If It Had Happened Otherwise


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CHAPTER TWO

"If a coin comes down heads, that means that the possibility of its coming down tails has collapsed. Until that moment the two possibilities were equal. But on another world, it does come down tails. And when that happens, the two worlds split apart."
-Philip Pullman


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"This is insane," Severus Snape muttered, pouring over the parchment on the floor of the train compartment.

You're telling me, Hermione groaned inwardly, already sick of the A History of Magic book in her hands. It was revolting and horrifyingly different from the copy hidden within her beaded bag. She had already finished reading Modern Magical History, Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century, Magic In North America, and Mudbloods and How to Spot Them. So many things from her own time either did not exist, had not yet been discovered, or had been changed.

Grindelwald had never been expelled from Durmstrang, and he had instead tried and failed to bring down the Statute of Secrecy in Germany in order to help Muggles by lending them magic, a chapter Hermione had to read twice before she believed it. Grindelwald had been defeated in 1950 by none other than British Auror Tom Riddle, something Hermione figured had helped him win the election for Prime Minister a year later. Germany now had some of the harshest laws concerning Muggles, going so far as to kill rather than Obliviate if necessary. Certain islands of Japan were for wizards only, and had decrees stating that Muggle-hunting was legal.

Hermione had checked the books, which she had borrowed from Snape, at least five times before confirming with the boy himself that things such as Legilimency and Veritaserum did not actually exist at all. Vampires and dementors were merely children's fairytales, and the word Lycanthropy was not found in any book anywhere. Likewise, there were no records of the Triwizard Tournament or the ability of Parseltongue (although Slytherin House was still represented by a snake). And nearly every book, aside from the American ones, described Muggle-borns as thieves who needed to be purged from the wizarding world. She was certain Snape found her questions to be idiotic and unnecessary, and without a doubt he had concluded her American home-schooling to be sorely lacking. Hermione didn't push the issue; she was simply grateful Snape carried around as many books as he did.

"Are you sure you want to go with the last name Granger?" he asked again. "It's not exactly a wizard name. People will suspect you of being a Mudblood." He had been extremely suspicious of her Mudblood status upon exchanging names and pleasantries, but she had quickly thought up a fake backstory.

Hermione threw the book into the pile with the others. "I told you," she said, rolling her eyes, "I am not a Mudblood. I am a descendant of Hector Dagworth-Granger."

Neither of which were entirely true, but Snape didn't need to know that. Hermione could only guess that perhaps Hector (in her own time) had produced a Squib in his family line somewhere, which had eventually led to her birth and magical abilities, but there was no evidence to support the theory. She also wouldn't call herself a Mudblood, if she were to play by their rules here, seeing as how she had never stolen anything.

"You're just lucky he died over a century ago, so there's a considerable gap of time I can manipulate," muttered Snape, his nose practically rubbing against the parchment he was drafting.

He had been reluctant to help at first, even with the guilt of Lily's death hanging over him. Hermione suspected he did not want to get involved out of fear of being arrested for helping a Mudblood (which she was not, as she had to keep reminding him). However, in the end, Snape had agreed to smuggle her into Hogwarts to see Albus Dumbledore, and that was all. "I wash my hands of you after that, do you hear?" he had promised.

He had lent her a pile of books so she could catch up on the history and laws of Britain. Hermione had requested anything he might happen to own on North America as well ("for comparisons," she had told him, when he had questioned her need for books on the country she'd supposedly come from), because if she was going to pretend to have lived there for an amount of time, she needed to be familiar with those laws as well. She found it highly amusing to learn that American wizards called their Muggles 'No-Majs', and was surprised to find that, while the current American wizarding community was welcoming of Mudbloods, in the past the country had been one of the most segregated and secluded.

Severus Snape, meanwhile, was drawing up a Patent of Magical Lineage for one Hermione (Dagworth-)Granger. It was extremely difficult work, not to mention completely illegal, as the document had to be infused with magic, reminding Hermione of the Black Family Tapestry. Snape had explained that real patents were imbibed with magic from every generation of the family, something he simply could not do. Instead, he would provide a magical seal of his own creation for Hector and his closer descendants, while Hermione provided hers for her father and grandfather, and their magic would meet halfway and mix.

"If the Ministry runs a check on this... they'll know immediately," he said, and Hermione thought he almost sounded apologetic. "I'm sure there's another patent or object somewhere with Hector Dagworth-Granger's magical identity, and while I deserve an Order of Merlin for this magical feat I am pulling together, it will not hold up if they become suspicious of you."

Hermione smiled at how proud he was of his document, though she couldn't help but snort at his words. "Sorry," she replied when he had threatened to throw her out for not appreciating his work, "Severus, I am very thankful for all of your help, and I am certain that this is some very advanced-level magic. I just highly doubt the Ministry would award you for helping a supposed Mudblood."

Snape grunted in acknowledgment. "All my talents... going to waste. You'd better not get caught."

"And you're sure Dumbledore will help me?" she asked again, giving up on the books completely and joining Snape on the floor. She began prodding the document with her wand, following his instructions on how to lend it her magical seal. Hermione felt incredibly lucky to have her own vinewood wand with her, rather than Bellatrix's walnut one. Snape had implied that magical seals worked best when performed with a wizard's own wand, and that a seal created with a borrowed one would be very weak. Hermione had lost her wand after the Snatchers had taken her, Harry, and Ron to Malfoy Maner. She had thought it gone forever until Draco Malfoy had visited the Burrow one July afternoon, unannounced and unexpected. He had thrust the wood back into her hand and Disapparated without a word, but Hermione understood it was his way of apologizing.

Snape rolled his eyes at her repeated question.

"Definitely. That Muggle-lover will be only oh-too-happy to protect you, I can almost guarantee it," the boy said in a bitter tone. "He may not show it, but that old codger has been fond of Muggles for decades. I'm sure Dumbledore would let Mudbloods attend if he could, though it will never happen with the current Ministry decrees. If I had been able to get Lily there..." He trailed off dejectedly. "The Ministry oversees who get Hogwarts letters though, so it will never happen. However, since you are a Half-Blood, I'm sure you'll be fine."

His tone implied that he didn't believe her one bit, but Hermione ignored him. She was too relieved that this Dumbledore was still a good person, that he wasn't a Pureblood fanatic and whatever other theories her mind had been conjuring. However, she was still extremely nervous. In order to see Professor Dumbledore before the Sorting Ceremony, she would have to make her way inside the school quickly. Snape had let her borrow his owl to send a letter ahead to the Headmaster, but she didn't know if it would arrive in time or if Dumbledore would even see it.

Her plan wasn't completely thought-out yet, and Hermione could admit to herself that it still needed some fine-tuning, but she was confident in her decision to attend Hogwarts as a seventh year student. She was ready to play the part, having been on her way to Hogwarts back in her own time, and with the fake background Hermione was inventing, something steeped in truth would be a welcomed counterbalance. Setting aside the problem of gaining Dumbledore's trust and admission to the school, this plan was the perfect cover while Hermione researched a way to get back to her own timeline. She was positive her journey to 1977, albeit a warped one, had something to do with the orange curse that had struck the barrier at King's Cross. She would need to acquire permission to peruse the Restricted Section, as such a spell was probably Dark Magic, but her swotty know-it-all teacher's-pet self had never had too much issue achieving this in the past. Or was that the future now? Did it even matter considering she had crossed into an alternative universe? Hermione decided to not question it further, lest she develop a headache, and as she was about to sneak her way into school, she felt it best to have a fully focused mind.

She had charmed her school books to reflect boring old guides and texts, things surely to be left alone should anyone manage to find them. Snape had allowed her to duplicate his textbooks for the seventh years, as Hermione couldn't very well walk into classes with books full of spells, potions, and knowledge that didn't exist, even if they were charmed to look like something else; Snape of course was merely under the impression that her old books had been outdated American texts. She had removed her Gryffindor ties and jumpers, stuffing them into her beaded bag (something Snape had watched with open fascination, though she'd been careful to shield the red and gold colors from view while doing so), and all of her robes had been reverted to their original black, hiding any and all lion emblems.

Hermione wished she had Harry's Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map, but both objects were back with their rightful owner. She did, however, still have a multitude of books from both Dumbledore's and the Black family's collection, and she intended to thoroughly browse them during her free time, along with Hogwarts's vast literary selection.

By the time a fifteen-minute arrival announcement was made, Snape and Hermione had finished their work. Her brand new Patent of Magical Lineage was rolled and carefully stored in her beaded bag. Most students left them in their trunks, but as Hermione was a newcomer, Snape recommended she keep it on her person at all times.

"I can't thank you enough," she told him earnestly, rechecking her trunk.

Snape frowned, making sure his own things were in order. "Don't thank me at all. This wasn't for you."

Hermione smiled softly. "I know. It was for her."

The protection he had never been able to give to Lily Evans... Severus Snape was bestowing it upon Hermione Granger now. In return, she had gifted him the snapshot of Lily, and she had even charmed it so that no one else would question why he owned a picture of a little girl. "If anyone ever does find it at the bottom of your trunk, all they will see is a signed photo of our esteemed Minister of Magic," she had informed him.

All too soon, the Hogwarts Express was pulling into Hogsmeade and students were beginning to disembark. Not wanting to be associated, Snape would leave the compartment first, and Hermione would exit the train sometime later, joining the end of the throng of students.

Snape collected his luggage with one hand, before holding the other out towards her. "Dagworth-Granger," he nodded, bidding farewell and waiting for a handshake.

She clasped his pale hand in hers, before yanking Snape to her. Hermione threw her arms around him in a tight hug, not caring if it made him uncomfortable or if he swore under his breath he would hex her. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear, before pulling away.

Snape tried to glare at her murderously, but the effect was somewhat diluted due to the faint blush dusting his cheeks. Then with a swish of his robes, he had canceled the locking charm and left the compartment, sweeping down the corridor with the rest of the students.

Hermione took deep, slow breaths. You can do this, you can do this. All she had to do was exit the train and climb into one of the waiting carriages. One step at a time.

The thundering of footsteps quieted after a few minutes, and only then did Hermione feel it was safe enough to exit the cabin. She avoided the eyes of other students, concentrating on her destination and hoping that she came off as impatient or even snobby; the less interaction, the better. She joined a squad of second and third year Hufflepuffs, trusting that they were less likely to question her identity due to their age and the easygoing nature of their House. She sat in a carriage with two second years, and while the boys had said hello, they were too wrapped up in their Chocolate Frog card collections to pay her much notice.

The carriages took off, wheels and hooves clamoring over the stones which were still wet from an afternoon thunderstorm. Although Hermione had seen thestrals before, and had even ridden them on two separate occasions (the first time blindly at that), she couldn't help but stare at them now, wondering if they were same as the thestrals in her time. They certainly looked the same. One of the boys caught her staring and had a questioning tilt of his head, likely confused on what she was looking at, and she hurriedly stared instead at the approaching castle.

Hogwarts architecture, thankfully, had not changed from the school Hermione was familiar with. It looked exactly the same, right down to the weather vanes, and she could only pray that the inside had the same treatment.


To her surprise, and immense relief, Professor Dumbledore was waiting in the Entrance Hall. He smiled and greeted the other students, some of whom appeared bemused to find the Headmaster welcoming them back. His eyes twinkled as Hermione approached.

"Ah, Miss Dagworth-Granger, was it?" he asked, smiling politely. "I received your owl and am delighted to welcome you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Not one to believe the impossible could be gained so easily, Hermione merely nodded, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Let us talk privately while the other students get settled and wait for the first years to cross the lake," the headmaster continued, signaling for her to follow.

He led her into a side chamber similar to the one where Professor McGonagall would be prepping the first years soon. However, this room had a large desk with a squishy armchair behind it, and a smaller but comfortable chair in front. Dumbledore gestured to the seat, going behind the desk to sit in the armchair. Hermione sat slowly, her attention drawn to the papers on the desk, one of which was the letter she had penned only hours before.

"So," Dumbledore began, peering at her from behind his half-moon spectacles, "you are Miss Hermione Dagworth-Granger, from the United States of America, New York specifically. Distant relative of Hector Dagworth-Granger. Home-schooled by your father, a wizard, until last year, when he died." The man paused. "I am very sorry for your loss."

He was watching her carefully, but Hermione had come prepared. Thinking of the loss of her own parents, drawing from those first days after she had wiped away their lives, how they had refused her after those memories had returned... "Thank you," she said, voice heavy with emotion. "I miss him terribly."

Dumbledore nodded, glancing back down at her letter. "You said your mother was a Muggle, is that correct? And that after the death of your father, the two of you moved back to Britain, to find and contact any of his relatives?"

"Yes sir," Hermione answered, praying that she could pull this off. She had certainly lied convincingly under worse conditions, thinking back to her torture at Malfor Manor.

"My mother was a Muggle, so she couldn't help me with anything magical, you see. And my father didn't leave behind a will... She hoped to contact his relatives here, if there are any... He didn't reveal much of his family, so all I've got to go on is his name," she explained, trying to sound curious and sad and earnest all at the same time. "So we decided to move back to Britain, only..."

Hermione paused for effect, wondering how it had come to this, to deceiving her dead headmaster about her Muggle parents so she wouldn't be thrown in Azkaban.

"Only you didn't know how tightly the Ministry is monitoring foreign witches and wizards here," Dumbledore finished for her. Hermione held her breath, waiting for him to expand on his conclusions. "You traveled here by plane and established yourselves through Muggle means. You were unaware that the Ministry does not allow in foreign witches or wizards without proper procedures. You would have been safe in the Muggle world. But when your mother started asking questions about the Dagworth-Granger family... and you seemingly appeared out of nowhere..."

"They attacked us," Hermione choked out, thinking back to her time at Malfoy Manor, of how frightened she had been, of the torture she had endured at Bellatrix's hands. Her scar itched. "Accused me of being a Mudblood, of my mother being a thief, and they... they... they killed her!"

Dumbledore studied her, watching as Hermione sniffed and wiped away her tears. He then stood and rifled through the other papers on the desk. "I trust you have some patents with you?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, pulling the parchment from her bag. This is it, she thought. Snape's Order-of-Merlin-worthy document would be put to the test.

The headmaster glanced over it, a tiny smile playing on his lips.

"I see Mister Snape is quite adept at magical seals."

Her blood ran cold. Hermione tried to hide any sort of reaction, though she was shaking uncontrollably on the inside. It hadn't even lasted a full minute, Dumbledore had not even cast any revealing spells; he had been able to sense it using his own magical knowledge.

"Forgive me, my dear," he apologized, pulling a sheet of parchment from his pile, "but the Ministry would not be fooled by this display of false identification." He smiled fondly. "No matter how impressive it may be."

Hermione's thoughts were racing. She'd been found out. What could she do? She could try to Imperius Dumbledore? No, that would never work. She couldn't imagine any amount of begging would make a difference. A bargain perhaps? But she had nothing of value...

Dumbledore was no longer smiling. "As much as I disagree with their methods, the Ministry requires that any suspicious persons be reported immediately. Surely if you are who you say you are, they will be able to help you."

No... no, no, no, no. She couldn't go to the Ministry! Hermione would not let that happen. There must be a way! She had put too much faith in Dumbledore, thinking of her Dumbledore. And she should have remembered how shrewd and calculating he could truly be, manipulating Harry to find the Horcruxes, how he had ignored his ill sister for the greater good

His sister. His family. Rita Skeeter's book. Things Harry had heard at Fleur and Bill's wedding.

"Professor, if you please, I'd much prefer your help," she began carefully, controlling the edge in her voice. "If you think about it... you'll find my situation is very similar to your own family."

The headmaster was staring sharply now, and Hermione had never been on the receiving end of Dumbledore's anger, but this was nerve-wracking enough that she hoped to never infuriate the man. She struggled to keep her voice steady. "I'm sure your mother would have extended a helping hand," she said with precision, not exactly threatening the man but it was there, laid out on the table with her fake Patent of Magical Lineage.

She had no tangible proof, of course, that Kendra Dumbledore had been Muggle-born in this time. Hermione only had the words of Harry Potter, a boy who wasn't alive (and never would be), and a copy of The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, a book which contained dangerous and contraband information, let alone it had not yet been published. Hermione never would have thought she would threaten Albus Dumbledore of all people, not to mention the thought of blackmailing a teacher had her stomach squirming.

"What do you want, Miss Dagworth-Granger?" the old man asked pointedly. She didn't know if he had bought her threat, or if he was merely humoring her.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I would like, with your permission, to finish my seventh year of schooling, sir."

The headmaster stared at her for a very long time without responding. Hermione stared back with equal measure, refraining from biting her lip or wringing her hands. She had faced more terrifying things in the last year than a steely Professor Dumbledore. She had lied under worse conditions, and she had saved her arse, and Harry's and Ron's too, on more accounts than she could remember. She was the most brilliant witch of her age, and Hermione would get through this.

If her racing, obnoxiously loud heartbeat didn't give her away first.

At long last, Dumbledore waved a hand over her patent. The names Snape had designed remained the same, but Hermione could feel a different sort of magic coating the parchment, something stronger.

She dared to hope.

"I am lucky enough to own a few potions documents from Hector," explained Dumbledore. "I have transferred his magical identity into your patent and correctly mixed it with your own. As impressive as Mister Snape's magic is, I removed his signature to avoid any complications."

She let out a breath. Her blackmail had worked. Which was oddly curious, Hermione thought, for if Kendra Dumbledore had been a Muggle-born, surely she would have been sent to Azkaban. Then again, she was likely born long before Tom Riddle began ordering the capture of Mudbloods, and perhaps she had even died before it as well. Still, the fact that Dumbledore had taken it as a threat meant that the information was not widely known and likely incriminating, even if the pamphlet did not offer any details on how to treat the offspring of Mudbloods. Likely they were considered thieves themselves.

"This piece of parchment alone cannot protect you," the headmaster spoke suddenly, not looking at Hermione but instead drafting a second letter. "The Ministry oversees the entire Hogwarts roster... they will have to be notified of a new transfer student. They will be suspicious even with the proper paperwork. I hope for your sake," he glanced at her with warning, "that you are prepared."

Swallowing, Hermione nodded gratefully.

He handed her the letter he'd magically drafted. "This is a copy of your Hogwarts acceptance letter. By some chance, it slipped past the Ministry's notice, though they will undoubtedly find a copy once they check their records," he explained wryly, his eyes twinkling. "You should expect an inquiry within the week, and neither I nor my mother will be able to help you then."

She hated that it had come to this, that she had blackmailed Dumbledore. But Hermione was nothing if not resourceful. Staying safe and returning to her own time were the objectives here. If she had to hurt Dumbledore's trust in the process... so be it.

"Well then, Miss Dagworth-Granger, let us not delay the Sorting Ceremony any longer."

Hermione gathered up her documents, placing them inside her bag with care. She knew Dumbledore was eyeing it with interest, but she wasn't going to offer any details. With a tap of his wand, the headmaster vanished the desk and chairs, and he then proceeded to leave the room. Hermione followed closely, scarcely believing her luck.

She would still need to proceed with caution, though. Dumbledore may have allowed her into his school, but blackmailing him had certainly ruined her chances of gaining his trust. He had informed her that the Ministry would be notified, and there was always a chance he could let something slip... Even if Professor Dumbledore kept his suspicions to himself, Hermione was still set for an inquiry later this week. She was not looking forward to that, dreading it actually, as no doubt she would be interrogated by Aurors and possibly even Voldemort himself.

Her stomach lurched uneasily and she tried not to think about the days to come.

Hermione joined the queue of first years that had lined up just outside the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall gave her a hard look but did not comment, though she did have a brief exchange with the headmaster before the doors opened.

For one tiny moment, Hermione could pretend she was home. The Great Hall was as inviting as it had ever been during her first six years at Hogwarts. Candles floated overhead, flickering against the bewitching night sky of the ceiling. Students chatted aimlessly and comfortably, laughing without care. The floor was spotless, the walls straight, tables devoid of any dead bodies–

Hermione focused her attention on the small boy in front of her as she followed the line towards the front of the hall. One step at a time.

The chatter had died down quickly, and she could feel hundreds of eyes staring at her, wondering why there was a new, older girl with the first years. She didn't dare glance at the Gryffindor table, where the Marauders were undoubtedly whispering about her. She did look over to where the Slytherins sat, catching sight of Snape with the other seventh year boys. He caught her eye and looked away quickly, though he seemed relieved to find she had made it this far.

Her attention was drawn to the boy sitting to Snape's right. A boy with dark waves and high cheekbones who looked oddly familiar. His eyes were narrowed and brows furrowed, and when he noticed her staring back, he glared with malice. Hermione hurriedly looked elsewhere, but she could still feel his gaze burning into the back of her head.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat for attention. "Now, when I call your name, you will sit here, and I will place the Sorting Hat upon your head." She paused to read the list of names. "Belby, Theresa."

A short girl with blond curls stepped forward nervously, sitting on the three-legged stool and practically wincing when Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat upon her head. It was barely a few seconds before the Hat made a decision.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The little girl sagged in relief as the Hat was removed from her head, scurrying off towards the table on the far right, which had burst into applause.

This Sorting Hat had not sung a song, Hermione noted with interest. She suddenly wondered if it would recognize she did not belong in this time. She knew from having religiously read Hogwarts, A History that the Sorting Hat contained some degree of Legilimency; however, she had also discovered earlier that Legilimency was not a thing here. She hadn't found it in any of the books, nor had Snape recognized the word. So how would the Hat know where to place her?

And what if she did not end up in Gryffindor again? This was a different time, a different place, with a different Hat. She could very well be placed into Ravenclaw, like her Sorting Hat had originally suggested. Or perhaps she would go to Hufflepuff, or Merlin forbid it, Slytherin.

Several students had already been Sorted by the time Hermione pulled herself from her thoughts and paid attention.

"Corner, Derek."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Dagworth-Granger, Hermione."

Whispering broke out as she stepped forward. She heard things like "I saw her on the train" and "Where did she come from? We never have transfer students". She nervously sat on the stool, her legs bunching up. Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat over her head, and Hermione sucked in a deep breath.

Well, well. You sure are an interesting one, came the familiar voice in her head. Muggle-born you may be, but magic thief you are not.

Hermione paled at the Hat's words, glancing around worriedly. Everyone was still staring, but she imagined there would be more of a reaction if anyone else had heard the declaration. But the Hat was somehow reading her mind! She stored away this contradiction for later thinking.

Never fear, I am merely here to Sort you, not judge you. So, where to put you? You have many traits that would suit any House, yes, even Slytherin. You don't think your blackmail of the Headmaster was a cunning way to achieve your end goal?

Please don't put me in Slytherin, Hermione begged. There may not be any Muggle-borns for them to scorn here, but she was sure they were still a dreadful lot, recalling the scary boy next to Snape.

That may be, but you also have a great sense of loyalty, justice, wisdom. What am I to do with you?

The Hat was silent for a long, painful minute. Hermione was fully aware of every student's gaze as they peered at her from the tables. She could tell from their faces that the Hat was taking an unusual amount of time to decide with her. She wished she could turn around to see Professor Dumbledore's reaction, but she didn't dare move.

You face great danger here, you know. The road you seek is a long and difficult one, with many sacrifices. Knowing this, will you still risk everything?

The road I seek? she repeated, confused. Wait, does this mean there is a way for me to return–

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Reeling from the information the Hat had let slip, Hermione stumbled her way over to the Gryffindor table, with something akin to muscle memory. She blindly sat down at the end of a bench, not paying mind to those around her.

The Hat had said she would face danger and sacrifice. But it had sounded as if there really was a way for her to return home, to her own place and time. And this roused Hermione's spirits more than the clapping of the other Gryffindors ever could.

The Sorting concluded, but Hermione was far too immersed in her thoughts to notice. She jerked back to attention when Headmaster Dumbledore mentioned her name during his Start of Term speech, something he usually only did after the food had been finished. However, here, he was addressing the school with a bit more seriousness than the Dumbledore Hermione had known.

"And we would also like to welcome our first transfer student from America, Miss Hermione Dagworth-Granger!" he had announced, gesturing towards the Gryffindor table. "She will be finishing her last year of school here, so please make her feel at home."

She sank low into her seat as Dumbledore continued and listed off a few reminders before telling the students to tuck in and enjoy their meals. The plates suddenly became full with roast chicken, mashed potatoes, carrots, and various other dishes.

Hermione had managed to help herself to a serving of chicken and potatoes before a group of girls abruptly squeezed their way onto the bench across from her.

"So! New girl!" one of them said, and Hermione noticed she had gorgeous golden locks. "What brings you to Hogwarts so late in the game?"

The girl directly across from Hermione rolled her eyes. "Marlene! Don't be so rude. Sorry about her," the girl said to Hermione, running a hand through her short brown bob, "she forgets her manners."

"Hey!"

"Like that. I'm Alice King," the girl introduced, holding out a hand for Hermione to shake. "The rude one's Marlene McKinnon, and this here," she pointed to the last girl on her left, "is Penny Haywood."

Hermione had never heard of the blonde, pigtailed Penny Haywood, but she recognized the other two. Alice King had short, light brown hair and a round face with kind eyes, very reminiscent of her son Neville Longbottom. She barely resembled the shell of a woman Hermione had seen at St. Mungo's, something that, Hermione realized, would likely never happen to this girl, since the Death Eaters were not a threat. Her eyes slid over to Marlene McKinnon, whose life here would also be drastically different and not cut short by Voldemort. Marlene had the most beautiful golden hair Hermione had ever seen, hair that would surely have made Lavender Brown, who'd spent many an hour perfecting her wavy locks, green with envy. Until Hermione recalled that Lavender was dead and would never have another chance to perfect her brown curls again; she shoved those thoughts away and blinked back the tears. Marlene was pouting at Alice's comment about her being rude, and Hermione rather thought she looked something like a blond Audrey Hepburn, complete with adorable dimples.

"We're in seventh year, too," Alice added, piling her own plate high with food. "I expect your new bed will have already been added to our dorm when we get there."

Marlene was loading her plate, too, but Penny Haywood was looking at Hermione thoughtfully.

"So what brings you to Hogwarts, Hermione?" she asked, flipping one of her braids over a shoulder. "We've never had a transfer student that I can recall, and the Ministry is pretty strict about letting in foreigners–"

"Whoa, Penny, let the girl breathe," Marlene interrupted with a wave of her fork, a piece of chicken flinging from the end and landing three plates down. She sent a flirty, albeit apologetic, wink to the boy, who had turned in their direction with annoyance.

Hermione's cheeks pinked in embarrassment and nervousness. She had never been very good at talking to girls outside of Ginny. Girls like Lavender and Parvati had found her weird and unpleasant. She also hadn't expected Detective Penny, but she supposed she would have to explain her sob story at some point. She rubbed her arm reflexively where her scar was hidden beneath glamours and school robes.

"Ah well, I lived in America until recently, when... my father passed away," she muttered, glad to see the other three looking sad and sympathetic. "My mum's a Muggle and doesn't know much about magic, so we decided to come back to Britain and see if we could locate any of Dad's relatives here. We weren't aware of all of the rules..."

"That's right, America has open borders and all that, don't they?" Marlene said with understanding.

Penny still seemed suspicious. "Why didn't you just finish your schooling in America? Seems a hassle to relocate and leave your school and friends behind, when you could have just waited another year to seek out these relatives."

Alice frowned at Penny's forwardness, but Hermione didn't mind. Better to explain now and dissuade any conclusions they might draw on their own.

"Well, I was home-schooled by my dad. My mum really wanted to find other wizard relatives rather than trying to send me off to school by herself. Dad was British so she figured his family might be here somewhere."

"Hmm, I don't know of any Dagworth-Grangers who are still alive," Alice commented sadly. "Though really, only Hector Dagworth-Granger is famous, so I suppose there might be a few relatives somewhere. Are you going to help your mum look? I imagine it would be hard on her own, being a Muggle."

Hermione looked down at her half-eaten plate with sorrow. "Mum... She died only last month."

The three girls were shocked, Marlene even letting out a squeak that drew the attention of anyone around them. "Sorry," she whispered, "but I just can't believe...! Oh you poor thing..."

"Was she ill?" Penny asked, no longer sounding suspicious, but obviously still curious.

Hermione took a deep breath. "She was murdered. By wizards who thought I was a Mudblood. I... I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind." She let the tears fill her eyes as she longed for her real parents. She hadn't been able to reconnect with them before she had arrived here, in this backwards 1977, and now she might never see them again. She wondered if they were even married in this timeline, and the possibility of them not ending up together made her heart ache.

"I'm sorry," Penny offered quietly, patting Hermione's hand.

The other two nodded, and after a moment's pause, Marlene changed the subject to discuss her summer outings, which, from the sound of it, involved a lot of sand and a lot of boys. Hermione tried to pay attention, but she only ended up pushing the remaining food around her plate before it disappeared entirely.

Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat at the high table and lifted a hand, effectively silencing the Great Hall.

"Again, welcome back. Tomorrow is a new day, but for now, let us retire and rest up!"

The girls gathered Hermione and followed the other Gryffindors out to the Grand Staircase. Penny left to join the other Prefects in herding the first years, so Hermione was led along by Alice and Marlene. She found both girls to be rather kind and very friendly. Alice gave her a tour of everything they passed, explaining what rooms were located on which floors, while Marlene contributed with gossip rather than facts.

"Third floor's mostly library, though the Charms classroom is located here too," Alice explained, grinning as Hermione's face lit up. "Ah, so you like the library, eh?"

She blushed. "I love reading," Hermione admitted.

"I like the library, too," Marlene chimed in, smiling mischievously. "Great for snogging."

Alice slapped her friend's arm. Hermione looked appalled. Marlene merely giggled.

Hermione let the other two girls prattle on, pointing out various halls and classrooms. She knew it all already, of course, but they couldn't know that. She was so happy to find that the castle seemed exactly the same as the one she had attended for six years. Ten minutes later, they reached the seventh floor corridor and stood in front of the Fat Lady's portrait. Hermione did a double-take; the Fat Lady was actually rather thin!

"You just have to give the password," said Alice, nodding at the portrait.

Hermione frowned. "Err... do either of you know it?" She couldn't recall anyone informing them.

"Damn, you're right," Alice swore, covering her mouth sheepishly at the curse word. "Marlene?"

The golden girl was inspecting her nails. She looked up, confused. "Sorry, what's all the fuss about?"

Alice rolled her eyes. "I swear, if your head wasn't attached to your shoulders, it would float away with all that empty space."

"Oh, do stop arguing," a fourth voice cut in, and Hermione turned to find Penny and about five first years behind her. "The password is 'Pumpernickel.'"

"Thank goodness for that," the Thin Lady groaned, her frame swinging open to reveal the entrance.

The three girls in front climbed through, followed by Penny and the first years.

Hermione's eyes swept around the common room fondly. Everything appeared just as she would have expected from her own Gryffindor Tower. She took comfort in the familiar armchairs and roaring fireplace; she was trapped in a past with strangers and surrounded by lies, and the warm room gave her some peace. With everything else being different, she was glad Hogwarts was practically the same.

Just as Alice had predicted, a bed had been added to the seventh year girls' dormitory. Hermione's space was next to Marlene's, which was decorated with an assortment of floral wallpaper, paintings, and a few photographs of her large family. Alice's desk was adorned with plants and photos of a man Hermione recognized immediately as Frank Longbottom ("He graduated last year but we're still going strong," she said happily). Penny's area, closest to the door, was crowded with Witch Weekly magazines and a single photo of her parents.

Hermione's trunk had been placed at the foot of her bed, likely by house elves. As much as she hated slave labor, she was going to let it be; she had more pressing matters to worry about at the moment. After changing into her pajamas, Hermione crawled into bed, staving off the other girls' idle chatter and telling them she was rather tired. It wasn't a complete lie; her day had been rather draining.

She still had so much to do. So many thoughts to organize; Hermione needed to make a few lists, things to do, things to research, things not to accidentally say about the future, things that didn't exist here so don't mention those either. She would have to do this very soon, but not tonight. Tonight, she was exhausted. She drew her curtains and cast a Silencing Charm around them, not only to block out the other girls' voices, but also to prevent them from hearing any nightmares she may have. They weren't nearly as bad anymore, but she didn't have the beds of Harry or Ron to run to if they took a turn for the worse.

With the silence looming over her, Hermione found she could not sleep. Instead, she was plagued with worries. What was happening back in her time? Had anyone realized she was missing? Surely Harry and Ron would have noticed. Was everyone okay? Had anyone else walked through the barrier and ended up where she was? Or in a different, separate time and place? Perhaps Ron had run after her and ended up even further back in time with a benevolent Tom Riddle. Merlin, she hoped not; Ron would hex Riddle's face off before anything could be established. She snorted at that.

Dumbledore's warning played in her mind. The Ministry would be coming, and soon. She had to be ready for whatever they tried to throw at her. Hermione didn't know how much sway Dumbledore's words would have, if any. She felt reassured in her patent, strengthened by the headmaster himself. However, if Voldemort came to investigate personally... Hermione wasn't sure how well she could keep her composure.

She chided herself for dwelling on dark thoughts. I need to sleep, or I won't have the strength to take on the Aurors, she told herself. Don't fret, one step at a time, remember? One step... at at time...

Hermione drifted off to sleep, her dreams devoid of Bellatrix and Malfoy Manor, but instead haunted by visions of Azkaban and a terrified pair of green eyes.


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I want to thank my two reviewers and those of you who followed! I hope you are enjoying this.

I'm pulling information on America from the Fantastic Beats series as well as other places, but it may not match up exactly. Penny Haywood is borrowed from the game Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery, although her birth date and other such things have been altered to fit my story; I've never played the game, so her personality may not match exactly either. Whenever I get a better phone, however, I really want to download it!

Chapter 3 is almost done, but it needs some reworking. Hopefully I can get it up by next week, but as Thanksgiving is Thursday, it might not be until after that. Several familiar faces will make an appearance!