Chapter 2

An: Wow. I am completely gratified and humbled by the response this story has gotten already. Thank you. I'll keep this short; just in case there was any misconceptions, I will most certainly not be pairing an old Hermione with baby Harry; I think the mere idea is highly disgusting, but it will eventually be a Harmony story, so Romione fans or Hinny fans who foster an intense hatred or whatever to this pairing, you may not want to read this. Just saying. Anyways, enjoy!

Hermione absently smoothed her hair in the mirror, her eyes fixed on a satchel above her shoulder that she could just make out in the mirror. She looked quite nice, in grey, silky, ruffled dressrobes, her hair twisted in a braided knot at the nape of her neck, pearls dangling from her ears and neck, but she cared not a whit about her appearance, just on what she was to do that night. The satchel contained the things she'd take with her when she traveled back in time. It held robes and Muggle clothes of that period that she'd stitched herself. She had taken out her whole Gringott's account, and the gold sat in several large pouches, as she had accumulated quite a bit in the many years she had worked and had not spent, having no real use to spend it. She had had the goblins transfer it all so that all the coins had been cast before the day she was going back to. She felt bad to pile such work on the goblins, as they had seemed quite angry to do it, but she needed everything to be perfect. As to not arouse suspicion, she put on a fit of nostalgia that was not altogether hard to pass off, as she was ninety-four. She wanted to pack muggle money, but she knew that it had changed too much in the last near century to be safe, so she went without. She of course also packed her wand. Other than that, she had nothing, save for a few personal knick-knacks. She had debated on whether or not to pack Harry's old invisibility cloak, before deciding against it. It would not do for two of the same cloak to be floating around at the same time.

She was ready, dressed and made up for the banquet, her satchel all packed and ready to take with her. All that remained was to pen a letter, explaining what she had done.

She turned to a small desk set in a far dusty corner. She walked to it, switching on the dusty old lamp set next to it. She grabbed a quill and parchment, and sat down, ready to write.

But what to write? She did not need anyone coming after her. She already had a plan to stop that from happening, even though the mere thought made her insides squirm with guilt, for it involved destroying all the other time-turners, save for the one she was to get. She knew eventually someone would put two and two together, noting the destruction of the time-turners and her disappearance and would come looking, but she'd be long gone by that time. She'd just need to explain why she'd done it, then. Keep it short and sweet. But who to address it to? She had no friends, no family to speak of. So eventually she just decided to address it generically, and finally was able to write,

To whom it may concern,

You are no doubt wondering what I have done. Well, I shall tell you. I have traveled back in time, to November 1st, 1981. I am sure whoever is reading this knows the importance of the day before that. I am going back because I am convinced that what happened was never meant to be. I know my decision is dangerous, and effects everything, but it must be done, for the good of the wizarding world…and myself. Do not attempt to follow me, not that I believe anyone can.

Hermione Granger

She finished the note, and laid it on the desk. If the ministry sent someone competent looking for her, they'd find it.

It was almost time for the Banquet to start. After one last lingering glance at her satchel, she went out into the neat yard of her small cottage, walking a little way out from the threshold before turning on the spot in apparition with a soft pop.

She experienced the brief sensation of suffocation before landing neatly in the Ministry's main hall. She blinked, looking around her at the other arriving party members, before making her way briskly to the Banquet Hall. She was stopped just outside its doors, however, by a short, plump, balding man in dressrobes of a blinding aqua, known as Minister Archie Hoff, a jovial if somewhat irksome man.

"My dear Ms. Granger!" He called loudly, in a squeaky, carrying voice, striding forward to embrace her. Hermione accepted his embrace somewhat reluctantly, as he was not only the reason she had been bullied into retiring, she also felt a vague suspicion that, although he was almost thirty years younger than her and married, he harbored an unfathomable fancy for her, a fancy she was sure of when his embrace became lingering and his hand drifted towards her rear end, at which point she drew away hastily, sneaking a glance at his wife, who looked stony. He must favor older women, she thought, as his wife looked only a few years younger than her, although he could have simply married her as she was a rich, widowed woman with a pureblood estate to her name.

"I'm so glad you've come, dear Hermione," Archie said, letting her free of his embrace but grabbing her hand and grasping it tightly. Hermione felt herself go red in anger and embarrassment. Did he really have to act this way, in front of everyone, including his wife?

"Yes, yes, thank you, Minister," She said forcefully, drawing her hand from his. "It's a pleasure to be here." And with that, she quickly walked away to take her seat at a table set off to the side.

As Hermione had expected, the ceremony was long and arduous, to the point of gruesome, as they listened to the Minister speak the same old tired speech in the same old falsely saddened voice, eating the same old food that were supposedly 'Great favorites' of Harry (not true- there was no treacle tart, and she knew some of the things served he never would've eaten when alive,) and then the socializing and dancing that followed.

After about a half hour of forced conversation with former colleagues, (and avoiding Archie, who was becoming steadily drunker and had taken to showing up randomly, becoming more and more flirtatious,) Hermione excused herself on the pretense of using the restroom, and, once out of the sight of the partygoers, slipped on the Cloak she had brought with her and stole down to the Hall of Mysteries.

Just as she had suspected, it was not at all heavily guarded, and those who did guard it were new, young workers who glanced wistfully up at the ceiling from which music could still be heard drifting down to them from the higher levels. It was only a matter of getting through the doors without arousing suspicion, and she was able to get through scot-free to the room where the time-turners were held.

The room was deserted, but she didn't dare slip off the cloak lest someone show up. She made her way to the shelf upon which sat the time-turners, gleaming. She reached a trembling hand up, and her fist closed on one. She brought it close to her face, staring at the little hourglass, still and unmoving in its holder. She stared at it for a while, unable to draw her gaze from it, before snapping out of her reminiscing and stowing it carefully, oh so carefully, in a hidden pocket in her robes. She then raised her wand, hating herself for what she was about to do, and nonverbally said the spell to destroy the time-turners before ducking out of the way of the flying glass. Her work done, she slipped back out, carefully avoiding the guards, before making it back to the elevator, where she stowed the cloak back in relief. She got to the Banquet Hall floor, but just as she was walking out of the elevator, someone grabbed her, one arm around her chest and one over her mouth, before she could get to her wand, and pulled her into an empty, secluded room off of the hall.

The arms pushed her roughly against a desk, before muttering an incantation in a slurred voice to lock the door, a voice she recognized….

"Archie!" she gasped.

"There's the spirit, love," He slurred, fiddling with the front of her robes.

Her relief that it was only Archie quickly turned to outrage at his drunken, foolish, and overly-amorous behavior. Lingering hugs and overly-familiar comments were one thing, but this was an entirely different thing.

"Archie, get off," Hermione growled, struggling with him. What did he want with an old ninety-four year old, anyways?

"Ah, c'mon, love," He complained, still drunkenly pawing at the front of her robes. "The wife's gone, and we're all alone, jus' the two of us. Cozy, eh?"

Hermione struggled, and was eventually able to free her wand arm. He was younger and stronger than her, but drunk and lusty, giving her the upper hand. She grabbed her wand, and quick as a whip, as quickly as she could have in youth, had her wand up and pointing at his chest, forcing him to back up clumsily, his hands in the air, babbling drunken protests.

"Back off, Hoff, or I swear, I'll jinx your testicles off." She growled dangerously, lowering her wand's aim to his crotch.

He backed up obligingly, gaping at her, and she swept past him, unlocking the door, furiously resisting the urge to jinx his testicles off regardless of moving.

However, she fought the urge, and, once safely away from, decided to Apparate back home. She could not afford any more close encounters, or it may be discovered she had a time-turner; Hoff had come very close to discovering hers while he pawed at her chest. No, it would be much wiser to simply apparate home, and go ahead with the final stage of the plan. She glanced around her, at the warm, well-lit Hall. She was sure she'd never see it again.

No huge loss, in her opinion.

And with that, she apparated back home.

Upon arriving, she wasted no time in changing into more practical robes for traveling, stowing the nice robes back in her room, never to be worn by her again. She put on her satchel, and slipped the time-turner around her neck. She pulled out her wand, and muttered a spell that would speed along the turning of the knob, and tell her how many times she had turned it, and began her long task.

It was in the wee hours of the morning that Hermione reached the correct number of turns, her wrist aching. A warm glow spread of her, and she closed her eyes, feeling the rush of time transport her, saying goodbye to her past life, and hoping, hoping, it would work….