Hello, and my biggest apologies! It's been far too long a gap between chapters and I feel terrible, but this is a lovely long one to make up for it - I have actually had this written for a little while, but a volatile internet connection mixed with the crazyness of Christmas mean slow updating :P Excuses aside, I really hope you enjoy this, and feedback would be so so much appreciated. Happy new year!
Donna xx
Chapter Two - I Can Imagine
In the long term, or even in the slightly longer term than the immediate, Hermione had absolutely no idea what she was going to do. But in regards to right away, she knew that first and foremost, she needed to get out of sight - that was obvious. And so, her feet leading her automatically, she hurriedly pushed through the disgruntled and suddenly solid students surrounding her, and darted into a small alcove concealed by a tapestry.
Oh god, what had she done? Defying Harry like that, when he had so much experience of visiting memories and she none at all. What had she been thinking, assuming because she'd read about something that she was the expert? This wasn't the first time she'd let the know-it-all within get the better of her, and Hermione knew that. What she had to figure out now was what to do.
Think, Granger. Think, think, think.
1978. So she'd traveled back exactly twenty years... What had Hogwarts been like twenty years ago? She mentally brought the 1970-80 chapter of Hogwarts: A History to the forefront of her brain, scanning for any information she could remember. 1978... Members of staff, 40. Total number of students, 1039. House cup winners, Ravenclaw. Quidditch cup winners, Gryffindor. Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.
Dumbledore. That was it! It was as though her brain woke up as the thought entered her head, things starting to fall into place rather than the sickly, slightly faint feeling she had been experiencing.
Hermione no longer paid any notice to the odd looks she was receiving as she darted out from behind the tapestry and through the corridors, her feet pounding out the familiar route automatically, only one thought on her mind: She had to find Dumbledore.
After what felt like far too long, she skidded to a stop in front of the gargoyle guarding his office, only registering once she was there, the statue shooting her a dirty look, that a password was required for entrance.
"Um..." Hermione wracked her brain desperately, "I don't know... Chocolate frogs? Crystallised pineapple? Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans? Fizzing Whizzbees? Oh, for goodness' sake!" She exploded, aiming a fierce kick at the smug looking statue in frustration, and only succeeding in sending a violent pain through her foot.
"I would ask, my dear, that you cease with the violence toward my guarding gargoyle, he is merely doing his job." Came the gentle voice she knew so well, and Hermione spun around, relief flooding through her as she saw Albus Dumbledore approaching, a mildly interested smile on his face. "However, I am very much intrigued as to what urgent situation required you try to visit me with such desperation? And in your nightclothes, might I add."
"Professor!" She gasped, "Oh, I'm so glad to see you..."
"So, you're telling me you've heard of a situation like this before?" Hermione asked, feeling somewhat calmer as she sat opposite Dumbledore at his desk, having just explained her whole story to him.
"Oh, yes, many a time." He replied calmly, and Hermione wondered if he was even capable of getting flustered, "Memories are tricky entities, Miss, um..."
"Granger."
"Granger. Do forgive me, my dear. It's not too common a name among our kind, now is it? As I was saying, memories are fragile, Miss Granger, and I would warn anyone who was considering exploring them of the... dangers associated with them."
"Yes, sir. That's what Harry said, you'd warned him hundreds of times but me, being stupid, well, I..." But it wasn't the excuse for her stupidity Dumbledore seemed intrigued by, as he lowered his half-moon glasses slightly.
"Harry...?"
"Yes, my friend, sir. Harry Potter."
"Potter? Now that is interesting. Any relation to the, ah... Ragamuffin, shall I say, currently in year seven?" His eyes twinkled, and despite herself, Hermione smiled - oh, how she had missed the headmaster's strange way with words. But when she started to answer him, she bit her lip. She was in completely uncharted waters here - how much could she tell him? Should she even have mentioned Harry at all? Oh, goodness, she had no idea how this worked.
"Um..." She tried, "I don't really know who you mean. If there's someone here called Potter then I suppose they could be related, but I'm not sure."
"Indeed." Dumbledore said, somewhat knowingly, "Well, Miss Granger, I expect you'll be pleased to know that I can be of some help to you. A pensieve is a very powerful device, with transportation abilities quite unlike any other object."
"So..." She allowed her hope to rise for a moment, "You can get the pensieve to send me back?"
"Yes." He said, and her heart soared despite his slight hesitancy, "But not immediately, I'm afraid. It will take some time for me to alter it, and find exactly the right place for you to return to, but yes. It can be done."
"Professor..." Hermione began worriedly, "I really can't thank you enough, but... But when you say a while...?"
"Oh, around six weeks or so." He said airily, and her eyes widened, "It could be slightly less, or slightly longer, but it will be in that vicinity. In the meantime, I'm sure you can fit in here for a little while. Once you're out of your nightclothes, you'll blend in perfectly with the other, ah...?"
"Seventh years." She informed him in a whisper, her head spinning. She was going to have to stay here for six weeks? She hadn't anticipated that at all. What was she going to do? What would the current students say? Would Harry be alright, having traveled back alone? Could she contact him? Her mind was filled with hundreds of questions, but as Dumbledore stood to usher her towards the door, she somehow didn't think she'd find answers to even half of them.
Hermione also became aware that he had been talking to her, and she, in a daze, hadn't taken in a word. Luckily, the headmaster didn't seem to have noticed, and she quickly tuned him back in as they reached the door to his office.
"...Pomfrey; she'll be able to get you some robes with no problem, and then you can go down to the hall in time for lunch. Will that be alright?"
"Um... Yes." Hermione agreed, sure that she had at least caught the gist of what he was saying, "And... Thank you, Professor. I really don't know what I would have done without you."
"Oh, it's quite alright, my dear." He said kindly, that slightly mischievous look that was oh-so-Dumbledore back on his face, "And you never know. You might just find that you learn a thing or two while you're here. Don't hesitate to come and see me, Miss Granger!"
And before she knew it, he had closed the door behind her, leaving Hermione with no option but to set off for Madame Pomfrey. She was still a little dazed, and not looking forward to her attempt to explain why, as a new student, she had arrived with no equipment ad no clothes but a pair of pyjama bottoms, a vest and a muggle cardigan.
But, to her surprise, once she had improvised her visit to the hospital wing and was back in a clean set of Gryffindor robes, Hermione couldn't help but feel refreshed, and overall much more positive about her situation - surely she could last for six short weeks here? It wouldn't be so bad; almost like the most intensive History project ever. To be able to experience firsthand the reality of school life twenty years in the past, to note the differences in the way the lessons were-
"Ow!" An almost barking cry cut into Hermione's thoughts, as she realised she had been so caught up in her wonderings that she hadn't looked where she was going in the slightest, and as a result had walked slap-bang into a boy as he exited a classroom on her right, "Steady on!"
"I'm so, sorry, really, I..." But Hermione's insistent apologies faded as she looked up into the boy's face, and was filled with recognition. Recognition, as well as overwhelming joy, sadness, and a few hundred other emotions that she could barely keep track of, given that she had thought she'd never see this person again.
He looked her up and down, for now ignoring the amazed look on her face, "A bollocking off Flitwick, and then being practically rugby tackled in the corridor, not what I- Ooft!"
The boy was cut off, likely winded by the force with which Hermione had just thrown he arms around him.
"Sirius!" She exclaimed, only realising once she'd done it how inappropriate it was to be hugging this boy who had never met her before... God, she really needed to start working on her understanding of the phrase 'think before you act'.
"Er..." He looked, unsurprisingly, a little confused and a lot alarmed, and Hermione couldn't blame him.
"I'm sorry." She hastily pulled away, blushing, "I didn't mean to, er... Thought you were..." She could barely form a coherent sentence, so overwhelmed was she to see him again and so mortified at the instinctive way in which she'd reacted.
"It's ok." He said, still looking a little put out, but with the tiniest of smirks making its way onto his face as he surveyed her, "Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. If only every girl greeted you like that, eh? Although," Alright, Hermione thought, now he was definitely smirking, "As it's me, most girls do."
She had to try her hardest not to laugh at his cockiness - now she could see how true the stories really were about him as a teenager. And Hermione, who knew the genuine, reliable man he would grow up to be, didn't fall for it in the slightest. But this was a start, she thought - at least she knew one person out of a thousand, and wouldn't be completely alone.
"Alright." She rolled her eyes, "My apologies for what happened when I saw you, and make no mistake in realising that it meant nothing. Secondly, I'm..." She figured she might as well play the part, "I'm new here, so I'd greatly appreciate someone showing me the way to the Great Hall.".
He agreed, but nevertheless the smirk didn't leave his face as he began to lead her along the corridor. Hermione barely took in her surroundings as they went - she had been in Hogwarts for as long as she remembered, but Sirius himself was a sight she wasn't used to seeing, and one that she hadn't realised she missed so much. Despite obviously looking younger, the kind eyes were still there, the casual half-strut as he walked. The air of authority he carried without even trying... She tried to remember the last time she'd spoken to him, and was horrified to realise that she couldn't. It must have been one of their mass goodbyes as she and the others left Grimmauld Place after the holidays... Or perhaps in the Gryffindor fireplace? Was that before or after-? Oh, it was all too much.
"Hello? Anybody home?"
"Yeah." Hermione snapped out of her reverie, "Sorry. I was just-"
"Just busy staring at me?" He raised an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes. This really wasn't the Sirius she had known.
"No, actually. I was busy listening to what you had to say. Some people actually look at each other when they're having a conversation."
"Alright!" He held up his hands, "Steady! It just seems like if you'd been listening you'd have answered my question. I said how come you're only joining this year; you're not foreign."
"No. Well." Hermione wracked her brains, whilst trying to keep her cool. Could she have transferred...? No, at this time there were no other wizarding schools in Britain. "I was, um, always home educated up until now. See, my um, dad's a wizard but my mum's a muggle, and she was quite skeptical about the whole idea when I turned eleven, wasn't sure she wanted me learning magic." What a bizarre, but somehow plausible story to come up with on the spur of the moment, she thought as they reached the bottom of the marble staircase and made their way across to the hall.
"So I didn't come to Hogwarts right away, but the compromise was that my father would teach me magic, just so my mum could be-"
"Moony!" Sirius cut her off, yelling at someone just about to head into the Great Hall, "Wait for us!"
Initially, Hermione was too busy being indignant about Sirius not really listening to her hastily thought up but well-crafted story to realise who he was talking to. However, as the figure ahead of them looked over his shoulder and slowed down so they could catch up, her eyes widened. Remus.
She has prepared herself to see the other people of this era and not react in the same instinctive way she had when she'd seen Sirius, but as she took in his face, looking mildly interested to see Sirius with someone new, Hermione's eyes filled with tears. However much she had loved and admired Sirius back in the present, Remus Lupin had meant an incomparable amount to her. An inspiration, from the first lesson he'd taught them; something like a father figure as she'd struggled to come to terms with the seriousness of the Order; someone who'd helped her be there for Harry. Of everyone who died fighting the cause, his death had been the most life-shattering for her; the one she'd missed the most.
And here he was, seventeen years old, standing in front of her and looking (understandably) a little concerned.
"Hi, Padfoot." he said as they approached, smiling before turning to her, "And who's th... God, are you alright?"
"I'm..." Hermione barely whispered, choosing instead to nod as she tried to stop herself from bursting into tears. Sirius, who seemed to have appointed himself in charge of her, rolled his eyes and absent-mindedly patted her shoulder.
"Newbie." He informed his friend as they made their way into the hall, "And she acted like this when she met me, too. Maybe she's just a bit overexcited by new people. Remus Lupin, meet... hang on, what was your name?"
Hermione, who had subtly wiped away the tear that had escaped, was a little put-out by his assuming to know her so well already - but then again, this was Sirius Black.
"Hermione." She said instinctively, not even stopping to wonder whether she should give a false name, "Hermione Gr... anger." She had trailed off for a moment as they had reached a spot halfway down the Gryffindor table. While Remus had calmly sat down on the side they were stood next to, Sirius had shot a cautionary look up at the staff table before hopping up onto the bench and deftly jumping across to the other side, so he could sit opposite Lupin and beside a black-haired boy whom Hermione recognised.
She hovered for a few seconds, wondering whether this was a dismissal and she ought to find somewhere else to sit, but then Sirius, already heaping chicken pie onto his plate, glanced up.
"Are you sitting down then or what, love?" Hermione blinked.
"Manners, now, Padfoot." The boy next to him said casually, without raising his head from the essay he was reading, and Hermione surveyed him as she took the seat next to Remus. She was sitting opposite the boy who she knew to be Harry's father, and felt a whole new kind of sadness to before.
When she'd seen Sirius and Remus, she'd felt a pang of loss for what they'd brought to her life, for how much they were missed. But here, looking at him, this was different. This was a man who she'd never known, but who she should have. If everything was right with the world, he'd have been as big a part of her life as his friends, and an even bigger part of his son's. He'd had it snatched away before he'd even begun, and this, to Hermione, was the most tragic thing of all - while she and Harry had thousands of memories of a laughing, loving, alive Remus and Sirius, they did not have one single memory of James.
Finally, he looked up from his paper, and as Hermione properly saw his face for the first time she felt almost nauseous. At a glance, she could so, so easily be looking into the face of Harry, down to the very last detail.
"Oh," He said pleasantly, a little surprised, "You're not Peter!" Even his voice sounded like his son's.
Hermione couldn't help but laugh a little, "No, I'm not! Is that a problem, or...?"
"Oh no, you're much more preferable." James grinned, and she almost - almost - found herself blushing, "If a little unexpected. I'm James, by the way."
"Hermione." She said with a smile, and they somewhat mock-formally shook hands over the table.
"So, Hermione, are you-?"
"Thee wa' 'ome 'thooled." Said Sirius through a mouthful of food, in answer to James' unasked question. Hermione was reminded forcefully of Ron, both because of how well he knew his best friend to the extent of predicting his question, and because of his appalling table manners. She shuddered a little.
"Home-schooled?" Remus, at least, had been able to understand his friend, and Hermione nodded a little unsurely - it looked like this was now the story she'd have to stick with. And so, she launched into the story she'd began to give Sirius, with added embellishments here and there, and given her usual tendency to crack under scrutiny, she was quite proud of it.
"So other than your dad, do you not know any other witches or wizards?" James asked interestedly, and Hermione answered before she could stop to think.
"Oh, no, I've got my friend Harry." She blurted, looking anywhere but at James, "And my, erm..." She was loathed to say it, but it did seem unfair to mention Harry and not him, "My boyfriend. And his sister. And his brothers, and his mum and dad... I know quite a few magical people, actually."
"Oh," James looked genuinely interested, "And did he mind you coming here, or...? I can imagine it must be hard being away from him."
"I suppose it will be," Hermione said a little unwillingly, "But I'm not going to be here for very long, so-"
"Why, where're you going?" Sirius wasted no time in cutting her off, his fork halfway to his mouth, and she froze. She hadn't meant to say that.
"I, um, well, I don't think I'm going to stay at the school very long." She said slowly, wracking her brains for a reason, "Because... Because, well, I'm only here on a sort of... trial period." I suppose that'll have to do, Hermione thought, a little disappointed in her own imagination, "To get, you know, a flavour of school life. I mean," She reassured the three boys, who all looked a little confused, "I'll be attending lessons as usual while I'm here, but I won't be sitting my exams. It'll likely be about six weeks, I should think."
"Blimey," said James, "That'll not be a lot of time to get your head around lessons; do you think you'll manage alright?"
Hermione, thinking a little smugly of her predicted grades for the coming summer (all 'Outstanding's, naturally), smiled. "Oh, I expect I'll manage. The work isn't much different from what I've been doing at home, so..."
"Well, if you need any help."James smiled, and Hermione admired his kindness, even if she was positive she wouldn't need it.
"Thanks. That's much appreciated." Oh, how she'd surprise them in her first lesson of the year, she thought excitedly as James continued, "In fact, you can have a look at my latest Transfiguration essay, if you like. I've just had it marked."
"Oh, put it away, James, you smug git." Sirius snorted.
"Oi! I'm not being smug, I'm just-"
"Ah, give it a rest, you never stop bragging."
"Bragging? You're one to talk, Padfoot, what was it you got in your latest Charms test?"
"That's beside the point, I don't go telling the whole school about it..."
But Hermione barely heard a word, so astounded was she to have looked down at the essay in question to see a large, proud 'O' in the top right hand corner, followed by a tirade of praise from Professor McGonagall in the teachers' comment. Her mind was whirring with disbelief as she skimmed the fantastically written essay - Despite his resemblance in so many ways, perhaps James wasn't very much like Harry at all...
But then she looked up to see that his focus had shifted from her entirely, as James craned his neck to not-so-subtly keep his eye on Lily Evans, who had just sat down with a group of friends a little further down the table. Then again, Hermione thought as she rolled her eyes and took in the scene: three friends, one shoveling down food, one with their head in a book, the other with messy black hair and glasses, who was shamelessly mooning over the popular redhead.
Some things never changed.