Chapter 1 - When She Didn't Think
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorn of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay
Hamlet (Act III, Scene I.), William Shakespeare
It was over. The war. The bane of her witch hood, the first part of it. Lord Voldemort had met his demise. It was hard to grasp as the Dark Lord had haunted them for all their years in school. And now he was gone. She didn't know why it bothered her, except that Harry had told her his life. Why he had been, who he had been. It all made sense now and he was dead. He had seemed so very constant, even though he had been the lest liked of all the professors in Hogwarts. He had been in his own league. Alone. Intelligent. Dedicated. Much like she was. She snorted with amusement. How did she not see that before. No, sorry. Of course she hadn't, because she hadn't known him. She didn't even now, but she knew some of his motives.
There were several reasons for her loneliness.
One.
The kiss she had shared with Ron Weasley, her best friend in addition to the famous Chosen One, in the heat of battle seemed to have left him with an expectation that there would be more.
No, she thought. It had been a mistake, only brought on by the rush of adrenaline after the destruction of Helga Hufflepuff's cup in the Chamber of Secrets. He had been devastated when she had broken this news with him and refused to speak with her anymore, turning the Weasleys against her.
Fine.
If he wanted to be that way, if they wanted to be that way, who was she to care.
Two.
A few hours after the end of the battle news had come Australia. Her parents had been killed. Somehow the last remaining, most vindictive Death Eaters had found out where her parents were. They had been killed in a very short time, not being tortured anymore than for entertainment, after the Death Eaters had clearly found that the only satisfaction they would get was to make her miserable, since she had modified their memories, they hadn't known who she was.
Making Hermione Granger miserable? Check.
Three.
Harry was occupied with Ginny Weasley. And when she meant occupies. Well... Let's just say, they wouldn't be waiting for their nuptials.
Furthermore, he didn't want to take sides in the argument between Ron and her and was afraid to anger the Weasleys. True friend he was, afraid to be seen to speak with her while she was being seen.
She had been forgotten. Not a new situation to her, by any chance. They had done that before. But being alone in the midst of a war with others being occupied by each other. it made her feel quite desolate.
She left the Great Hall feeling numb and fiddling with her necklace, careful not to disturb the charms around it. It was a Time Turner. True she had given up the one she had used in third year to keep up with her lessons, but for some very odd reason it had been something Dumbledore had given her before he had died in her sixth year. A year ago, she surmised.
"I have a feeling you will need this. Do not break the wards before it is time," he had said.
"How do I know, sir?" she had asked.
"You will know," had been his only cryptic answer.
She hadn't thought of that for such a long time. Bringing the memory filled her with a sudden and odd compulsion to return to the Shrieking Shack. Nobody would surely miss her. It was wrong that the man who had sacrificed so much for them would be forgotten.
When she came to the room where they had seen Voldemort kill the man with his snake familiar Nagini, she surprisingly found it empty. There was no body of Severus Snape, Potions Master and double spy. There was a pool of partially dried blood which clearly stated that he had indeed been here, at least. In the middle of the pool there was a parchment. Stopping herself from just picking the parchment up, she cast analytical spells to determine if it was only a parchment and safe to pick up. Nothing indicated it to be anything else than what it was, so she stooped down and gingerly picked it up. The parchment was empty and she sighed in disappointment.
As her sigh passed over the parchment words spread onto the parchment. It was a style she recognised, but couldn't quite place. The few words went:
It is time. Twenty turns.
Little did she know that those five words would change everything. For at that moment for the first time in her life, Hermione Granger, the sane voice of the Gryffindor Golden Trio, did not think. She took the time turner from under her shirt and felt that the charms that had kept it from spinning accidentally were gone and turned it twenty times. She disappeared with the world whirling around her.
She came to in, nowhere else, than the Shrieking Shack. She frowned when she noted that there was no blood stain and then she looked down to her hands that were still holding the time turner. Letting of the device horrified she realised what she had done. She had gone back in time without a thought, and she didn't even know how far back she had gone. Stupid, stupid, stupid, echoed through her head and after that looked around her. She had no way of knowing if it was day or night, but she thanked the fates that it had not been a full moon. It would have been quite a surprise to meet Remus Lupin in werewolf form.
She decided not to stay there any longer and made her way through the secret passage she had crept through coming there. After some thought she cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself just in case.
When she emerged on the other side under the Whomping Willow, she noted it was dusk and made her way to the castle doors. There she paused for a moment, before opening the doors and stepping in. There was nobody in the entrance hall and there were no people there.
She walked through the halls and came in front of the gargoyle that led up to the Headmaster's office. She paused uncertainly and then nocked the gargoyle with her wand. Nothing happened. She tried again. Nothing. Nothing at all. She tried the third time and was now convinced that something was horribly out of place. Suddenly a familiar figure appeared, a woman with black hair. Hermione recognised her as Transfigurations Professor Minerva McGonagall.
The woman headed directly towards the gargoyle with a haste and agility Hermione had seen lost during the rain of Professor Dolores Umbridge when she had been hit by four stunners square in the chest returning after months from St. Mungo's with only a small stiffness and a cane she had had to use until the final battle.
The woman said the password to the stone gargoyle and Hermione hastily followed on her heels. She came to the Headmaster's office to find a younger Albus Dumbledore look up in surprise.
"Good evening, Minerva. What brings you here?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"There has been another incident between my house and that of Slytherin. I have taken action, but I must report to you that it has taken both parties to the infirmary," the Head of Gryffindor house reported.
"Yes, thank you very much, Minerva," Dumbledore said and McGonagall left in a flurry of emerald green robes. Then he looked directly at her and she let go of the disillusionment.
"And who might you be?" he asked with the same deceptive calm. Hermione considered her options. Choosing not to answer his question and playing for time she made herself seem tired which was not a long stretch in acting since she was exhausted. All the fighting had got to her.
"I'm sorry, sir, but may I ask of you what day it is. I have been travelling and lost track of time all together," she exclaimed with exasperation.
"Why, it is the 3rd of September, 1978," Dumbledore answered.
"1978?" Hermione wondered out loud before she could stop herself. Dumbledore studied her intently and after a long moment of silence said:
"Can I help you with something?"
Hermione thought quickly.
"I would like to do my last year of schooling here at Hogwarts. I assume you get a letter from my mother, Madame Chastain?"
The Headmaster looked at her slightly surprised. He blinked once before answering.
"No, I'm afraid not. Was I supposed to?" His voice was calm. Hermione sighed heavily as if the world was weighed on her shoulders.
"Yes, I'm afraid you were. That you did not get her letter is very troubling."
"How so, Miss...?" Dumbledore asked. Hermione knew that his curiosity had been piqued.
"Chastain. Herminia Jeanne Chastain," she answered. Her maternal grandparents would always call her that, turning Hermione and Jean into their French counterparts, except Chastain was their last name. "It means that my father intercepted my mother's letter and that means automatically my mother's death."
"I'm sorry to hear it. My condolences for your loss. Could you tell me why you are led to think this way?"
"My mother sent me to England to protect me from an arranged marriage to a rich Muggle sheikh. I am not proud in calling Gifre Chastain my father," she explained seeping her voice with bitterness she felt against her parents for disowning her. "Father would kill anyone for fortune's sake."
"How long have you been on the run?" Dumbledore asked continuing his line of questioning.
"Since May."
"And your schooling? Did you attend Beauxbatons?"
"No, I did not, but I was taught by their curriculum by private tutors. I followed Hogwarts curriculum in Potions, Transfigurations, Charms, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy," she told him thanking the deities yet again that day. She had familiarised herself with the Academy's teaching methods during her fourth year when the Academy and Durmstrang were visiting for the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
"I'm glad to hear it. Have you passed any formal qualifications?" Dumbledore inquired.
"My father would never allow it. He sees no need for a formal training of witches past basic household care. My tutors told me that I would have received Outstanding for all, but Defence Against the Dark Arts, if I would have done my O.W.L.'s."
"And your grade in that particular subject?"
"Exceeds Expectations."
"Not bad, not bad at all, Miss Chastain. Let's get you sorted, shall we?"
Hermione nodded and Dumbledore got up to get the Sorting Hat setting it onto her head.
Lies, Miss Granger. Quite convincing. You have certainly changed since your memories of your last sorting. You do have the heart of a lion, but this time around you'll do better in another group.
She was sorted into Slytherin.
