Author's Note: Somehow, this story has started getting attention again in the past few weeks, and since I have lots of procrastination time to fill up during the course of a day (yay college!) I decided to re-do this. I've saved almost all of the story I had posted, except for the ending (where I could tell it was starting to get bad), but I'm going to go through and edit the story, along with re-organizing the chapters into more respectable lengths. Hopefully this time it will end better than last time; and I look forward to reviews or whatnot as to the changes. And no, I'm not going to do the same thing as was done with Everything I Know; I'll actually finish it, lol. Enjoy!
"Ms. Granger, you are well aware of the dangers of time travel, so I won't bother telling you all the things that could go wrong with this plan. There is little hope for our future, and you are it. You know what you must do?"
The brunette nodded solemnly. "I must go back in time fifty-four years and change the path of Tom Riddle," she recited precisely; there was no room for eloquence when possibly the fate of the world was at stake. Her mission was risky; there were possible consequences for this that none of them could possibly imagine. One of the most important laws surrounding time travel was that you couldn't interfere with the past. But they were desperate. Because Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, lived no more.
How it had happened, none could say for sure. It looked like it had been an accident, but there was no way of knowing whether it was one of the Death Eaters, the Dursley's, or even just the pressure of having his entire world rest on his shoulders that broke his neck falling down the stairs.
They were on the verge of losing the war against Lord Voldemort, and both sides knew it. Desperate times call for desperate measures, which was why 17-year old Hermione Granger was standing in the Headmasters office with Albus Dumbledore, Time Turner around her neck, wearing the uniform of fifty-some years previous, with a whole new identity that she was ready to assume. She had no idea how she was going to accomplish her mission, or if it was even possible, but she knew she had to succeed anyway. She had to somehow interfere with Tom Marvolo Riddle's path to power and the Dark Side.
It shouldn't have worked, by any means. It should have been impossible. And, if not for Dumbledore's occasional disregard for the law, it would have been. He wasn't supposed to travel through time any more than Hermione was (though, of course, this didn't stop him). And if Ministry officials had, a few years earlier, found out that he had, he would have had to break out of Azkaban (which, though not difficult for him, would have been a rather large waste of time for all parties involved). With his connections to the Transfiguration teacher/Deputy Headmaster who was, in fact, a fifty-year-younger version of himself, they were able to create for Hermione a somewhat safe place for her to exist, and she was spared the necessity of explaining the situation. Those involved, though – Professor Dumbledore (from 1943), Headmaster Dippet, and a few others – didn't know the full extent of the plan; that would have been even more dangerous. All they knew was that, for some reason, a student had to be transferred from 1997 to 1943, and that they were to accept that and make excuses for her if necessary.
She had said her goodbye's that morning, as few as she had to say. It was supposed to be kept basically secret, for the safety of everyone involved. Her parents had been informed, as had Ron and the rest of the Weasleys and the Order of the Phoenix; Draco Malfoy, who had, much to Hermione's dismay, been given the title of Head Boy opposite her Head Girl, had been told that she would be leaving for an undetermined amount of time, and Hannah Abbott was temporarily given the position, until Hermione's return.
Tears were forming at the corners of her eyes, and she was shaking. She was holding one end of her trunk – so it would be transported with her – and in her other hand was a piece of parchment giving her new name, birthdate, and everything else that would be expected of a transfer student starting Hogwarts in their seventh year.
She wiped the tears out of her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself. "I'm ready," she said, even though she most certainly was not; she never would be. Dumbledore nodded, took a step closer to her and grabbed the Time Turner, slightly larger than the one she had in her third year, fastened around her neck. He turned it fifty-five times. Wand in pocket, identity in hand, Hermione was transported back in time more than half a century, where Hermione Granger didn't exist and she, the bookish brunette, became Jane Levvens.
When Dumbledore let go of the Time Turner, Hermione began to spin, quickly, once for every day she traveled. More than 20,000 times she span. After about twelve, she became dizzy and had to close her eyes to stop herself from getting sick. After about five hundred, she became accustomed to the sensation and found that she was simply getting bored. At about a thousand, she became dizzy again. The pattern continued on in much the same fashion, alternating between near-illness and absurd boredom, for 20,000 spins.
When she felt the spinning stop, she opened her eyes for a moment before falling to the floor and closing them again. Feeling extremely sick and disoriented (as the final spin had caught her in the middle of a not-bored state), she stayed on her hands and knees for a few seconds before she heard a voice from above her. Her head was still dancing, however, so it took a moment for her to realize that someone was talking to her. Hermione opened her eyes, glad to see that the spinning was mostly gone, and tried unsuccessfully to get to her feet. Feeling frustrated and embarrassed at her lack of motor control and balance, she got up on to her knees and was about to try again when a hand appeared in front of her. Slightly startled, she took it, and with the help of the stranger, she stood up.
She looked around; she was on Platform 9 ¾, she saw, but it was definitely a different time. Her trunk was on the ground next to her. She blinked a few times to clear her head before looking at the person who had helped her up.
It was a girl; she looked about seventeen. She had longish brown hair, past her shoulders, and looked like she hadn't slept much the night before.
"Er – Thank you," said Hermione, slightly embarrassed, and hoping the girl didn't ask too many questions she was unprepared to answer.
"My name is Elizabeth Derkins. I don't believe I've seen you before," she said.
"I'm Jane Levvens," Hermione introduced herself, making sure to give the proper name to avoid complications. "I'm a transfer. I got special permission to be here for my seventh year, from Headmaster Dippet. He told me I should find the Head Boy or Girl; I have a letter for them," she told Elizabeth; she said it a bit faster than she should have, perhaps, but Elizabeth didn't notice.
"I'm a prefect, so I have to go meet with them. Why don't you come along with me?" Hermione considered herself extremely lucky to have found someone so helpful so soon; she had thought that she was going to have to wander around the train for ages before someone would take pity on the obviously new girl (as she couldn't very well just go up to the Prefect's carriage like she knew where it was).
"That would be excellent," she agreed. Elizabeth and Hermione – with little difficulty – got their trunks on the Hogwarts Express. Hermione followed Elizabeth to the prefect's compartment, dutifully pretending she didn't know where it was.
When the two girls entered the compartment, Elizabeth received a few "Hello"s, and Hermione received a few stares. Elizabeth introduced Hermione (as Jane, of course) to the Head Boy and Girl.
"Tom, Bethany, this is Jane Levvens. She's a seventh year transfer. Jane, this is Tom Riddle, Head Boy, and Bethany White, Head Girl." Trying very hard to seem as if she was nervous because it was a new school and not because the future Dark Lord was standing three feet in front of her, Hermione handed the letter, with a slightly shaking hand, to Tom.
"This is from Headmaster Dippet; he told me I should give this to you." She didn't know what the letter said; Professor Dumbledore, though he had taken care of all the arrangements, wouldn't divulge everything to Hermione; he thought it would be better if she found out at the same time Jane was supposed to.
Tom read. "It says that you've already been sorted into Slytherin." Hermione tried not to gasp, as that would cause much suspicion; Tom looked rather pleased, she saw.
"It also says that we should find a seventh year to show you around the castle," added Bethany. This was no surprise to Hermione; after all, she wasn't supposed to know anything about Hogwarts. Bethany looked up from the paper, turning her sharp brown eyes authoritatively from Hermione to Elizabeth. "Elizabeth, would you mind? After all, you are a prefect, a seventh year, and a Slytherin."
"Of course. I don't mind at all." As if she was going to refuse a request from one of the Heads; she was a prefect, after all.
"Right then. Now that that's settled, we have a prefect meeting to get to, so if you wouldn't mind, Jane?" Bethany nodded her head towards the door.
"I'll find you when we're done," said Elizabeth reassuringly. "Just – find somewhere for us to sit, okay?"
Hermione nodded and walked out of the compartment, glad that she had overcome the first hurdle and that she hadn't fainted or screamed when she met Tom Riddle. She walked around a bit, looking for an empty compartment; after about ten minutes, she found one that only had a few people in it.
"May I sit here?" she asked politely. The girls already sitting inside nodded their heads, and so she sat and waited for Elizabeth to show up and for the plan to continue.
It seemed to Hermione that the prefect's meeting in 1943 took much longer than the one in 1997, but realized that it was probably because she was so anxious to get on with her mission.
While waiting for Elizabeth's return, Hermione tried to get to know the girls in her compartment, so she wouldn't arrive at Hogwarts knowing only 3 people; it would make her feel quite like a first year again, and she hadn't enjoyed the feeling when she was eleven nearly enough to make her want to go through it all again.
There were three girls in her compartment besides herself. They were fifth years, June, Margaret, and Penelope. June was a Gryffindor, and the other two were from Hufflepuff. They seemed nice enough, as far as Jane could tell, but they weren't the kind of connections Hermione would have to make in order to succeed. Still, they were people, and she wanted to know as many students as she could, in case she needed them.
She disliked the way she was thinking; using people, needing connections. It almost made her sick of herself when she realized it. After all, these were real live people (albeit ones quite a bit before her time) she was dealing with. But she knew, when it came down to it, that she wasn't here to make friends or help people or care about anyone (as terrible as it felt); she was here to save the world, and she would sacrifice her humanitarian impulses for the time being if need be.
Hermione knew that she was changing the future with every word she said, but Dumbledore had told her that her purpose was to change the past, so she should disregard most of the rules of time travel; as long as she didn't reveal anything about the future, she should be fine. So she spoke to the girls about anything and everything she could think of, trying to get a feel for the time period without letting on that she didn't know nearly as much as they did.
Soon, however, the conversation turned to gossip about classmates, and all Jane could do was listen – which she did, trying to memorize every minute, pointless fact (anything could become vital knowledge at a moment's notice) – until Elizabeth found her.