Author's Note: Rowling did say that she wanted to give Hermione a younger sister, however hadn't been able to fit her into the books. So, I've decided to give her a sister. In all honesty, Hermione is a bit of a contradiction in the first couple of books. She cares so much about the rules and how teachers view her, yet she's willing to set a teacher on fire without a second thought, not to mention the blackmail later on, the curse she put on a contract she didn't tell people they were signing and any number of other things. So I've decided to offer an explanation of sorts for these contradictions, beyond the somewhat unrealistic one that it was all because of her friendship with Harry. That is not to say that her friendship with Harry did not have a major impact on Hermione.
Secondly, I know some of you are thinking that Hermione was a little out of character in the prologue. I can't blame you for that. She was certainly not in any condition to be making decisions like that.
Thirdly, this chapter focuses on Hermione. However, have no fear. The next shall focus upon Kakashi. Most future chapters will contain both Hermione and Kakashi in differing amounts.
Fourthly, keep in mind that all is not how it appears, so please don't kill me for the end of the chapter. More on exactly when they are in the next chapter.
Chapter 1
It hurt. It hurt more than anything she'd ever felt before and considering that she'd been tortured for hours on end by a desperate Bellatrix LeStrange, that was saying something. She lay still, not daring to make a sound as she waited for the pain to fade or at least become more bearable.
Eventually, Hermione managed to sit up. She flinched, trying to work through the pain. She had to find out where and when she was and if this pain was mental, physical or both. Carefully, Hermione opened her eyes, only to let out a hiss at what felt like needles being pushed through her corneas.
Shaking slightly, Hermione willed herself to ignore the pain as she forced herself to stand. Slowly but surely, Hermione managed to limp to the bathroom across the hall from her bedroom. Her childhood bedroom. After she took care of her injuries, she would need to examine it to get some idea of what year it was.
Hermione locked the door and took the first aid kit out from under the sink. She bit her lip. The kit was more extensive than most-her parents were medical professionals, after all-but it did not contain the necessary supplies for major injuries. Carefully, she stripped out of the nightgown and looked at herself in full length mirror upon the door.
No wonder she was in so much pain. It seemed that the injuries she'd received-all the injuries she'd received-had come back with her. It was strange to see the scar from the wound given to her by Dolohov in the Department of Mysteries when she was sixteen upon her now not quite pubescent body.
Carefully, she opened the first aid kit and started to pull out bandages, antiseptic ointment, soap, a needle holder, a surgical needle and sutures. She could only assume this was the condition her body had been in when she'd made the choice to return to the past.
With a sigh, Hermione began to clean her wounds using the soap before applying the antiseptic ointment and bandaging them. Once the wounds which did not need stitches were done, Hermione took a deep breath, steeling herself, before she moved on to the wounds which did.
There were reasons she preferred non-magical medicine to magical and why she had insisted upon an OB/GYN rather than a midwife. If the Aurors had not taken her to St. Mungo's-no, she would not think of that. After the Department of Mysteries, the Healers had been able to help her remove Dolohov's curse from her body-a long, arduous process-but until it's complete removal, no healing spell could be cast upon her because the curse used healing magic to strengthen itself. None of the Healers had been able to do anything for her physical injury but bandage it. Hermione had gotten to the point where she'd had Ginny smuggle a needle and thread into the hospital wing of Hogwarts so that she could sew the wound closed herself. None of the Healers had ever realized that was why she had stopped bleeding through her bandages.
Once the wound was clean, Hermione carefully began to stitch it closed. How many times had she done this for Harry and Ron? She'd lost count over the years.
Hermione used a hand mirror to check her back for any injuries. Her eyes widened. How had she missed that? It should be hurting. With a sigh, Hermione quickly tended to it. Once satisfied her external injuries were seen to, she pulled out several ace bandages and began to wrap them about her chest. Several of her ribs were fractured or bruised and since they seemed to have remained in the proper position, the only thing to do for them was to wrap her ribs so that they could heal properly.
Injuries seen to, Hermione went to put her nightgown back on, only to wince. It was covered in blood stains. With a sigh, she put it back down. Instead, she put the first aid kit away and put the packages most of the supplies she'd used on top of the nightgown.
Carefully, she wet her hair down in the sink before using a towel to dry it somewhat. Then Hermione brushed her hair out and braided it into two tails. She blinked, trying to remember the last time she'd had hair this long. At least she knew she was more than fifteen years in the past. After she'd cut all her hair off, she'd refused to grow it past…
Her hair was nearly knee length. She hadn't cut it all off yet. That meant Danny was still…
Hermione sat down upon the edge of the bathtub. She hadn't realized she'd gone that far back in time. But then, she tried not to think of Danny. Well, she wouldn't let it happen this time around.
The first change decided upon, Hermione wrapped several towels around herself, covering her bandages, so that anybody who saw her would think she had just taken a bath. She wrapped the nightgown around the garbage and limped back to her room.
It was a bit of a shock to look for something to wear. It had been over a decade and a half since she'd last worn trousers. However, it was becoming apparent that most of her wardrobe consisted of trousers and shorts. It took some doing, but she managed to find a pinafore dress which reached mid-calf and a long sleeved shirt which matched relatively well. She pulled a set of knee high socks on which would hopefully hide the bruises upon her legs before putting on a pair of rubber soled shoes easy to slip on.
Satisfied that she looked as normal as possible, Hermione picked up the nightgown with garbage hidden inside its folds. Favoring her left leg, she made her way down the stairs and out the back door. After glancing about for any witnesses, Hermione slipped the blood stained garment into the garbage pail underneath several garbage bags.
She glanced up, noting that the sun had begun to rise. Hermione walked back into the house, locking the door behind her. Somewhat hesitantly, she approached the front door. Hermione opened the door and rather than bend, knelt down to retrieve the newspaper. Using the door to support herself, she stood, suppressing the urge to cry out at the pain.
Hermione closed and locked the door before heading to the kitchen table. Her family would be up soon. She glanced at the date on the paper and let out a low hiss. It seemed that she'd been right about the time travel process being inaccurate.
"Hermia? What are you doing up so early?"
"Nothing, Mum. Just couldn't sleep," Hermione said quickly as Tyche Granger walked into the room.
Her mother was from Greece originally, and it showed in the names she had chosen for her children. Hermione had been named for the daughter of Helen and Menelaus while her younger sister, Deianira-known to the family as Danny-was named for the wife of Heracles. From what Hermione understood, the deal her parents had made was that Tyche could pick the first names and their father, Marcus, could pick the middle names.
"Alright," said Tyche. "I'll get started on breakfast. Don't forget, it's the last day of finals. You have been studying, right?"
Hermione blinked, stunned by the question. Then she looked down. Of course. She hadn't started taking schoolwork seriously until after Danny had… Well at least she didn't need to worry about taking exams she hadn't studied for. Neither of her parents would pay it much mind if she flunked.
When Danny stumbled into the room, it was all she could do not to burst into tears or start hugging the girl. The girl was to turn five this coming fall if her memory served correctly. Without a second thought, Hermione helped to fill Danny's plate with food and cup with juice, not noticing the look Tyche gave her. One of surprise closely followed by gratitude. It was not until Hermione began to eat her own breakfast that she remembered what a selfish little brat she'd been at this age.
By the time breakfast was over, it was nearly time to go to school. She could, she knew, beg a ride from her parents on their way to work, but that would only draw attention to herself and her injuries. She was still limping rather badly. The school was only three blocks away, hopefully she could make it.
Immediately after Marcus and Tyche left to go to their private dental practice, Hermione stood She collected several pens and pencils and Danny's small book bag. Normally, she was to wait half an hour after her parents left before heading to school. But at the moment, she knew it just might take her that time to walk all three blocks.
"Come on Danny, let's go," said Hermione, holding out her hand.
"But it's too early," protested the little girl as she played with the end of her plait.
"Not today it's not. Since it's the last day of school, we're going to walk really slow and enjoy all that beautiful summer weather," explained Hermione, hoping the child would fall for her excuse.
"Ok."
"Good, let's go."
As they walked at a snail's pace, Hermione carefully considered her options. Obviously going to a doctor was not a possibility. Her current injuries and her scars would be taken as signs of long term abuse. Which meant that she had to fake being fine until after they healed. And she couldn't risk getting into a situation where she was seen by a doctor for years to come.
Unfortunately, her magic was all but exhausted, which meant that she could not use it to heal herself. Admittedly, a week or two of rest would allow her magic levels to get back to normal. Normal witches and wizards healed anywhere from ten to fifteen times faster than Muggles without any aid from Healers or Medi-Wizards. Which meant nothing if her body didn't have the magic to heal her.
Her body currently had no magical training, which would make it both harder and easier to heal herself once she was capable. During her training as an Obliviator, it had taken her months to unlearn wand magic and learn the simplest of wandless magics. Admittedly, there was no true difference between what one was capable of with wanded magics as with wandless magics.
Wands were just tools, after all. Originally, wands had been used almost exclusively for more powerful magics, such as fiendfyre, where control was essential. All wands really did was aid in control and help wizards use their magic efficiently. However, as the centuries had passed, wands were used more and more often, until by the thirteenth century, wandless magics were all but forgotten save by the various European ministries and their employees.
Unfortunately, they were a tool the Wizarding in Europe had taken to using almost exclusively as a way of controlling just how dangerous the population could be. These days, only those who worked for trusted government agencies, such as the Department of Mysteries, the Hitwizards, and the Obliviator squads were permitted to learn wandless magics.
Hermione let out a sigh as she leaned against a telephone pole. She'd have to let her body heal itself without purposeful magical interference, she admitted to herself. Ah well. At least she would be able to train her body to use wandless magics before she began to attend Hogwarts.
"Are you okay?" asked Danny.
"Yeah," Hermione said too quickly. I'm just looking at those flowers. Aren't they pretty?"
Danny nodded excitedly. "Very pretty."
"Why don't you pick one-but only one-and give it to your teacher," suggested Hermione. "I'm sure she'd like it."
"Okay."
Once the daffodil was picked, Hermione continued onward, careful to keep hold of Danny's hand. By the time they reached the school. A thin film of sweat covered her brow. She'd spend the next day in bed, she promised herself.
A quick look at her watch confirmed that classes were to start in twenty minutes. Hermione dropped Danny off at her preschool classroom and then limped in the general direction of what she hoped was the correct classroom. She got turned around twice before stumbling upon one of her classmates. She quickly brushed off her questions on why she was limping by saying she'd sprained her ankle falling down a flight of stairs.
The math exam passed quickly. It was easy for Hermione to arrange it so that she got just enough, but not too many of the questions correct. The history portion was harder. Mostly because she knew more about the Wizarding version of history than about the Muggle version. Luckily that only added to the slacker image her younger self had cultivated so well.
By the time their half day of school was over, Hermione was having intermittent moments of dizziness and hot flashes, signaling that she was more injured than originally assumed.
"Hermione," called out her teacher.
"Yes, ma'am?" said Hermione as the other students raced out of the room.
"Are you alright? Do you need to see the nurse?"
"I'm fine. Just a sprained ankle."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, ma'am. I have to go. I'm supposed to walk my sister home."
"Of course. Goodbye, Hermione. Have a nice summer."
"You too," called out Hermione as she limped out into the hallway, moving as fast as she could.
It was more difficult than she had thought it would be to walk Danny home. She'd had to stop and rest several times. About half a block from her house, she finally gave in and, hiding behind a bush, threw up. Mind racing, Hermione had then all but rushed Danny home.
The faintness she had felt throughout the day had no doubt been because of blood loss. At least she hoped it was blood loss. Which mean she should drink lots of fluids, juice and milk in particular and eat a large lunch. Getting a blood transfusion was not an option.
Kakashi awoke to pain. It was certainly not the worst pain he had ever felt, however it was in the top ten most painful experienes. Still, he managed to stumble his way into the bathroom, where he kept his extensive first aid kit. After all, he often escaped the hospital in worse condition than this. Upon not finding his first aid kit where it should be, Kakashi stopped short.
And then he remembered. Konoha had been under attack from Pein and… he had died… sort of. He'd been speaking to his father when two of Otrera's descendants had blundered in. He knew the old stories, but that seemed completely unrealistic. Not the existence of Otrera herself, he'd seen more than enough in his life to believe her legend was probably partially true. But that Otrera had made a deal with the kami to… Surely that was impossible. Yet it did explain why he'd never heard of these Wizarding before.
He'd think on it more later, when he had the chance. The third place he looked revealed his first aid kit. It did not, he decided, contain enough supplies, something which would soon need to be rectified.
Eventually, Kakashi looked at his reflection in the mirror, only to feel the urge to punch something. The reflection before him was of himself in his early teens. But that was not what had bothered him. Rather, it was his eyes. One, dark and brown, the other blood red.
He was too late. Obito was already dead and chances were, Rin was as well.
