Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, he'd actually use the survival skills he learned living at the Dursleys instead of running about like a chicken with its head cut off.
The Ripple Effect
Harry was in a coma. The prognosis wasn't good.
Hermione swallowed, blinking back tears. No one understood what was wrong with him - they'd killed Voldemort, the bond that bound he and Harry together was long destroyed, so what was wrong?
No one, that said, but her.
He held the Horcrux far too long.
She ran a hand through the inky black hair of her best friend. Ron may have been her lover, but… strangely, she and Harry had always been closer.
Until Voldemort had regained his body, the fact that Harry had contained a portion of the Dark Lord's soul (however small) had been worrisome but not threatening. But by the time they had finally realized, his soul and Harry's had begun to fuse, and the removal of the Horcrux had damaged it beyond repair.
Killing Voldemort, in the end, had been committing suicide. That presence of soul - soul that had once been partially meshed with his own - was enough to keep him running. But now it was gone, and Harry would never wake up.
Hermione choked back a sob. "It's not fair," she whispered - and lost the fight, tears streaming down her face. With a silent snarl she scrubbed her face dry. "It's-not-fair."
Abruptly Harry's eyes opened.
She started, and leaned over him - had the fates decided to take pity on them? - but no, the green orbs were glassy and dull. So not Harry that it made her want to scratch them out.
This isn't fair.
Harry had always called Hermione the optimist. She'd always retorted that compared to him, anyone was an optimist, but he was right, really. Even after a war, a great bloody filthy war, her ingrained sense of fairness had yet to diminish.
This isn't fair, she repeated silently, lips thinning in determination as she closed Harry's eyes. And if the fates won't fix it, then I will. I never took much stock in Divination anyway.
And that was why Hermione had risked obliterating the time-space continuum and destroying the world.
THERIPPLEEFFECT
Hermione ached all over. The best was soft, but it did nothing for when her muscles twitched, sending pain lancing through her hypersensitive nerves.
She wasn't one to use profanity, but - hell, she bloody well hurt. The human body just wasn't built to deal with the kind of abuse that had been dropped on her as soon as she had split a rift in the space-time continuum, using magic she had carefully siphoned off of her companions over the last few months.
If they noticed the period of slight weakness after coming into contact with her, they hadn't said anything.
Hermione preferred to believe she had their blessing. After all, she was doing this to save Harry.
Harry…
She couldn't hold back the pained shriek as she forced herself upright. Casting a numbing charm with the wand clasped in trembling fingers, she conjured herself some clothing and laboriously dressed.
I have to get to Harry… I have to get the Horcrux out….
Even with the numbing charm, the Apparation had her all but screaming, feeling as though she were about to be ripped to pieces - and when she reappeared in a secluded area not far from the Little Whinging playground she dropped to her knees, moaning and trying not to let the tears of pain escape her eyes.
"Are you alright miss?"
She jumped - ow ow ow it hurt hurt hurt- and looked up at guarded, watchful brilliant green eyes and silky-soft, untidy ebony locks. Hermione swallowed, fighting back the urge to leap at Harry and carry him away, someplace where he'd be safe forever. As much as she regretted it, some things had to go the same way as before.
"Yes…" she gasped out finally. "I'll be alright. Just give me a minute…."
She expected him to walk over and try and help her up, so was slightly surprised when he just nodded and stood there watching her. Making sure I'll be okay, but not interfering… she realized.
The overlarge clothes were familiar, standing out like a miniature sun in grossly bright colors that didn't suit him at all… but he was so quiet and still, Harry nearly disappeared into the shadows of the foliage.
The pain faded after a moment or so, and Hermione struggled to her feet again. She smiled. "What's your name, kiddo?"
He blinked, obviously - to her eyes at least - taken off guard. "It's Harry, miss."
No surname. Harry had always been cleverer than he let on. "You can call me Jane, then, Harry." She beckoned with her hand. "Come here for a second."
In a second his hackles raised. Hermione almost felt hurt, until she reminded herself that Harry didn't know her, had no reason to trust her. People said he trusted easily. She knew that was not the case.
He smiled then, a pretty, little, disgustingly false mockery of a smile - not that anyone but her, Ron, or Ginny could have noticed - and approached with the casual ease of someone experienced at ignoring their instincts. Hermione frowned inwardly at that. Harry needed to trust his instincts; he'd never survive Hogwarts else.
Shoving that to the back of her mind for the moment, Hermione concentrated on smiling and concealing the magic circulating in her hand as she reached out to ruffle his hair, brushing over the scar and pulling from it the fraction of Voldemort's soul that had been implanted there.
She shredded it with a rush of magic Harry seemed to sense, as he stiffened ever-so-slightly. Souls were fragile things.
Hermione smiled at him. "I don't know you, kiddo." Good thing you taught me how to lie with a straight face. "But you seem like a strong boy… an intelligent one. So don't let anyone make decisions for you. Do things your own way. Got that?"
There was a bit of shock in his eyes as he nodded.
Hermione could feel her numbing charm wearing off. Casting a spell anywhere in the vicinity of Little Whinging would be bring the entire Ministry of Magic down on her head, and she didn't need that.
"Shoo," she added. "You go start making your destiny, kiddo. Maybe I'll see you sometime again in the future."
Harry ghosted over to a tree, virtually gliding over the prickly green grass before turning to look at her - and this time, the tiny almost invisible smile was real; it made her feel warm inside.
"I'll remember that, Miss Jane," Harry murmured. "It's been a pleasure, but my relatives will be looking for me."
Hermione nodded to him. She'd have to get out of here before the spell completely unraveled anyway. She opened her mouth to say goodbye, and then blinked. He was already gone.
And that was how she changed the world, with only the best of intentions.
THERIPPLEEFFECT
Hermione smiled proudly, as Harry stood in line with the rest of the first years in the middle of the Hogwarts Great Hall. Apparently her words had had more of an affect than she had originally intended, because when they had "run into" each other in Flourish and Blotts (she'd staged it of course) Harry had a good dozen books in addition to the course books necessary for Hogwarts.
But that could only be a good thing. With a proper education and attention on his studies, Harry could grow to be an even greater wizard than the Headmaster.
She smiled as Hannah Abbott was called up to the stool and the Sorting began.
"Where d'you think Harry Potter'll go? I heard he would be coming here this year."
Hermione blinked, looking down at the Gryffindor sixth year who'd spoken. His dirty-blonde friend snorted.
"Where d'you think he'll go? He defeated You-Know-Who. He'll be a Gryffindor. Potters always go to Gryffindor anyway."
She smirked at their back. While she didn't like the dismissive attitude they held toward Harry, they were right. Potters always went to Gryffindor, and Harry was no exception.
Speaking of Harry... she could see his head of inky black hair tossing back and forth, as if he was trying to pinpoint something. He wasn't having much success, that much was obvious, as he continued to look about surreptitiously as McGonagall whipped through the speed and ease of long practice.
"Granger, Hermione!"
Hermione grinned as she watched her younger self dash up to the stool, jamming the aged Hat down on her ears. She could remember like yesterday the words that had been whispered into her ear...
"Oh, a brilliant mind and love of learning. A thirst to prove yourself worthy, too, and such loyalty... But still you have a fierce belief in right and wrong, and the courage to follow through and defend your beliefs. So... I think you'll find your path in Gryffindor!"
Sure enough, a second later the first year Hermione Granger was declared Gryffindor.
"Gotta be Muggle-born," the dark blond Gryffindor decided, and she felt a sliver of irritation - especially when the other agreed.
"Yeah, but it's kind of strange. Most of the eager type get stuck in Ravenclaw."
Blondie shot him a look. "Are you complaining? That's more points for us."
Twitching, Hermione got to her feet, tested her silencing charm and moved away. The Headmaster would doubtless be suspicious if some of his students were suddenly hexed.
"Potter, Harry!"
She froze one foot in the air and twisted to see Harry.
His gait had not changed from the silent glide he had shown when she'd removed the Horcrux, quite different from the shy, hesitant stride she remembered - and she grinned. Yes, Harry had taken her advice to heart.
He sat down on the stool, and McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat down on his head. The Deputy Headmistress was smiling faintly, expectantly. The Hall was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
And then the brim of the hat opened, and sounding unbelievingly smug -
"Slytherin!"
Hermione choked, and she wasn't the only one. She watched as Harry drifted - it was the only word she could think of - over to the Slytherin table, sitting a good half a dozen seats away from Malfoy. And suddenly she remembered.
"You know Hermione…" Harry gazed at her unsurely and looked away before continuing. "I shouldn't have been a Gryffindor."
Hermione laughed, until realizing he was completely serious. "What do you mean, Harry? You're Gryffindor to the bone."
"The Sorting Hat wanted me in Slytherin," he replied quietly. "I've never told Ron, or even Ginny…. I don't think they'd understand." He turned back around to face her, fixing her dead on with the brilliant green - Slytherin green? "I'm only a Gryffindor because I told it I didn't want to be there Hermione; because I remembered what Ron had said, what Hagrid had said… and I told it no."
He sounded so vulnerable she couldn't stop herself slinging her arms around him. "It doesn't matter if the Sorting Hat wanted you in Slytherin." She pulled back and grinned at him. "It doesn't matter if your Slytherin in the marrow, we've corrupted you enough anyhow."
Harry smiled back at her in relief. "I knew I could trust you."
Hermione swallowed, as Harry's head turned, until he was looking straight at her - even though she was invisible. She nodded, even though he couldn't possibly see. It didn't matter. Harry was her friend. She would not dishonor the trust he'd placed in her.
But she worried, suddenly with a nauseous stomach, that ending the war before it had begun had suddenly became an impossible goal.
And that was how Fate stepped in and screwed with Hermione. Because destiny was not simplicity, and trying to make it that only makes it worse.
END
Reviews are welcome.
Lady Salazar