A jolting pain went up Hermione's skull and she gasped, flicking her eyes open. A strand of frizzy brown hair blocked her view as she sat up and slowly removed it from her face, tucking the strand behind her ear.

She was all alone.

Hermione held back bitter tears of anxiety and confusion as she observed the room around her, suddenly not caring if anyone found her. It was a dimly lit classroom, filled with a few scattered papers and dust lingering in the air. The seats were un-touched, thick coatings of dust on the surface. It was cold, empty, and dark. Like her world had been.

She stood up slowly, wincing at the pain still surging through her head. Her legs ached as if she had run a mile and her robes were wrinkled. She dusted them off without much effort and smoothed back her dark frizzy hair, her eyes not taking in anything she was seeing.

Hermione was back in the past, shoved into the time-warp without a second thought. She remembered it clearly; Dumbledore's eyes were depending on her, pleading her to leave without him. He was trapped- boxed in by five Death Eaters who were taking their time in killing him. He had refused to yell in pain as they sent cruel curses at him, each one snickering as he winced unwillingly. Dumbledore was so pale, so helpless, while Hermione was screaming, blindly kicking the Death Eater holding her. He almost snapped her neck to make her watch what was happening to him as she struggled. The tears muffled her cries and all she could do was watch as each Death Eater sent another torture spell at Dumbledore, then- just for added fun- they all sent one at once. It was too hard for him to bear and he finally sank down to his knees, every breath he took hurting.

At this she elbowed the strong man holding her from behind who was too busy enjoying the scene, and raced towards her old headmaster. He had always been there, always been strong, and now he was helpless- tiring from the endless battles with Voldemort. Hermione had to save him before it was too late.

Suddenly he had stood up with great difficulty, his ribs seemed ready break with each breath.

"Stop..." he whispered, clutching his stomach tightly. One Death Eater held his hand up, signaling for all of them to stop. Their wands were raised in mid-air as each menacing hooded figure seemed to smirk.

Hermione knew Dumbledore was telling her to stop but she wouldn't obey; all she saw was him and how she had to save him. There was no plan, no brilliant spell to help her now. She would lunge into battle and fight till she died, but right now she wasn't thinking about that.

"Stop."

His ragged breathing suddenly turned to a painfully firm voice as he looked at her with blue eyes, the twinkle diminished. He was pleading her to turn around, to leave him. She wouldn't, she refused to, she wouldn't give up without a fight.

"You're... You're the only- the only chance, Hermione," he whispered, groaning from the pain in his chest. "Go back. Go back!"

Suddenly the image in front of her eyes blurred and the scene seemed to pause, then rewind. The last thing she saw was Dumbledore crying out loud in pain with a final green blast and then the image repeating itself. Hermione blinked, desperately trying to see him through the blur. She reached out, but was suddenly sucked in. And then she knew- Dumbledore had sent her back in time. Where? She would find out soon.

Hermione blinked the tears away as her mind returned to the present- or rather the past. She sniffed and leaned against the closest desk, staring miserably at the dirty piece of parchment underneath her foot. Why didn't she save him sooner? Was he alright? Did he actually send her back in time?

She picked up the parchment absentmindedly and turned it around. Surprisingly, there were faded words printed on the front, with a few dirty splotches of ink and blurred letters. But that wasn't what caught Hermione's eye. It was the date- September 21, 1944.

She collapsed and slowly slid down the seat, the paperfalling out of her hands. Half-a-freaking-century ago. What did Dumbledore want her to do?

In the exhausted state she was in, she felt her body stiffly adjusting to the chair in the back of her and suddenly the room went dark. She closed her eyes and felt the conscious world drift away.

Hermione awoke to soft voices echoing around the room in hushed whispers, each person nervously speaking. Keeping her eyes closed she listened, despite the teriffied feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. She felt soft bedsheets under her body and fluffed pillows comfortably resting beneath her head. A heavy blanket covered her, warm and inviting.

She was about to jolt up and hex the next person she saw, but suddenly a voice in another room sounded. What the man said made all the hairs in the back of Hermione's neck stick up and her stomach queasy.

"Maybe we should get that boy, Tom Riddle, to escort her around the school. Yes, a fine young man-"

She nearly gasped, her face creasing with confusion. Tom Riddle! A million thoughts raced through Hermione's mind. Had Dumbledore sent her back to destroy the younger version of Voldemort? What was she going to do? Did she have to kill him? Where was she?

Finally, she opened her eyes, squinting at the bright streams of light coming from the familiar windows of the hospital. Yes, she was in the hospital, but nothing else was absorbed by her brain. Sensing no one nearby anymore, she slowly glided her legs down to the ground, the cold surface coming in contact with her sensitive toes. She rose, praying that the bed wouldn't creak and stood up cautiously, her eyes scanning the room.

There was a shuffling noise and the large doors burst open, a strict-looking woman accompanied by another, more familiar man. Panicking, Hermione froze and her head snapped in the direction of the two surprised looking adults. Instantly she knew who the man was.

The younger version of Dumbledore had a shorter beard and and magnificent twinkle in his light blue eyes. His pale skin contrasted with his deep purple robes that dragged behind him and his crooked hat gleamed pleasantly in the light.

"Good morning," he said pleasantly.