So this is my second fanfiction and my first in this new category so please be kind. I haven't read the books in a long time, nor have I seen the films since they each came out so my Potter knowledge is a little rusty and there was much consorting with the HP wiki for the details mentioned. If anything's a little off then my apologies. This is a set up chapter so no Marauding yet but please enjoy the read.
Hermione groaned as she came to, it took a few moments for the pain to kick in, the throbbing in her head, the ache in her arm. She pushed herself up into a sitting position as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. She was in a cell, a quick glance around told her she was alone, it also gave her a raging headache. Rubbing her temples she cautiously moved towards the door to her cell pressing her ear against it. She couldn't hear anything, leaning against it for a moment she looked down at her arm where the result of Bellatrix's knife work blazed prominently. The blood had dried in the time she'd been out and though it coated her arm she could easily make out the word MUDBLOOD.
That probably accounted for why she felt weak and shaky, tugging her sleeve down over it she moved away from the door. Patting herself down, bag and wand gone, no valuables at all, they'd even taken her watch. A glint in the corner of the cell caught her eye, she'd almost missed it, moving closer she saw a card and a small golden object on a golden chain. Instantly she recognised it, the little hourglass in the centre could only be one thing, a time turner. But that wasn't possible, they'd all been destroyed in the Department of Mysteries, but this one looked new and the markings were different to how she remembered. But then, she'd never gotten to study others so it could be that they were all slightly different.
She hesitated to touch it, surely non of her captors would leave such a valuable item in here with her. Perhaps they thought she wouldn't recognise it and would think she'd try and use it to save herself. Perhaps it was cursed. But then, why a time turner, she doubted any of them even knew she'd used one. Surely something like a poisoned plate of food would be a better choice. And then there was the card, she could see the writing on the back, leaning in, careful not to touch it or block the little light she had she read the words written there.
"For aiding Harry Potter and Ron Weasley and the subsequent defeat of Voldemort. Also, for eradicating prop-pureblood laws at the Ministry of Magic and campaigning for the rights of non-human beings such as house-elves."
Hermione's breath hitched, this made no sense. This couldn't have been put there by her assailants, this was beyond even their twisted minds surely. She reached out with a shaking hand to turn the card over and swallowed her startled cry of surprise.
"Hermione Granger"
The picture slot was empty but as she watched she saw herself step into the picture, a slightly older self.
"Hello Hermione."
Her eyes went wide, moving pictures were no longer a novelty but chocolate frog cards didn't speak.
"Listen, ironic as it sounds, I don't have a lot of time. You were never meant to be here but the potential for this future still lives. They've killed Ron and Harry has disappeared, two turns will take you to where you need to be to change the awful fate that awaits you. Good luck."
With that her pictured self walked out of the frame before Hermione could even ask any questions but it couldn't be true. Ron? Dead? And how would a card know? No this had to be a trick, something to undermine her. A clamour above made her move towards the door, pressing her ear against it trying desperately to hear. Screams; screams of rage. Bellatrix screeching and Lucius Malfoy's drawl, something about her over confidence, should never have put them in a cell together.
"Bring me the mudblood!"
Hermione felt her breath quicken, heard footsteps coming closer, the tap of shoes on stone. She scrambled back from the door, the weight of the time turner hung heavy around her neck, her only way out, but Ron, Harry? They'd need her to get the Horcruxes. The sound of locks sliding back, she frantically pulled the necklace out holding it in shaking hands. They needed her here, surely there was a way, what if this was still a trap, what if it didn't work? Peter Pettigrew in the doorway, leering at her, stepping forward, his hands reaching for her. Deft, practiced flicks of her fingers and the hourglass spun twice. He was nearly upon her now, any second and he'd have hold of her, it had been a trap, a trick. Then the pull behind her navel; like a portkey but not. The colours blurred; his face vanished.
She let out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. She slumped back against the wall. She was still in her cell, the door was still open but Pettigrew was gone, this could be her only chance. She couldn't hear Bellatrix's screeching as she inched along the corridor, the other cells were open and empty, no sign of Harry, Ron, Luna or Griphook. Then a roar from upstairs followed by a great stamping of feet that made dust fall from the ceiling, she pressed herself against the wall, looking up the staircase and seeing no one. Inching upwards she found herself in another corridor, deserted but no cover, she zigzagged along it, quiet as she could, all the while listening for footsteps. The cheering grew louder, light under an ornate doorway and voices, many, many voices. How could so many have got here so fast? And what could they be celebrating? A dry sob hitched in her throat as terrifying thoughts gripped her mind and yet she strained to listen.
"Congratulations are in order for you nuptials I hear Lucius."
She froze, her blood ran cold and a bead of sweat ran down the back of her neck, her hair stood on end at that voice. That cold voice that dripped charm like poison. Lord Voldemort. He was here. The danger was suddenly much great and she was reminded that she was wandless in an ancient pureblood home surrounded by Death Eaters and him. Then the words sunk in. Nuptials? Lucius? But she'd just seen Lucius with his wife, and their son, how...
"And as is customary a gift."
Inching closer Hermione could see the door she'd been dragged through by the snatchers, the way out, she could apparate outside the grounds, get away, but something kept her feet glued to the floor.
"Take this diary Lucius and guard it well, it's worth more to me than your life."
There was hesitant laughter, as if those around were unsure whether the Dark Lord had made a joke. Diary? Lucius Malfoy and a diary, slipped into Ginny's cauldron all those years...ago. The diary of Tom Marvolo Riddle that Harry had destroyed with a basilisk fang. A Horcrux, and she was so close to it. But she couldn't go in there to get it, she'd be overpowered, the time turner found, tortured until everything she knew was ripped out of her, her mind plundered for secrets and all would be lost.
Swallowing her fear and following her better instincts she crept across the entranceway, the paintings were empty, most likely ogling the goings on in the main hall. Then she was out the gilded door and into the night. She fled down through the ornate gardens as fast as her feet would carry her to the Iron Gate at the end. Pushed it open, squirmed through and there was surrounded by rolling countryside. With nowhere to go.
The enemy, fear and death lay behind her and now she was so close to freedom and couldn't think where to go. To Hogwarts? To warn Dumbledore? No, perhaps not. His eyes were everywhere, even at Hogwarts, the children of those men and woman back in that hallway celebrating the marriage of Lucius and Narcissa. But if Voldemort was alive then that meant Harry wasn't, how far back was she, she hadn't even really stopped to consider. Here was not the place, she apparated away to a hostel, claimed she was travelling and had been robbed, a kindly woman bustled her into a free room which contained little more than a mattress and brought her some soup, asked if she wanted to call the police.
Hermione shook her head, "No thank you, I'll call my parents in the morning they can pick me up."
The woman nodded, offered to let her use the phone and went off to check on other occupants.
Hermione pulled her knees to her chest and considered her options. She was in the past, obviously, so the time turner had worked. Voldemort alive so she was in the time of the first rising. Perhaps she should contact the Order, an anonymous owl? But no, they'd find that suspicious and what could they do. Dumbledore hadn't entrusted the knowledge of the Horcruxes to them even in her time, it had been their task, Harry, Ron and hers. But they were no longer with her, if the card was to be believed they were far beyond her reach. Perhaps she could flick forwards, save them. She pulled out the time turner but on closer inspection she saw there was no sand in the hourglass. One use only then. Stuck here with no money, her wand confiscated in the future. The future! She hadn't even been conceived, Diagon Alley should still be intact, Ollivander's! Her wand would still be there now, in a box, waiting for her to come along at the tender age of eleven to collect it. She could go now. But with no money to pay for it Mr Ollivander would hardly let her walk out the shop with it, hers or no. No Gringotts vault and no family.
Gringotts! Of course! Bellatrix's reaction to the sword, perhaps there was another. Hermione paused, six Horcruxes, all of them would have been made by now, none of them destroyed. She listed them on her fingers. Salazar's Locket originally retrieved from its hiding spot by R.A.B. Regulus Black and found in Grimmauld Place, taken by Mundungus Fletcher and finally snatched from Dolores Umbridge to be destroyed by Ron with the sword of Gryffindor. Whether it had been retrieved yet by Regulus she didn't know.
The ring, the ring that had ultimately cost Albus Dumbledore his life and one of the Deathly Hallows, the other two being the Elder Wand held by Dumbeldore himself and the Cloak of Invisibility which would be with...James Potter. Harry's parents, they could still be alive right now, they had to be. Hermione swallowed hard, was that the fate she was meant to change? Could she keep them alive? Neville's parents were still alive. Then she remembered the blood protection, the thing that kept Harry safe. Hermione shook her head, paradox conundrums later. The ring was at the shack, abandoned now, she could go there now, apparate there and back. But how would she destroy it, the sword was at Hogwarts as was the basilisk, the very much alive basilisk.
Nagini, that massive great snake would be at Voldemort's side, no easy way of getting to her. But he did use her in battle, he did send her away to do his bidding, perhaps there would be an opportune moment to strike, but against she'd need the sword, and the sword would need basilisk venom. A snake to kill a snake, the irony was not lost on Hermione.
There was something in Bellatrix's vault, or would be, perhaps Voldemort had entrusted one to her as her 'wedding present' like Lucius? Hermione looked down at her blood and dirt clad clothing and plucked a long twisted black hair from her top. She held it up to the light.
"Perhaps there will be a use for you," she murmured but where to put it, it could easily be lost. And while she had that problem to solve there was the fact that there was one more unaccounted for and no idea where it might be. Hermione cursed.
Still there was the ring.
Determined she set the hair down on the pillow and apparated with a crack into the woods outside Little Hangleton. It was almost pitch black amongst the closely set trees and Hermione had to squeeze between one or two. The site of the shack shocked her, having never seen it before. She was hard pressed to assossiate it with the Dark Lord, filthy as it was, rotten, sloping on one side with the door hanging off its hinges; while he was in Malfoy Manor surrounded by extravagance and beauty, practically having his dragon skin boots kissed by hypocritical purebloods. She pinched her nose as she edged inside, the whole place stank, but where would the ring be? The place was sparse, what little furniture there was riddled with damp, a floorboard creaked and sank beneath her foot.
She paused, stepping on it again, feeling it sink further. Stepping back she crouched down and tried to touch as little as she could, prizing the floorboard loose. There, in the sliver of silver moonlight that poured in through a gap in the roof, was a glittering golden box covered in intricate carvings of snakes that seemed to writhe under her fingers as she lifted it out. She felt it thrum in her hands, probably cursed but there was no other reaction. Carefully replacing the board and brushing dust back over it, trying to make it look as little disturbed as possible she tucked the little box under her arm and left the shack. Apparating back to her room in the hostel she found it undisturbed and the hair still on her pillow.
Now what?
Placing the hair beside the box out of immediate site Hermione lay down with the intention of thinking through her next moves but before long fell asleep.
Loud knocking brought her out of her sleep. For a moment she didn't know where she was and panicked.
"Are you awake dear? Only it's nearly noon and I wondered if you'd still like to call your parents."
Hermione threw the pillow over the box as the lady came in.
"Oh, um, no it's alright," she replied smiling reassuringly, "I think I can actually walk from here, I was a bit disorientated last night, didn't realise where I was."
"Well alright dear, if you say so, I'll bring you some breakfast," the woman made to leave.
"That would be very kind."
The woman smiled kindly at Hermione and left. Hurriedly Hermione snatched the box and hair and apparated away, she didn't want the woman noticing her acquisition and getting suspicious. Not that her disappearance wasn't but it was relatively harmless.
Next up, her wand, but she'd need money and all she had was a box containing a ring with a sliver of Voldemort's soul. Looking up she saw nestled amongst other shops was a pawnbroker. Hermione grinned, perfect. So in she went with the box and out she came with a pocket full of cash. Muggle cash but money all the same, next to Diagon Alley. Dipping out of site she apparated right into the middle of it and nearly burst into tears at the site.
The alley was bustling, full of brightly dressed witches and wizards and a notable number of young ones, their arms full of books and bags. Parents holding children by the hand, hustling from one shop to the other. The beginning of term? The sites, the smells, so familiar, echoes of happier times; Hermione was almost overwhelmed. She walked up the steps of Gringotts bank and headed for the exchange counter, ignoring the looks she was getting for her grubby clothes. She'd tried to wipe away as much as she could, she didn't want anyone asking about the blood. It didn't help she probably looked like she hadn't showered in a week.
"Your money miss."
Brought out of her reverie Hermione thanked the Goblin and took the small velvet purse and headed out and up the street, straight to Ollivanders. She walked in and the bell rang, just in time to see a little girl gasp in delight as brightly coloured sparks poured from her wand. Gushing with excitement her mother thanked Mr. Ollivander and left. Pocketing the galleons he turned to her.
"Can I help you miss?" he smiled.
"Yes," she swallowed hard, "yes I'd like to buy a wand...please."
He looked at curiously and clicked his tongue, "Interesting, put your wand arm out miss."
She did so and his magical tape measure wound around her wrist, then stretched up her arm. He seemed to take little notice, still inspecting her, "Curiouser and curiouser."
"Said Alice." It slipped out before her mind registered what she'd said.
"Indeed," the corner of his mouth twitched and he moved amongst the reams of boxes and began pulling them down.
"Sir if you please, vine, 10 ¾, dragon heartstring."
He did look at her funny then, pausing and pulling down one more box, "And how is it that you've come in here with such a vivid description of what you desire miss?"
"Hermione Grant."
"You did not answer my question," he said as he handed her a wand.
She held back her disappointment, it was not her wand, she flicked it obediently and wasn't surprised when the window pains rattled.
"I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, sir, because I am not myself you see."
"Said Alice to the caterpillar," he handed her another wand. This time several books fell from a book shelf. His frown deepened. They continued in silence, working their way through all but one of the boxes he'd brought down. He picked up the last box revenrently, Hermione's fingers itched to reach for it.
The tension broke as the doorbell rang, a father and son pair this time, he coughed politely when neither of them moved.
"My apologies sir," Ollivander inclined his head to the man, then turned back to Hermione and opened the box, "Vine, dragon heartstring, ten and three quater inch, good for-"
But before he could even finish it was in Hermione's hand and a with a flourish all the lights burned brighter as golden sparks danced around the room. "-me," she finished and smiled to him.
"Welcome to wonderland Miss Grant."
She gave a little laugh, paid and left him to see to his next customer. The first thing she did was to scourgify herself and her clothing. Now feeling somewhat less conspicuous and all the more empowered with her wand tucked into her sleeve she headed off back down the alley with her coins burning a hole in her pocket. Stopping for an ice cream she picked up a copy of the daily prophet and set herself down to indulge in a summer afternoon and plan out her next move. She'd have to retrieve the ring box, but she had her wand now and though it didn't quite sit right with her morals to use magic to steal from a muggle she'd done a lot of things recently that she didn't like. One more wouldn't hurt.
The year was 1977 and the paper's obituary was almost as big as the rest of it. Hermione, who had been enjoying her ice cream, sobered realising that here wasn't safe either. Voldemort was still in power, even though his take over wasn't quite as successful this time, he was still here, still sending the wizarding world spiralling into a cesspit of fear. She ran a hand through her hair. With the locket status unknown and no way to destroy any of the Horcruxes on her own there was only one place she could go. She counted her sickles carefully, should be just enough to put her up till term started if she lived very frugally. Maybe she could plead with Tom the bartender of The Leaky Cauldron for a couple of hours of work.
She waited for the evening, apparating under the cover of darkness back to the pawnshop. Careful not to alert any of the muggle alarms she summoned the little golden box. Deciding not to try to open it for now, it could be warded, Harry hadn't really told her much beyond the location and that result on Dumbledore's hand, but that could have been from wearing it. She didn't know and didn't want to chance finding out. For now she was unknown to the Dark Lord and she'd like to keep it that way for a little longer at least.
She walked into the Leaky Cauldron which was wonderfully busy. Wizards and witches huddled together over pints and glasses. Talk and laughter and somewhere in the distance a wizarding radio was playing. She walked up to the counter to see a substantially younger Tom than she was used to cleaning out a glass. Magic could do it for him of course but he always had preferred having a hands-on approach, said it made him feel more connected with the punters.
"I'd like a room please," she said smiling sweetly.
He raised an eyebrow, "Would you now?"
"Will that be a problem?"
She saw his eyes dart down at her covered arms, then back to her face. It was the barest of glances but it still sent shivers up her spine. She'd have to get used to that, the suspicion, it's not like she was a well known face anymore.
"I don't suppose so, it'll be ten galleons a night, how long you be staying for?" he put down his glass and picked up another.
"Till the start of term," she replied, pulling herself up onto a stool.
"Oh, student are ye?" she nodded, then he raised an eyebrow, "how old are ye?"
"Eighteen."
"Oh aye, travelling light are we?"
"Uh well, that's where it gets complicated," he raises his other eyebrow and looked sceptical, "I had a, a falling out with my parents you see so I don't really want them to know where I am but I don't really have that much money on me so I, um," she trailed off hoping to get some sympathy.
"Don't suppose that's a wise idea, running off with all sorts about."
She groaned, "What I'm asking is if you've got any work going, hell, I'll even clean toilets, you know, for a bit of extra cash? Just to tide me over till things subside, then I'll owl them."
He looked up and down the bar for a minute then looked back at her with a sceptical expression on his face. "Ever waited tables kid?"
She shrugged.
"Well we're short staffed tonight, you prove yourself and I'll see what I can do."
Hermione grinned, then before he could blink leaned over the bar and kissed his cheek, "Thank you, I promise you won't regret this."
The brunette then grabbed a tray and did just that.
Hermione is easily one of my favourite HP characters and yes, she's the brightest witch of her age and very intuitive and been through a lot but I'm going to try not to make her omniscient. She's a scared teen well out of her depth with a lot of things beyond her influence, especially when thrown back in time and I don't think anyone would take her at face value right off the bat. So please bare with me, next chapter we head to Hogwarts, still not decided on if there's going to be pairings or not.