Disclaimer: Yeah. Y'know the drill.
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Ch.2: First Encounter
The first thing Hermione realized when she woke up was that she had a pounding headache.
Her eyes slowly cracked open to see puffy clouds drifting lazily across a clear, sunlit sky.
Where in Merlin's name am I?
She slowly sat up, one hand tightly grasping her wand, the other clutching her reassuringly familiar beaded handbag hidden beneath her robes.
In the distance, a mysterious figure approached. Hermione shaded her eyes with a hand, the bright sunlight obstructing her vision.
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Hermione smiled.
As the figure drew closer, she felt her worry practically melt away as she saw the familiar head of dark hair. Harry surely, would explain what was going on, why she was lying on a field in the middle of nowhere…
He must have come back for me just as I was facing Umbridge and her lackeys…
Now, if her accursed headache just went away, she would be awfully pleased that she wasn't currently being tortured by Umbridge's Interrogation Squad from the depths of hell.
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Her heart plummeted from relief to disappointment—an understatement of the year. She gulped slightly, her hand unconsciously curling around the wand in her pocket.
She almost started hyperventilating when the said mystery figure drew close enough for her to see the features of his face.
The guy was definitely not Harry. But why, why then did he look so familiar?
Hermione was jolted out of her musings when he began to speak, lips curled in a condescending expression.
"You, there. Students aren't allowed off-grounds nowadays. I'm afraid I have to report you to the Headmaster."
He then wheeled round and began walking briskly, with the expectant air that she would follow. Seeing as she had few options, Hermione hurriedly stood up, brushed off her robes, and trailed a few feet behind him. Judging from his robes, the teen was a Hogwarts student, a 6th or 7th year with a shiny Head Boy badge pinned to his front.
But how did she end up from being trapped in the Department of Mysteries to napping outside Hogwarts grounds? Well hopefully, as soon as she reached Hogwarts, she would discover some answers.
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They maintained an unbroken silence as he lead her through the heavy wooden doors of the castle, up twisting staircases, down hallways guarded by suits of armor and talking portraits, until he paused in front of the familiar stone gargoyle.
The boy strangely seemed to glance at it with visible dislike, and grudgingly muttered, "Butterbeer."
Hermione frowned slightly at the sudden thought that the new headmaster of Hogwarts might be a Ministry-controlled wizard who would be too happy to hand her over to Umbridge, but at that point, it was too late for her to make an escape. They went up one last set of stairs and into the office.
Hermione saw the dark-haired Head Boy hurry to a frail looking wizard's side; his head inclined respectfully, and he began conversing in a low voice. On top of the desk was a polished gold nameplate—Headmaster Armando Dippet.
And to the right of the desk—her eyes widened with incredulity—was Dumbledore, with the same twinkly blue eyes and moon-shaped spectacles, which was impossible because Dumbledore was dead.
Right?
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She blinked several times, and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Perhaps it was just a ghost--or maybe a portrait. But aside from the auburn beard and lack of wrinkles, the wizard in the deep violet robes was definitely Dumbledore. Before she had time to figure out this puzzle, another voice pulled her back to her present situation.
"Now miss, our Head Boy Tom Riddle has just informed me that you were found sleeping off school grounds even though it is strictly forbidden. Would you mind telling me your reason for this transgression of school rules?"
The elderly wizard's voice was as crackly and dry as autumn leaves. The question only deepened her confusion, as well as her headache. As a result, she blurted out the first thought that sprouted in her mind.
"I was tired sir."
She heard a quiet chuckle from the younger-looking, not-dead Dumbledore on Dippet's right.
"Perhaps I should clarify my question. Why are you on Hogwarts grounds?"
The headmaster stared at her sternly over his desk. Hermione mentally listed possible responses and settled on the safest one.
"I'm here to enroll at Hogwarts, sir."
At her words, the Head Boy seemed to jerk out of his bored stupor, and studied her with slightly more interest.
Headmaster Dippet nodded understandingly.
"I see. Well records must be updated. School rules you know. Accio parchment!"
Dippet dipped a large pheasant quill into an ink bottle and scratched on the parchment, muttering the words as he wrote.
"September 4, 1944. Enrollment of new Hogwarts student."
He looked up expectantly.
"Your name, miss?"
"Hermione Granger." Her mouth seemed to be operating on autopilot.
A glint from the corner of her eye distracted her, and her sight landed on the Head Boy badge, engraved with the name 'Tom Riddle'.
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Something clicked in her mind.
Headmaster Dippet. 1944. Tom Riddle. The insistent pounding increased against her temples and she gripped the edge of the desk with one hand as she swayed ever-so-slightly from shock.
It hit her. She was stuck in 1944 with a young Lord Voldemort and no way to get back to her own time.
This was not good. Not good at all. In fact, it would be insufficient to state that this was a very, very bad situation.
The headmaster glanced up from his parchment with concern.
"Are you all right, miss?"
The colors of the room dissolved into a blur as the pounding in her head grew even stronger, blocking out all other sensations except for pain.
The last thing she saw was the stone floor rushing up to meet her.
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A/N: Just to reassure you guys, this story will get somewhere. I have the point B in mind, the problem is just moving from point A.