Chapter One: we just got the start wrong
Ouch!
A spark of pain travels from her nail and into her finger.
Breath streaming out in a huff, Hermione continues to fiddle with the metallic square, trying to shift the jeweled pieces into equilibrium on each side. This contraption was beginning to shove through the seams of her patience and into mounting fury, and yet, there was no way she was giving up.
At the back of her mind, a voice was telling her she'd be late for the Prefect's Meeting, but she was drawn to this puzzle and wanted to complete it as soon as possible.
She'd searched through countless books in the library but there was no mention of what she was holding in her hands. And strangely enough, magic didn't seem to have any effect on it, no spell could penetrate through whatever secrets it held.
It was immune.
And infuriating.
So, there she was, kneeling on the stone floor of the abandoned girl's lavatory, her stockings no doubt leaving a red imprint into her skin. Her knees and thighs had already become numb from the chill that permeated the room.
"Almost…almost…yes!"
A relieved smile lights up her expression in response to the clicking sound the box made. Through being impatient, she hurriedly searches it over, before focusing on the multi-coloured side – clearly, this one was the seal for entry. Fingers skimming over the design of flowers, she presses into the centre of the flowers, until she pauses over a small ruby surrounded by gold lined petals.
Another 'clicking' sound, and a latch appears.
So, it is magical after all…
Visibly excited, Hermione opens it, peering into the compartment. Inside lay a flower, a ring attached to a chain, a bookmark and what looked to be a carved figure.
As the girl grasps an object to make a full observation, something in her navel pulls and her vision blurs.
Seconds later, the sound of the box hitting the floor echoes across the room, sealed once more.
…
The sound of distant shouting awakens Hermione from the void of unconsciousness. Squeezing her eyes at the twinges of pain in her head and back, she snaps them open at the realisation that she's no longer indoors.
It's transported me somewhere.
A cold breeze wraps itself around her as she gazes up at the red and orange highlights in the setting sky.
Sitting up carefully, Hermione wills herself to remain calm as she checks her surroundings. She appeared to be in a small clearing, next to a dirt road. She could see trees beyond the road but nothing looked familiar.
Where was she? Where was the box? Scanning the ground next to her brings her nothing.
It must have remained behind!
Her mounting panic only increases as the distant shouting becomes not so distant - whatever language they were speaking sounded unfamiliar.
Dirt is kicked up as a group of men appear from the trees, two of them laughing raucously as they nudge each other with bottles that they occasionally swung back to drink from, a third man brings up the rear, one hand pulling the reins of a horse and seemingly reprimanding his companions.
Their clothes looked strange, each of them wore rough material and an assortment of leathered armour, Hermione was quick to notice the daggers that hung from their hips.
The sight of them seriously confused her.
And as they took notice of her kneeling in the dirt, staring at them with wide eyes, it was apparent that the sight of her seriously confused them as well.
Drawing closer, one of them barks something to her only for her to shake her head back.
Their forms draw closer and Hermione stiffens as they take her in, eyes fixed on her revealed legs, arms and neckline. The man with the horse hands over the reins to one of the others and looms over her, drawing his dagger and saying something with a smirk on his heavily scarred face.
Clearly, he was the leader of this group.
"I-I can't understand you." She mumbles, too frightened to speak clearly.
The man doesn't seem to understand her either, but also doesn't care much as he's too busy staring at her exposed skin.
Inwardly screaming, Hermione holds her breath and tries to covertly reach for her wand in response to the lust gathering in his expression.
The man's eyes quickly zero in on her moving hand, giving her enough time to let out a shrill scream and whip out her wand as he lunges at her…then suddenly fall flat on his face, much to Hermione and his buddy's confusion. The pair pull out their own daggers, scanning the area with rage.
A small dark-haired boy steps out from the treeline, casually throwing and catching a rock in one hand.
His other hand lay on his hip with a confidence that was magnificent considering his stature. He calls out to the pair with anger, motioning to the horse, to which the duo yell back with even more anger, one of them spitting on the ground.
They're thieves, Hermione realises, rising to her feet.
The thieves had seemingly forgotten about her and rush towards the boy, who tosses his rock at one of their heads like he had done to their leader.
It misses.
But the stunning spell the witch sends doesn't.
The boy looks over at her with amazement, as if just noticing her presence, he gapes at the wand with recognition.
In his distraction, he doesn't notice the remaining thief barrel into him, knocking him to the ground.
Swiftly, Hermione raises her wand again to stop the thief from delivering a killing blow with his weapon, only to be beaten to the punch.
The thief snivels in fright at the tip of a gleaming sword being pointed under his chin. The sword made the daggers look like toothpicks, with its silver sheen and embedded rubies. The owner of the sword was dressed regally to match, wearing silver chainmail over his crimson clothing; a furious haze was in his grey eyes, fixed on the thief's face.
A single word, and the robber makes a retreat, running for his life.
Sheathing his sword with a sigh, the man turns to the boy with worry, reaching for him. But the boy swats his hands away and instead points over his shoulder in answer, points straight at where she stands, doe eyed and out of place.
The man looks over as well, with some surprise, his eyebrows shoot up as the boy speaks quickly and excitedly to him. Now heading towards her, the man smiles at her with a bow of his head, speaking with what sounds like gratitude.
"I'm sorry, I can't understand what you're saying!" Hermione announces with frustration.
His eyebrows come together in a frown and he looks back over to the boy, who shrugs. Speaking once again only brings him a shake of her head so he cocks his head to the side, thinking. Bringing out a wand, he thinks some more, waving it at her before she can even register that he's a wizard.
"Can you understand me now, my lady?"
Hermione nods with some trepidation. A moment of silence and she understands that he's waiting for her to speak.
"Ah, yes."
"My brother tells me that you saved him from that bandit. I thank you. He also says-"
"Hey!" The boy storms up to them, interrupting shamelessly. "I did not say that she saved me. If anything, she merely assisted me. I saved her first!" He stomps his feet with a pout on his small face.
He then stares at her legs with disapproval.
The man flicks the boy on the forehead "You mustn't stare Elric, you are insulting the lady's honour."
The boy – Elric – scowls. "She is wearing such odd revealing clothing, is she not asking to be stared at?"
Hermione flushes, irked by both comments. But keeps quiet, her mind racing.
"What was that spell, the one you cast just now?"
The man looks at her, running a hand through his windswept hair.
"I have not given it a name, I suppose it is a spell that draws understanding between foreign tongue for the caster."
"You suppose?
"Yes, this is the first time I've cast it."
"Brother is very powerful." Elric chimes in "Not only is he a great swordsman, but he is a great duelist as well."
"Y-you just made up that spell!?" Hermione interjects, shell-shocked.
"Yes? Of course, I willed it so. I wanted you to understand me and now you do." The man said with a shrug.
Hermione was so confused. Who was this man? Why couldn't she understand them earlier? Where was she? And what on earth had just happened? That silver sword had looked very familiar, in fact, she's sure she's seen it displayed within Professor Dumbledore's office. In the back of her mind, she felt as if she already knew why but stamped on the feeling harshly. Somehow, it felt as if she were dreaming.
"What did you say your name was again?" The words were spoken in wary reluctance.
"Ah, I did not. Forgive me, my manners have left me." The black-haired man took her hand and bestowed a kiss on her knuckles. "I am Godric Gryffindor. This is my younger brother Elric. What might your name be, my lady?"
Alongside the deafening roar of denial that blocks out the world, there is resignation.
Her vision blurs for the second time that day.
A/N
In just about every fanfic I've read about Hermione time traveling, she always ends up fainting. I don't want to break the tradition.
Hope you enjoyed this, though I feel somewhat rusty with my writing :)