It is not wildly known, but in some cases involving the overuse of Time Turners can lead to a rare condition, known as Aevumtripudio. This condition sees the Witch or Wizard entering a trance and receiving 'flashes' or 'visions' from another period of time. This condition is often mistaken with having 'sight' and will go undiagnosed. Sufferers will often find themselves 'visiting' a particular individual on these occasions. Diagnosed witches and wizards have reported that these visitations are eerily similar to that of entering a pensive, characterised by the inability to interact with the objects and people around you, and to be forcefully shifted between 'scenes'. In even rarer cases of this already rare condition, the 'visited' individual will also get these flashes of the suffering Witch or Wizard. There are currently only three sufferers of Aevumtripudio worldwide, but there has only been one person in history who has received these 'dual visitations'.
In her third year of Hogwarts, Hermione Jean Granger was supplied with a Time-Turner to complete all her education demands. On average, she would use it two or three times a day, despite the Ministry's recommendations of only once a week. This over-use lead to her heightened levels of Aevemtirum which lead to an increased incidence of these 'flashes' that sent her eight hundred years forward in North America.
To begin with, Hermione's flashes were short, lasting only seconds with no real substance or information. She would see a forest; smell a strong scent or even a figure in the distance. These flashes did not cause her to enter an altered state of consciousness, but would come to her during normal waking consciousness.
It wasn't until her first Divination lesson that she had her first real visitation. On that particular afternoon, Professor Trelawney had been burning pine incense, and Hermione has admitted that that particular class was far less stimulating than a normal class. This scent coupled with the omission of Alpha brain waves may have acted as a trigger to force some sort of connection between two very different people in two very different worlds.
A boy of around fifteen sat on a hillside, stripping some grass. His dark hair blowing in the breeze. His brow furrowed in concentration, as if he were considering something. His callused, hands were not of some who had an easy life. Despite his young age, the boy's intense eyes hinted that he had seen in his short life than anyone would ever want to see.
Without warning, the scene swirled and changed, and he was standing in a crowd of other boys his age with an anxious expression on his face. He seemed to be staring intently at a woman standing on a stage. She had the unmistakeable aura of someone who didn't belong. This was confirmed by her bright blue hair, out of place among the dark and blonde. The woman was parading around the stage, gesturing wildly. She dipped her hand into a glass bowl sitting on one side of the stage and pulled something out. From that distance, Hermione wasn't able to see what it was, but she knew it must have been important. The pink woman
There was the boy sitting on a grassy slope. He looked to be around fifteen, and had deep brown hair and steely gray eyes. Despite his young age, the boy's intense eyes hinted that he had seen in his short life than anyone would ever want to see. Simple leather boots adorned his feet, and he wore what Hermione would come to recognise as a hunter's knife on his belt. He looked up, watching the flight path of a soaring black and white bird as it dived. His callused hands absently picked and stripped at the blades of green grass. A troubled look flashed over his face as the bird swooped at a frog, but before Hermione could make any sense of it, the scene shifted.
The boy was now surrounded by a mass of other dark-haired boys. They were lined up in rows inside what looked to be a cattle pen. A blonde boy standing directly behind her boy- that was how she had come to think of him- with tears streaking down his blotchy face. Nearby, a younger boy was sobbing in the arms of his double. Every single boy there looked grim… except hers. He was staring intently at a stage that had been erected beneath two giant screens. It was then that she noticed that they were not standing in a cattle pen, but in a town square. It was then that Hermione noticed the identical mass of girls lined up on the other side of the square. The only difference was that these girls were openly weeping, unlike the silent tears of the surrounding boys. There was a commotion on the stage, and the screens flashed on.
A muffled tune filled her ears. It was as if she was wearing her ear plugs from Herbology: she could hear sounds, but wasn't able to distinguish what was happening. This garbled sound played while a starburst and eagle appeared. This was replaced with horrifying images of murder and destruction. One particular image showed a girl not much older than herself slitting the throat of an older boy. Hermione found herself gagging and had to avert her eyes. This gave her a chance to study the people seated on the stage:
A well dressed older man sat at the end, dabbing his brow every now and then. He was alternating between watching the screen, and glancing worriedly at someone in the girl's pen. Next to him sat a drooping man. His dark hair sat at messy angles, and he was clutching a brown bottle as if his life depended on it. He was glaring angrily at his knee, where a pale hand was perched in excitement. This belonged to a radiant woman in silver and green. She wore an emerald wig and looked as if her make up had been done by an over zealous monkey. A silver flower adorned her right cheek, and her silver eyes were glued to the screen above, enthralled. She seemed to be drinking in the death and destruction being broadcast, even reciting some of the lines. Soon- but not soon enough- the film finished, and the green woman stood and pranced across the stage to an awaiting microphone. Standing there, she gestured wildly, speaking rapidly before dunking her hand into a nearby bowel. She retrieved a folded piece of paper and read out what was on it.
Almost immediately, a circle of girls stepped back, creating a ring around a young, blonde girl of maybe sixteen. She was shocked, and didn't- or couldn't- move from the spot. Two armed men in white came forward and grabbed the girl by the arms and started dragging her towards the stage. Now she was moving. She was kicking and screaming, throwing her weight around. Shocked by this violent behaviour, Hermione called out, and attempted to wade through the bodies over to help the girl, but she found her hands passing straight through their bodies. Her shout died out before it left her lips. It was then that she realised that she was but a guest in this world. She had no weight, no substance. Literally. She watched in horror as one of the armed men through the girl to the ground on the stage. Hermione glanced over to see how her boy was reacting.
His face was devoid of emotion, but not his eyes. His eyes were filled with pure hatred so intense, that Hermione stepped back, not wanting to be on the receiving end of his rage. To her astonishment, he didn't lunge out at the nearest guard, but spat on the ground. Now the green and silver woman approached the second bowl and, with a flourish of her hand, retrieved another slip of paper.
This time, it was an older boy who walked, stony faced, up to the stage. Hermione's boy's mouth was open in astonishment, but closed it so quickly that she was afraid that she had imagined it. His eyes softened to what appeared to be pity, and he cursed under his breath. He looked towards one of the many adults standing around the outside of the pens. A woman was on her knees, weeping. Her face buried in her hands, her body wracked with sobs. A frown formed on her brow. What was happening here?
Her boy turned to directly face Hermione. A shocked look appeared on his face for a fraction of a second. She glanced nervously around her, hoping that he was looking at someone else. He studied her face intently. Her hand flew up to her mouth in shock. Could he see her?
'Who-?' he began, but was cut off by a young boy running over to him. This boy had the same steely eyes and dark hair as her own boy, so she guessed it must be his brother.
'Gale! You didn't get reaped!' he cried, flinging himself into his brother's arms.
Her boy, Gale, it would seem, glanced at his brother, then up to Hermione again. He looked troubled, confused even.
'Where did the girl go?' he demanded.
'Girl?' his brother asked sweetly.
'Yes, the girl! Geez, Rory. Right there! She had bushy hair and was wearing… you know what? Never mind.'
Everything went black, and Hermione found herself sprawled on the table in her class being intently watched by what appeared to be a giant insect.
While that was her first visitation, it certainly wasn't his last.
Sorry for the Slap-Dash ending, but I really must get to bed. I may or may not fix it up later.