Author's Notes: I feel obligated to inform readers that I am unlikely to update this fanfiction at all. As evidenced by my other fanfictions, I have little capacity to finish anything that I start. For that reason, those that cannot stand cliffhangers, abort now, or if you truly like it (which, by this point, I doubt you do), you'll have to PM me every single day to make me even think about writing more if I have already lost interest. Everything I upload is a sketch, and if I know it is going to be a blight on the fanfiction world, I will take it off. I hope that I can do better in the future, but for now, enjoy what you can.
Chapter One
The sun was low in the sky, shadowing the large cumulus clouds a deep purple color. In the pond, a frog croaked his mating song as the garden gnomes snickered amongst themselves in the bushes. Two shadows came into being upon the grass, startling the warty amphibian back into the water with a splash.
"Come on, Crookshanks, into my arms...there we go..." Hermione shifted Crookshanks, already old and feeling the effects of arthritis, despite being a cat from the wizarding world. Knocking on the door, a cat's face carved itself out of the wood.
"Name, darling?" it rasped into the silence.
"Hermione Granger, Miffy," she said, reaching into her bag for a treat. She had discovered that even wooden cats liked treats-she just hadn't figured out where all those tuna chews went.
"Come in, dear, she's waiting for you."
Hermione smiled half-heartedly as she entered the abode of Professor McGonagall, shutting the door firmly behind her. Walking past the familiar set of Gryffindor sayings above the stove, she went directly to Professor McGonagall's bedroom. Walking in as quietly as possible, she knocked on the door.
"...Miss Granger?" Without missing a beat, Hermione answered in a practiced manner. "Professor, I came as soon as I could."
"I understand you have many questions for me; sit down by the bed." Walking over to the prostrate form of her professor, Hermione gazed at her cancer stricken teacher. Wizarding cancers were unavoidable for a select few, and Professor McGonagall happened to have a family history of the Bumble-Skrewt disease, originating from the Blast-Ended Skrewts that Hagrid was so fond of. It hit every 7th generation, and the Stupefying incident only made the onset of the disease earlier.
"I have little time left, and it seems out of the ordinary to be sharing it with a student, but it is both necessary and important for you to partake in the information I have for you. This will influence you for the rest of your life, whatever you choose."
Hermione nodded solemnly, mind already racing. The war was over-what could Professor McGonagall say that would have such an effect at such a peaceful time? Was it unrelated to the war? Was Harry in trouble? She sat up, ready to hear it.
"You know as well as I do-perhaps even better, the circumstances surrounding Professor Dumbledore's death. You know that Mr. Malfoy and Professor Snape were innocents. You are an intelligent girl. I...have a way for you to turn back time."
Here, Hermione was already full of questions and had a mindful of possibilities. "But, Professor, how can that be done? It violates a huge amount of wizarding law, and we couldn't possibly change anything without being seen."
"Miss Granger, let me finish. This is not a Time Turner. This...will bring you back to whatever time you set it to, and you will be you, but you will have the knowledge and purpose that you possess now, in order to change what must be changed. It is a secret project of Professor Dumbledore's, and I have continued it in his stead. Now, you have one chance, and one chance only. Once you use the Watch, it will be destroyed."
Hermione was nearly shell-shocked with the decisions she had to make. If she refused to do it, she would be plagued with "what-if" for the rest of her life. If she accepted it, she would have an entirely different set of problems to deal with. But her Gryffindor nature won her over, despite the intelligence she always showed.
"I'll do it, Professor."
Coughing, Professor McGonagall raised her wand. Doing a series of complicated wand movements, she pointed the wand purposefully at an indiscriminate pile of papers. Shivering slightly, the stack seemed to burn into particles that disappeared into the air, revealing a plain brown box, which slid open soundlessly.
"Take it from the box, please, Miss Granger. It will do nothing now."
Gingerly reaching into the box to reveal it to the light, Hermione laid a brilliant white stone against her own skin. Adorned with nothing, Hermione could clearly see the fragments of magic causing fissures on the stone's surface. She could feel something ethereal from this stone, but she couldn't figure out exactly what it was. She handed it to Professor McGonagall.
"When you are ready, come here again. If I have passed, my wand will be bequeathed to you, and if you, and only you have this capability, point the wand to the papers again, the stone will reveal itself to you, as my wand as opened the box and you have imprinted yourself onto the stone."
"Like a Snitch?" Professor McGonagall smiled briefly. "As clever as ever. You need only tap the stone twice and it will become a watch. Wind the longest hand to the year, the second longest to the month, the shortest to the day, and it will send your conscience there."
Hermione nodded, and after trying to make normal conversation for a while, left Professor McGonagall's house feeling quite overwhelmed and confused. Her professor had acted very nonchalant about the whole business, but Hermione was still thinking about all the consequences as she prepared a late dinner for herself.
Scooping a bit of the shepherd's pie from the night before into the bowl, she thought about her and Ron. Would she be able to change that too? Would she be able to help Harry in ways she hadn't thought possible with all of the knowledge she was armed with?
She twirled her wand over the food, warming it even as the juice poured itself into the tumbler. She would go. She had to, for the sake of the wizarding world and for her friends. Surely Harry would do the same, wouldn't he? Making up her mind, she ate dinner slowly before packing her things for St. Mungo's the next morning. She would do her interning work and conduct public business as usual to avoid suspicion, and arrange necessary things for her trip back into time in the seclusion of her apartment. Tucking into bed, she tried to forget about the burden of life.
She felt nervous as she made her early morning rounds, waving hello to the old man recovering from his episode with the doorknob. Her hands were trembling when she finally exited St. Mungo's from the employee floor. Appearing in her apartment, she sat down to catch her breath. Standing up suddenly, she told herself to get going.
She realized she didn't have to bring anything with her. If she did, it would all disappear anyway, since she would be herself as a 6th year in Hogwarts. Apparating to McGonagall's, she found herself faced with the plain wood door again.
"Name, please?" the cat asked dryly, its expressionless wooden eyes staring into Hermione's.
"Hermione Granger." she stated.
"She's been expecting you to come..." the door swung open.
Hermione fairly raced up the stairs to McGonagall's bed. Professor McGonagall was sitting up when Hermione burst in. She gave a faltering smile to the younger girl.
"Are you ready?"
"Ready as ever." McGonagall revealed the box again, and Hermione took it out of the box. Bringing it closer to McGonagall, Hermione tapped the surface of the stone twice. Suddenly, there seemed to be an intense, yet quiet ring emitting from the rock.
There was an anticlimactic poof of smoke and in her palm lay an alabaster watch, stopped at 12, 12, and 12. Twisting the winding mechanism, Hermione took a breath and stopped it at the the first number of the year, then to the second, then the third, then the fourth. It was only minutes later when she began to twist the day-hand. She looked at Professor McGonagall, who laid her hand over Hermione's and stopped the hand at the day.
Then Hermione was floating somewhere-in a dream? Everything had disappeared. It was a world of white. Snow? Memories passed before her in slow motion. Was she dying? She had no body, no eyes to squeeze shut. Then she awoke with a start.
"Hermione! I'm quite surprised you're still in bed. That's alright, join us for breakfast in the Great Hall! You know, Gryffindor's playing Slytherin tomorrow, and we need to see the team off to practice this morning."
Hermione sat up to face the beaming smile of Parvati. The Watch had worked.