Chapter 1: Travelling
Hermione stood unaccompanied in a deserted corridor at Hogwarts. She needed some peace to think things through. She walked up to the window and looked out of a tiny crack. She let the slight, frosty breeze of air from the crack dance over her skin. This might be the last time she would ever get to appreciate the cold air touching her skin. Looking up at the dark night's sky above her sent a jolt of despair through her whole body. Less than a mile away stood thousands of wizards prompt to kill any precious soul under the command of their Dark Lord. Less than a mile away stood the Dark Lord himself, Lord Voldemort.
Hermione thought of Harry and Ron, and the notion of never seeing them again sent a shiver of sorrow down her spine. She had grown up with them, seen and been through so much with them. To lose them would kill her. But she couldn't bear to think of them dying, or anyone dying for that matter. Too much had been lost already, and Hermione wasn't prepared to let anyone else's life get shattered by Voldemort. Just a moment ago she had seen the cold dead corpses of people very near and dear to her: Fred, Remus, Tonks, and soon, she suspected, Harry would figure out what needed to be done. She had known for some time now that Harry himself was a horcrux, and so needed to die. But Hermione was not going to let that happen. She had had enough.
Subconsciously, she lowered her hand into her magically charmed duffel bag at her waist. Her fingertips touched something cold and smooth. Realising what she was doing she looked down, and took the object out of her bag. In her hands lay a small golden object, with an inscription that read,
I mark the hours, every one, Nor have I yet outrun the Sun. My use and value, unto you, Are gauged by what you have to do.
The time-turner. Apart from herself, nobody knew that Hermione kept the time-turner after her third year. She had kept it just in case it would come in useful for a desperate time in the future. A desperate time like this one?
An idea abruptly entered her mind as she looked down at the golden time-turner resting in her hands. She could end it all. She could stop all those lives from being lost. Yes, it would be dangerous and potentially stupid, but it was a risk she was willing to take in order to save the ones she loved.
She held the chain carefully in her hands and placed it slowly around her neck. Wait. She thought, I can't just leave without saying anything to Harry and Ron. Who knows what they'll do once they discover I'm missing. She set off down the empty corridor to unite the golden trio for the last time, when they came running through the archway at the end of the corridor. Everybody froze in their tracks and stared at one another for a few awkward seconds.
"Hermione," Harry began saying, before his eyes met the golden object around her neck.
"What? Hermione, no! What are you doing?" shouted Harry. Ron was a little late to notice what Harry was going on about, but when he realised he started moving towards Hermione.
"No!" she shouted at Ron. "Please, don't come any closer, or I'll turn it." Ron stopped, and stayed still, gaping at Hermione, silently begging her not to do anything stupid. Harry stepped forward, holding his arms up slightly, showing that he wasn't trying to stop her.
"Hermione," breathed Harry calmly, "I'm not going to stop you, but please, tell us what you're doing" he pleaded.
"I'm going to end it all, Harry. I'm going to make sure none of this happened, for your sake, for everyone's sake. I'm going to finish this," she whispered as her eyes filled with water and a single tear spilled down onto her cheek.
"What are you going to do?" Ron asked her gently, a look of sorrow upon his face, which Hermione couldn't bear.
"I'm going to go back and end this once and for all. I'm going to go back to when Voldemort was not immortal, and I'm going to kill him" she explained, choking up as she spoke.
"You're not a murderer, Hermione, it's not you. This isn't your responsibility, it's mine. It's been my fate since the day I was born." said Harry, his voice full of emotion.
"I know. But I'm willing to do anything, even kill, to protect the wizarding world, Harry. But most importantly to protect both of you." she said looking at Harry and Ron.
"But if you go back and change things...nothing will ever be the same," said Ron in a desperate attempt to try and persuade Hermione not to do this. "We might not ever meet, we might not even be born!" he pleaded.
"I know. But the best way to protect the future is to prevent it." she said quickly as she stepped back and turned the dial on the time turner several times, before shouting a final "I love you" to the boys, and was gone.
Spinning, that's all she could see, feel and hear. Her surroundings spinning, her head and stomach spinning. She closed her eyes tightly as she travelled back in time. Travelled back to Lord Voldemort's youth, to meet Tom Riddle, and kill him.
When things finally stopped moving, and she had managed to refocus her vision, Hermione found herself standing in the exact same corridor that she had been standing in, except things were a little different. She looked at the window she had been looking out of a few minutes ago, to see that the tiny crack was not there, instead was the exact same window, but it was whole and didn't have a trace of damage.
It was night time, just like it was before she came here, but outside there was no feeling of fear, and nothing daunting stood a few miles away. Hermione's first plan was to visit Dumbledore. Dumbledore! She quickly thought, He's alive! The thought of seeing Dumbledore alive and well once more frightened her, but also kept her calm in a strange sort of way.
She set off for Dumbledore's office, when she remembered he would not be Headmaster yet, and that Armando Dippet would be Head of Hogwarts. So she set off for the Transfiguration classroom, owned by Professor McGonagall in the future, when she had to quickly steady herself. Her legs felt like a jelly legs jinx had been cast upon them, her head suddenly started spinning again, and her vision blurred. The last thing she remembered was feeling a falling sensation, and hitting something hard and cold.