Chapter 1

A/N Nothing belongs to me. This whole world is the fabulous JKR's.

This story is canon all the way up to the Deathly Hallows' final battle. Let's just assume that Harry decides not to come back but instead decides to join his parents and Dumbledore in the afterlife.

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Hermione squinted to see what Hagrid was holding. She heard cries around her as he came close enough to realise what was making the half-giant sob.

"Harry, oh no, Harry!" she cried out.

As Voldemort spoke, mocking them, she kept her eyes trained on Harry, hoping beyond reason that he would sit up, hold up his wand and end this once and for all.

Her hope was futile though. Harry was dead. His green eyes were dull and unseeing. Helplessness enveloped her as she realised what this meant. Neither can live while the other survives. Their final chance at ending the war was over, Voldemort had won. Around her, a battle had started. Her friends and class mates were falling all around her. She suddenly realised what she had to do. She started to run up the entrance of the castle. A red light came shooting towards her, missing her only by a few centimetres and hitting the stone behind her. She turned around quickly and without thinking she cried, "Sectumsempra!" Barely pausing to watch the effects of her curse, she dodged and weaved her way to Professor McGonagall's office.

Bodies littered her path but she forced herself to ignore them. She finally understood the descriptions of battles in the fictional books she had read as a child. She had always been in awe at the fictional heroes' ability to so quickly learn to stomach and adapt to the bloodshed that war brought. She was only seventeen and although she had always considered the last seven years as a type of training, nothing could have prepared her for the sheer terror of war. She had learnt to push down her fears and ignore the hysteria that always seemed to be bubbling under the surface. War wasn't like school, it was uncontrollable, irrational and it nothing could be relied on to go to plan.

This would be different though. Harry, Ron and her had spent the last twelve months trying to destroy parts of Voldemort that had already been created. But what if one could simply go back in time, stop things at the source? It was risky, she knew that. Sometimes, as she tried to fall asleep in the tent in the middle of nowhere, she'd contemplate this as an option but she always discarded it. She knew enough magical lore to know that time travel was far too risky and volatile. That using a time turner for any time period over twenty-four hours was unpredictable. That she could die if she was spat out at the wrong time. But what other choice did she have now? She would die if she stayed here anyway. They all would. Harry already had.

McGonagall's office was unlocked. With all the commotion, she must have left in a hurry. Hermione knew exactly where the time turner was kept. At the end of her third year she had witnessed her transfiguration teacher place it back in the fourth drawer at her oak desk. She hoped fervently that the Ministry hadn't asked for it back after they destroyed the rest during their break-in their fifth year.

With frantic, trembling hands, she rifled through the drawer. Countless mementos and small magical curios she ordinarily would have loved to examine were shoved to the side unceremoniously. A glint of gold shimmered.

"Yes," she breathed, relief enveloping her.

She calculated quickly in her head. She would have to go back before Voldemort's first year. Before he ever came to Hogwarts and learnt of his magical heritage. She would go and find him at the orphanage. She would find him and she would kill him.

Hermione placed the time turner around her neck. In the distance she could still hear the noise of battle. She thought briefly of going back and trying to find Ron but quickly dissuaded herself of the risk. She could be killed trying to find him in the chaos.

"This is it," she said softly to herself, clutching it firmly now, "there's no turning back now." She took a deep breath, purposely drawing out the moment. She began to turn back the dial.

Almost immediately she felt a strong tug at her stomach and she witnessed years of activity in the Gryffindor head of house's office. McGonagall, Dumbledore and countless students entered and left.

The room slowed down...

Hermione fell to her knees. She was alone in the room. She cast a quick tempus charm to learn the time and date.

5:38 pm. 28th August, 1945.

"Oh crap," The time turner had thrown her back eight years later. This was Voldemort's seventh year at Hogwarts.