also knew that plenty of people believed the Malfoys needed to pay for all they'd done. Unfortunately for Malfoy with the death of Lucius Malfoy a few months after the war ended and the passing of Narcissa Malfoy two years ago in Azkaban, it fell onto their son to pay for their deeds. She knew that he wouldn't pay for it in a way he'd have hoped for; handing out donations to places like the children center in St. Mungo's wasn't going to help him this time.
Tearing herself from the paper she walked into the guest bedroom she'd converted into a personal study in her flat. It wasn't a big room but she didn't need big. She just needed workable. The room was an odd room, cluttered with books but nothing out of its place. A small cauldron on the side of the desk and a cabinet of potion ingredients sitting in the corner. And a large book sticking out of one of the many bookshelves more than the rest indicating it was used plenty. Pulling the large leather bound book titled 'The Past is our Future' and placing it on an empty space on the desk with a thud.
The book was seemingly a fiction book written to inspire others to let go of their past and shape their own destinies; similar to a prop a motivational speaker would use. However someone had seen something in this large book that others just passed off as nothing.
Things started changing for her last winter when she'd bought her new flat.
Unpacking boxes was a difficult task with only two hands. Especially when the boxes were so heavy due to all the books she lugged around. Why did she have so much stuff? It took her hours to unpack the majority of the boxes before her clock told her it was working late into the early hours of the morning. She began debating whether or not to head to bed and finish up in the morning when she decided on one more box. Choosing the closest box and opening disregarding the label on the side she was surprised to find all her treasures from what should have been her seventh year. The box was filled with little things like the bag she'd charmed to hold untold amounts of necessary objects, a vile containing a little of her Bellatrix polyjuice potion, the dress she wore to Bill and Fleur's wedding and the children's book for young witches and wizards Dumbledore had left her.
Rummaging thoroughly the box she couldn't find the will to actually tare herself away from what she'd found so she could actually put any of the boxes contents away properly. Deciding a moment of reminiscing was in order she started flipping through 'The Tales of Beetle the Bard'. But a page caught her attention as she flipped through. This page was darker than all the other pages in apperance; crinkled a little more too. It appeared as though it had aged quicker than the other pages. Making note of the page number she searched for a logical answer. How does one page wither so much when all the other pages remain relatively the same? Even more so how had she never noticed such a detail before?
After that she couldn't get the book out of her head. Deciding sleep would do her some good she tossed and turned thinking restlessly about the page until sleep took her. Weeks passed and the book remained in the back of her mind where ever she went. Finally deciding to put an end to the suspicions she had of the hand me down book she owled the new Headmistress of Hogwarts seeking permission to dig through a few of Dumbledore's old things. She had an idea why one page might be older than the others.
Professor McGonagall accepted her request and allowed her access into the grounds whenever she wanted. She informed her in the letter that she never moved any of Dumbledore's old trinkets and treasures so finding what she was looking for shouldn't be so hard.
The office was just as she remembered it. Fawkes even remained on his perch below the balcony and welcomed her with a chirp. She didn't know precisely where she should begin looking, but she knew she was looking for another copy of The Tales of Beetle the Bard. The noise from the corridors didn't carry into the office leaving her in the silence of her own thoughts as she rumaged through her old Headmasters things for countless hours.
That was until she found it. Between two large books at the top of a bookshelf not necessarily hidden resided a torn up copy of the same book that had been handed down to her by her Headmaster. However on the inside of the torn up cover was written in faintly legible script To my Albus, These stories can teach you of things some of us cannot begin to understand. They speak of myths and legends that might surprise you and morals if you concentrate on finding them. Let these lessons guide you and use them well. Love, Mother. Based on the books tattered appearance he must have flipped through it thousands of times. Someone had told her once that the things we hold dear to us aren't always in the best condition because we crumple them when we hold them close. This was a prime example.
Flipping through the book she looked for page forty-nine, the page that in her book had been much older than the rest. Suspicions confirmed she found a page considerably newer than the book sewn into the bind. But on this page there was a thin envelope with green border and elegant script that read Unicorn Mane, Heliopath Dark Fire and Moon Frog Slime taped to the front. Taking the unopened envelope and placing it in an inside pocket in her robes she left the castle grounds. She should have known that anything involving Albus Dumbledore was never coincidental.
It felt like she was reliving what Ron called the 'Glory Days' as she tried to piece together this puzzle her old Professor left for her behind. It didn't take her long to figure out they were potions ingredients but for months she searched to no avail for where these three specific ingredients cold be used together. Her search would have been easier if she had a large search engine at her disposal but as she did not she spent most of her free time at libraries cross referencing the uses of these unique ingredients.
At one point she thought she'd gotten close to finding what Dumbledore wanted her to find, but instead of Moon Frog Slime the potion required Moon Frog Silk. Adding to the equation that two of the ingredients belonged to mythological creatures that most believed never existed, finding reference books became tricky. She opened the envelope once when she became empty hearted and was astonished at what she found.
The hairs from the Unicorn Mane were thin and silver with a small blue ribbon tying around twenty strands together. They were more fragile than she imagined anything could be. With a simple touch one of the hairs almost melted onto her finger. The Moon Frog Slime was silver during the night that resembled Unicorn blood and gleamed with a type of sparkle that reminded her of a certain pair of blue eyes. But in day light, the slime turned to a burgundy solid substance that only returned to its natural state when submerged in warm fresh water. But most astonishing of all the rare substances was the Heliopath Dark Fire. It was navy in color but sometimes gold flickered within the flames. Like Ravenclaw and Gryffindor mixed their colours together to form a banner. The fire radiated enormous amounts of heat during the night; she remembered reading somewhere that the night fuelled the fire somehow. However in the day it continued radiating amounts of heat incomprehensible but when skin came in contact with the flames it felt cool and refreshing. She originally hadn't meant to touch the flame but Crookshanks had startled her when he knocked a table over in the other room and when she jumped her hand flew through the flames.
Placing each of the materials in protected potion vials in a locket cabinet she continued her research, only ever taking out the ingredients when her research had taken upon an all-time low. It took her a total of five months to find what she'd been looking for after she'd visited Dumbledore's office. And she really had only one place to put her gratitude and it wasn't for her own perseverance.
She'd all but given up on this little expedition, the only thing stopping her from actually giving up was her pride. Hermione Granger did not give up it whispered when times were looking grim. She was sitting in a coffee shop struggling to keep her eyes open due to the previous late night when a voice startled her causing her to jump from her seat.
"Hermione," The dreamy voice which startled her spoke. How such a melodic voice startled her she could only assume she was loosing her touch. Or the excessive amounts of caffeine and lack of sleep had made her a little jittery. "Are you sleeping alright? It looks as if the Weetimorousbeastie has been singing above your head."
"Luna," She greeted the blonde while trying to calm her racing heart. "How have you been?"
She hadn't seen Luna since she was invited to the Burrow for the Christmas holidays last winter. Winter was now approaching closely once more. "I'm well thanks." She smiled, her eyes scanning the air above Hermione's head.
"Are you sure your bedroom isn't infested with Weetimorousbeasties? They are quite the little mischievous creatures that tend to cause sleepless nights. Though they aren't as mischievous as Moon Frogs I suppose. They like to sit outside the window at night you know and sing songs as the moon rises. Awfully loud if you ask me, but I like listening to them anyway." Her mind began drifting as Luna spoke in her dreamy tone until her ears caught the sentence about Moon Frogs. She could have slapped her head at the moment. It was really silly not to ask Luna about such creatures prior to all the nights she spent researching until the early hours of the morning. Although she could understand why the thought never arouse in her mind as she hadn't thought of asking anyone in fear they'd become curious and ask what she was looking for.
After that the sun seemed to shine a little brighter. She spent the afternoon with Luna looking through books about each of these creatures and not once did Luna ask why she needed the information. Late in the evening Luna recommended one book she'd pulled from her Father's collection that sounded too farfetched to be true. Luna said there was something in there as far as she could remember that had a section that included all three creatures that her ingredients came from so giving it a chance she took the book home with her and found exactly what Luna said she would find. A small paragraph was written about a journal the author had found that contained information on an extremely difficult potion that contained three almost impossible to attain ingredients; Unicorn Mane, Heliopath Dark Fire, and Moon Frog Slime. However it had never been recorded if anyone had been successful in using the potion or if anyone had even attempted it.
Standing over the same book now she reread the same paragraph written in a chicken scratch script that she'd been reading for the last three months.
Praeteritum Exhibere:
Praeteritum Exhibere is an extremely powerful potion that accompanied with a semi adjusted time turner can transport the user to any point in their past. However there is no guarantee the user will be transported to the exact point in their past they requested. It is most likely that the exact date should only vary by a few days. Also note that unlike using the Time Turner there will be no second self in the past to allow the user to relive their past without using extreme caution so as to not be seen by their original self. Using this potion and an adjusted time turner places you back into your past self without the original. Therefore there is also no way to get back to the present you are in. As the 'original' user in the past has been vanished the user must relive their past in order to get back into their future.
The steps to produce a properly mixed Praeteritum Exhibere are as followed:
Begin the fire beneath the Cauldron while adding a pinch of Heliopath Dark Fire
3 Cracked Ashwinder Egg
Add 1 Jobberknoll Feather
Mix well with 2 drops of Dragon Blood
Stir clockwise 4 and a half turns then leave to simmer for 3 days
On the eve of the third day add 3 Mandrake Roots
Add 7 Puffer-fish Eyes each a minute apart exactly.
Add 16 crushed Rose Thorns
Stir counter-clockwise 6 times then clockwise 2 before leaving the cauldron to simmer for a week
At noon on the seventh day add a powdered mixture of 2 blades of Star Grass and 6 drops of Salamander blood
Turn the heat up a tenth of a degree
Wait 3 hours and 15 minutes before adding 13 droops Moon Frog Slime and 1 crushed Venomous Tentacula Leaf
Leave the Cauldron until an hour after the Sun sets and add 3 hairs from a Unicorn's Mane
When the Sun first peaks the next morning add as much Heliopath Dark Fire as you have to strengthen the potion
Add 3 spoonful's of Wartcap Powder and half a vile of crushed Moonstone immediately after you add the Heliopath Dark Fire
Wait exactly 19 days while the cauldron simmers on low until you drink this potion
Before Drinking the Potion two more things must be added.
Much like in the circumstances of the well-known Polyjuice potion a single strand of the user's hair is required to be able to transport themselves to another time. Also a piece of an object that was significant around the time the user wishes to change must be added. Drop both the strand of hair and the piece of said significant object into the cauldron at the same time moments before consumption for the potion to work to its full ability.
Safety and Risks:
Certain ingredients required for this potion are used for the user's own safety. Mandrake Roots should prevent any splinching that may result in the separation of a body part which shall remain in a different time period. Risks that follow the consummation of this potion may include a foggy memory of the future or no memory at all. The user may also experience similar feelings that they would have felt at that specific time period or a sense of loss for an unexplainable reason which may actually be due to the knowledge that part of the user who originally lived through the past has now been erased.
Note: This potion alone will not take the user back to the past. In order to fulfill such a large magical request there must be two parts each equally difficult. Along with the correctly brewed Praeteritum Exhibere a Time Turner is required. However the Time Turner must be adjusted specifically to fit requirements. The sand that sits in the hourglass part of the Time Turner must be replaced with a small amount of crushed and boiled Unicorn Mane, Moon Frog Slime and Heliopath Dark Fire. Also a memory to the specific time and place must be pulled and placed within the small hourglass.
For extra precautions an incantation is also required. After consuming the potion while wearing the newly adjusted Time Turner simply utter the words: Praeteritum exhibere ad figurant futurum oportet mutare praeterita
Finally, note that the potion will not take effect immediately as one would expect a Time Turner to. It is most likely that the potion will wait until both the body and the mind are resting before transporting it back in time so to improve the ability and accuracy of Praeteritum Exhibere give the potion at a minimum a few hours to run through the body before sleeping.
The Time Turner was easier than she expected it to be. Using the old Time Turner McGonagall had given her back in third year she simply tinkered with it for a while before figuring out a way to replace the sand with the special mixture without breaking the glass. The memory would have been trickier if Dumbledore hadn't let her openly interact with a pensieve during the many times she'd visited his office. After working with the pensieve she took it into her own hands to learn how to extract memories if she were to ever come upon such an object again. Choosing the memory of her Mother helping her pack her bags at home before sixth year was an obvious choice as it was a pleasant memory and still vivid in her mind as most memories concerning her parents were. After adding the distinct memory to the mixture inside the Time Turner it was officially prepped and ready for transportation.
The potion had taken her roughly a month after she'd collected all the strange ingredients. Most she found at Apothecary down in Diagon Alley where she supposed most Wizards involved in Potion making bought their supplies. The few other ingredients were hard to come by and she ended up resulting to black markets and illegal trading centers, which also meant brewing a Polyjuice potion to avoid being recognized. That could have been problematic. However she'd been able to collect each ingredient within a reasonable amount of time, and then started on the potion immediately, which was now a lumpy green color but completely ready none the less.
She'd also been practicing uttering the incantation since the potion had been left to simmer until she was able to say it clearly with confidence. She'd been able to do that now for over a week and could even utter it in her sleep if the potion required her to do so. The proper pronunciation of spells had always come easy to her even at a young age so repeating a simple Latin incantation as no more difficult than talking Hagrid into giving you more information than he should have.
And as for the extra ingredients, the hair strand was easy. And she was confident this time that it was her own. However she devoted much of her thought to what object was significant to what piece of time she wanted to change. In between sixth and seventh year was where she needed to make the changes but she didn't want to just suddenly change her actions. She needed time to gradually make changes along the way to avoid extra suspicion. Which is why the time and place she'd chosen was just before returning to Hogwarts for her sixth year. However this object needed to be significant around the time closer to their expedition in seventh year. Finally deciding upon the small purse she'd charmed to contain all of their necessities while on the run not more than a few days ago she cut a piece of fabric out and had it placed on her desk.
And that was it. Today was the day. The potion was ready and so was she. She knew changes needed to be made just before the war really started up. That also meant repeating seven years of her life. However, if she could change the past five years after the war and relive a happier life closer to what she'd expected those years would have resembled, she'd happily relive each moment until she was back. Hopefully this time to the future she imagined. Now she was ready. Today she was going to turn back the clock and with any luck change the future. And of course, second chances were practically made from luck.
Placing the Time Turner around her neck her mother's voice rang through her mind as if re-teaching one of her many life lessons. If you want something done right you've got to do it yourself.
Dropping the specific ingredients into the potion she then took a ladle and scooped up enough potion to fill her mug. Chugging back the drink she expected it to taste as awful as the Polyjuice potion did. However she was pleasantly surprised to find it really had no taste at all. In fact it almost tasted like water without the thirst quenching bit and the added fact that she could feel each lump in the potion as she swallowed.
She didn't know how she would change the future or what she would change to change everything. But she knew of a man that may know just how to do it.
However she needed him alive and approachable.
I know this chapter is really long, not all of the ones after this one will be. I just think that first chapters have to be long and descriptive so you have an idea of what's going on. That's also why I don't really like writting them because no excitement really happens, but it's done and I hope you enjoyed.
So what were your thoughts?
Any idea who Hermione may need to talk to? Personally I feel it's rather obvious, but at the same time it could be very misleading. Though that may be just because I wrote it.
I don't think there's anything in my life yet that I'd really want to go back and change. I'm sure there are a few small things, but I really can't think of those right now off the top of my head.
Anyway reviews would please me very much. They are very motivational to me so if I get reviews saying they liked my first chapter I may be extremely excited to start the second one. :)
-Dini