Hermione wakes up in her eleven-year-old body on the day she received her Hogwarts letter.

It was a rough nights sleep and Hermione wasn't quite sure why. She often slept rather soundly through the night, especially when she and Ron were visiting her parents and she got to spend the night in her old bed. Through her closed eyelids she could see that her room was already bright and sunny. She could also hear and smell the sounds of her parents making breakfast. Hermione rolled over so as to face Ron, but when she opened her eyes he wasn't there. This was rather impressive seeing as the man probably wouldn't get up early if there flat were on fire. After nearly two years together, and one full year of her being in the real world and without Hogwarts, Hermione knew that the only times he ever got up early, he brought her breakfast in bed and was exceptionally nice because he was being called away on an extensive auror mission. While this never pleased her because it meant both Ron and Harry were going off into danger without her, it was sweet that Ron would try to do something for her before he left. Hermione could only assume from the sight of her purple sheets made up nicely on his side of the bed that this were the case. She best decided that if he were planning to bring breakfast up to her, she wasn't going to stop him and she sat up in bed, leaning over to grab the new book she had just started.

"Huh thats weird," Hermione mumbled to herself as she discovered her book wasn't on her nightstand, floor, or anywhere on the bed. "Oh well. I'll just snatch a childhood favorite!" As she got up to examine the large wooden bookshelf that covered an entire wall of her bedroom, Hermione seemed to notice that a few of her books were missing. It seemed that all the ones pertaining to magic were no longer on the shelves. Had Mum and Dad had nosy guests sleeping in my room and had to hide the books? She would have to ask them when she got up later. Regardless of the peculiarities of the morning, Hermione worked her way along the shelves, trying to find her favorite, Matilda. As her arm danced through the arm in front of her shelves and her fingers seemed to play an imaginary piano, Hermione was bewildered to see that she was wearing chipped dark purple nail polish that she swore she hadn't used since she was 11. Come to mention it, I'm missing a few scars on my arms too… Hermione gasped! Where is my ring? Now she was beginning to freak out a bit. All this was too weird.

"Maybe I'll just crawl back into bed and shut my eyes. When I wake up my ring will be back on my left hand, my nails will be clean, I'll have grown a few inches, and Ron will be next to me."

As her head hit the pillow and her eyes closed, Hermione's door creaked open. "Good morning kiddo!" her father practically yelled at her. He has stopped calling her kiddo a long time ago.

Despite the confusion of the morning, she couldn't be rude to her father, so she sat up and replied, "Morning dad," with a half-smile. She was about to ask where Ron was when she noticed something. Her father's hair had almost no grey to it and his face nearly smooth. She stopped herself from speaking at the sight of the stake of pancakes with candles on top. It isn't my birthday yet…September isn't for another 2 months. Wait a second, there are 11 candles. And hold up those pancakes look just like the ones from my 11th birthday. Either something has gone terribly wrong, or Harry and Ron are playing an awful trick. "For me?" Hermione asked her father.
"Of course Sweetheart. Happy Birthday! Mum will be up soon, she's just gone to answer the door. Someone rung."
Oh no. Its Professor McGonagall. She had come to hand deliver my letter. Muggle-borns get Hogwarts officials instead of owls so someone can explain it all to us and our parents.

"Hermione! Hugo! Come downstairs! A woman would like to speak with all of us," her mum called out.

"Coming love!" her father responded.

"I'll be right down dad. I'm just going to get dressed." Hermione knew that McGonagall would ask to speak with her parents first anyway. She would have to prove the existence of magic to them before explaining it to Hermione and leaving them all with the letter that changed her life. As her father walked downstairs, she gathered clothes and went into the bathroom. Hermione wanted to cry at the sight of her 11 year old self in the mirror. It was true. She was back in time. This was not good, not good at all. I'll have to speak privately with Professor McGonagall before she leaves and explain this disaster.

She got dressed and began her dissent down the stairs. She noticed quite a few decorative changes to the house that would have further solidified that she wasn't in 21st century anymore, if she hadn't already been certain. Her parents seemed to have taken their talk with the Professor well and were gaining color back to their faces.

"Hello Ms. Granger. I'm Minerva McGonagall, a professor."

"Hello," she replied with a smile and a handshake.

As McGonagall went on to explain to her that she was magic and would attend Hogwarts the following school year, Hermione zoned out. She knew she should try to pretend to be shocked, but she was so worried about how she could have gotten here in the first place.

"Are you okay Ms. Granger?" Professor McGonagall checked in after finishing her explanation. "Any questions?"

"No ma'am, but could I perhaps speak with you in private?" Hermione asked looking sheepishly at her parents.

"Why don't you two step outside on the patio out back. That will give you plenty of privacy," her mum offered, still looking bewildered by all that had occurred this morning.

The two witches stepped outside, taking seats at the old and rusting patio table set up in the shade of a fading umbrella. Hermione turned to her Professor whom she had known for more than 8 years now, but whom currently didn't know her at all.

"Professor…" she began. "I need your help. You see I know I'm witch. I've already lived through this. I can tell you all the gory details of the "future" right now, because thats where I belong. I woke up this morning in my childhood bed, in my childhood embody/em and I don't know how or why. Help! I can't relive the last 9 years of my life. I need to get back there now." Hermione was rambling in her panic and while McGonagall had seemed a little shocked at the beginning, it had worn off and been replaced with concern for the young woman in front of her.

McGonagall paused Hermione, telling her "Were going to need-"

"Dumbledore! Yes he's here! He's isn't-" She stopped herself. She couldn't tell McGonagall that Dumbledore would die in nearly 7 years time.

"Yes. Yes. Come along then. We'll tell your parents this is standard procedure and that you should be back in a few hours."

Hermione was worried that even Dumbledore couldn't fix this problem, but she had to hold out hope. While good things like magic and Harry and the Weasleys had come out of this life, too much struggle and heartbreak and death had happened and she wouldn't beg to do it again. Even if it meant saving one or two of their friends, because who knows what that ripple effect would cost her in the good life she had in 2000 with her beloved Ron.

"Let's hope this works" she mumbled to herself as she and her Professor flooed into the headmasters office.