Quid fuisse.
What if in The Deathly Hallows, Hermione had been the one to see the Doe? Waking up in 1971 as a young girl was nothing she could ever have dreamt happening, especially not waking up to a familiar face of her best friend, but without the emerald eyes she was used to.
This story may contain small excerpts from the Harry Potter books, and I acknowledge them as property of J.K Rowling, not of my own creation. I am not making any money from this story, and I only own the plotline and any original characters.
Any excerpts from the books will be underlined, when just italics, it is thoughts or memories.
Chapter 1: Awakening.
After two nights of little sleep, Harry's senses seemed more alert than usual. Their escape from Godric's Hollow had been so narrow that Voldemort seemed somehow closer than before, more threatening. As darkness drew in again, Harryeventually gave in to Hermione's insistence that he go to bed.
The vast expanse of the forest seemed eerily quiet, so much so that I could feel Goosebumps prickling on my skin; I peered out towards the surrounding forest, shivering while doing so. Standing up so I could grab some blankets, I noticed a silver light ghosting up ahead. Enthralled by the odd sight, I stepped out of the tent, and shuffled forward, as the light got closer and brighter. Eventually the light shifted into the form of a doe, its beauty drawing a gasp out of me. The doe turned and pranced back into the trees; I was gripped by an impulsive urge to follow, while reasoning that leaving the safety of the wards without even waking harry was incredibly foolish, however the urge won over, and I followed.
The short journey ended at a small meadow, filled with snow covered trees and a large frozen pool, its surface swirling with minute cracks. With the light of my wand, I peered around, yet couldn't find any other person, even while noting that the form was obviously a patronus, so there must be someone close by. Suddenly a shimmer caught my eye; the light of my wand reflecting off of something inside the pool itself. Looking deeper, excitement pooled in my stomach. There was the sword of Gryffindor. But how to get it out? It's Gryffindor's sword, therefore only a true Gryffindor could ever summon it. A true Gryffindor, they would have daring, nerve and chivalry; I'm not sure where chivalry would be considered here, but it would take daring and nerve to will yourself to dive into a freezing icy pool of water just to retrieve something. "Diffindo" The ice slowly cracked, creating a large gap big enough for me to fit through. Summing up my courage, I removed a few layers of jumpers and placing my lit wand on the forest floor, dived in.
Around me was darkness, I could not hear anything, see anything or feel anything. Am I dead? Surely I can't be if I am at all aware of anything. Time passed, I had no way to tell how much time had gone by. Slowly my senses returned, I could feel the surface I was resting on, soft, comfy. I could hear voices sometimes, but always indistinct. Not long after that, the voices became slightly clearer, allowing me to decipher what was being said, but was still slightly confusing. "Hermione…" At the sound of my name, everything came rushing back. I'm Hermione Dorea Potter, youngest child of Charlus and Dorea, twin of James. But… wait, I'm Hermione Jean Granger, aren't I?
Finally, I could feel things again. Argh, I ache all over, what happened to me? Where am I? In my agitation, my fingers twitched, which was followed by an intake of breath. "Mum, she's waking" sounded the excited voice of a child. "Charlus, call Albus, she's finally waking. James, don't stand so close to her you'll frighten your poor sister." Charlus? Albus? James? I have a weird feeling about this… I tried to open my eyes minutely, but right in the line of my sight was the face of my best friend, causing my eyes to snap completely open in shock. Wait, his eyes are blue, and he looks like he's only eleven. How can this be? I tried to sit up but was pushed down by a firm hand. "Now dear, no sitting up yet, I'm afraid you're going to have to stay where you are for another few days." I looked away from the harry lookalike, to see a woman in her mid-forties peering back at me. She was tall and slim, dressed richly in fine robes of deep blue. Her long, raven black hair curled elegantly around her heart shaped face, emphasising her motherly smile and her stormy grey eyes. Another few days? "How long have I been here?" I inquired. Surprised by the change in my voice, I almost missed her answer. "Three days dear, James ran straight to us when you fell, he was so scared" she said, placing a caring hand on the boys shoulder. I looked straight at the boy, he looked just like harry did at eleven but there were differences, he had stormy grey eyes, the same as the woman. He was also slightly taller, more filled out, healthy. It was obvious that this child had grown up loved and cherished; he had an air of contentment around him that Harry had never had. He was looking at me expectantly, his head slightly tilted to the side, and it suddenly dawned on me, whatever had happened had sent me elsewhere. Here in front of me stood a boy who looked almost identical to harry minus the eyes and his healthy appearance, a boy who held the name James, I knew this must be James Potter, father of my best friend, meaning I must be in the past. What am I to do? How did I get here in the first place? Do I tell them I'm from a different time? Do I make up a false identity? Why do I feel like I belong to this family? I'm Hermione granger, aren't I?
My thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of two men, one young, one old. The younger man stood tall and confident, with an air of importance, which was balanced out by the easy-going smile on his face, and the happy light in his forest green eyes. He was very handsome, dressed in very fine robes, but in forest green rather than the deep blue of the motherly woman. A top of his head rested the same wild, ebony hair as the boy that they both shared with my best friend. Yes, this must be James potter, and Harry's grandfather. The sight of the Potter hair had tears pricking at the back of my eyelids. Get a grip of yourself, you need to think!
The older man, more youthful looking than I had ever seen him, and sporting a beard that had not yet reached the impressive length it one day would, was unmistakeably, Albus Dumbledore. Once again, darkness surrounded me.