Hermione had finished her second cup by the time Albus had filled her in on everything she's done this timeline. The witch had appeared as a little girl in nineteen seventy-three. She grew up with the Marauders, going to school after the timeturner she used was broken. All of it checked out, Hermione just listened as he clued her into the tales of another life and the mentions of a journal with Tom Riddle's ghost.
That was when the conversation took a severe turn. Voldemort had disappeared in the early eighties after Dumbledore had found several other Horcruxes and lost in a duel to the wizened Headmaster. However, the plot thickened. There was a prophecy spoken close to that time that created speculation to the Order. A woman of time would reveal herself and in it, the final key to the Dark Lord's demise. If she were to perish before the eighty and one hundred days were spent, then all would fall to darkness, and he would reign. Two years before the fall of the millennium on the second night of May.
Hermione grimaced. Luck wasn't going to be an answer for this timeline. It was pretty apparent that the pieces of the puzzle were clearly mapped out in a devil's play fashion. "And now you expect it to be me?" She finally spoke.
"I know it to be you because the only four people alive to know of your traveling is your partners, me and you. I would hope that you didn't reveal your fated traveling to anyone else."
"So, I replaced her?" Hermione huffed and rubbed her face.
Dumbledore arched an eyebrow and tilted his head. "Well, no. She wasn't replaced, she is after all you. We have been preparing for something of a similar nature for years. That is why you have been working at Hogwarts and why we have examined the detailed volumes on time together. As she left for a routine use of the timeturner, you appeared, thus finishing the circle."
"I most certainly don't retain her memories," Hermione said flatly as her cheeks bloomed with color.
Albus smiled and tapped his cheek. "Curious, isn't it? You are wearing the ring she had on when she left. Her robes. Her demeanor. Everything is the same, but you lack her memories."
That was an acute observation. Something didn't ring true about the tale of two Hermiones. "Professor, did something happen to her?"
His curved expression dropped, and he pursed his lips before stroking his long beard. "Well, she was dying. She left in hopes that if time were kind, she would have an answer for us left behind."
Her own death. That was something unusual about this that erected the hairs on the back of Hermione's neck. If she chose to die during time travel, then possibly the spur of events to happen are what brought her here. Had all of her attempts prior been practices for the real thing? Ten years of trying and dying just to end up in a timeline that made sense for her appearance?
"And now the real battle begins?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, now it truly does. Whispers of his return from Albania are coming forth and with it, a vengeful tone. He will be searching for an answer to the prophecy overheard by one of his followers. The year has come for it to bear weight on the world."
Hermione bent forward and revealed her arm. "I hope that if we can solve this, I won't perish due to the time constraint. I have gone through many attempts to save the world in different ways. All random and interchangeable. However, the outcome is always my death."
Albus lifted her arm and grimaced. "I don't see anything," he admitted.
Hermione jerked her arm away and finally glanced at the unaltered flesh. This was indeed her last attempt. No redos and definitely no chances to save the world after. Had she grown almost belligerent and resentful of her choice? Possibly a little. However, she thought Death would be understanding. Apparently, he was ironic. Death gave her lives to fix this, only to have her dying self from this timeline take her place.
"Merlin, this is it," Hermione gasped as her finger traced the flawless skin on her arm.
"How many times have you attempted to fix this?" Albus asked.
"Nineteen," Hermione murmured and lifted her cup to her lips in thought.
"Six months each time?" Dumbledore responded with a scrunched brow.
Hermione just rocked her head and closed her eyes. "So many times, I've had to face my own death. I am tired," she admitted.
There was a rapping at the door, and Minerva squeezed inside followed by the marauder pair. "I tried to tell them you were to be undisturbed, but they were concerned," McGonagall stated with an apologetic frown.
"We are done for now. I believe you all have dinner to go to?" Dumbledore questioned the anxious wizards.
"What's going on?" Sirius grumbled with a pinched tightness to his features.
"Your wife is, well, not quite your wife," Dumbledore said with a shift in his posture.
Way to put a witch on the spot… Hermione glanced over at them as her eyes were squinted. "I, it's, I'm sorry," she sputtered.
Remus walked forward with a posture she had seen before- he was uncomfortable by the bluntness. "Explain more thoroughly?"
"How about we worry about the details later? I believe our Muggles Studies Professor needs a bit of time to catch up," McGonagall offered.
"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "I think that it's imperative that we bring to light what has happened," she clarified with a large exhale.
"Of course, right you are," Dumbledore responded and gestured to the witch. "This Hermione has been tasked with saving this timeline. Her expertise couldn't come at a better time. As you know, your wife was rather ill and time was a distressing conflict. She waited until the one hundred and eighty days before the prophecy's fulfillment to make her last attempt at changing the outcome. This witch has become the answer."
Sirius scowled as he paced next to Remus, setting his hand on the werewolf's shoulder. "You're telling me she died?"
Hermione glanced away, tears threatening to summon to her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she murmured.
Never in all the previous timelines did she have to feel such empathy for someone losing her. Not even in the moments of time when she found herself falling for a stolen kiss or a verbose promise that life would be better. In the reality of the situation, they didn't really lose her. They lost another person entirely. She was a false heroine — a lie of what was before.
A rough hand clasped her shoulder, causing the woman to glance up into the hues of promised spring in his eyes. "Don't be. We knew before she promised her life to us that it was destined to end. Time killed her slowly," Remus said.
The trail that skated down her reddened cheek was all that she could answer with as words didn't surmount to her guilt. They had lived, loved, and lost someone that she could sense made them feel complete- the one thing she always wished for the jester and scholar marauder. Nearly ten years of seeing them in one form or another had brought an understanding of who they were, and who they could become. Love was always an answer that neither of them could grasp in any of the timelines before, at least until now.
"I expect there to be a lovely amount of chocolate cake tonight?" Albus interrupted the tense moment.
He seemed amused by the reactions of the men to the strange witch. His fingers were knitted with ease as he observed the trio.
Hermione had wiped her face and pursed her lips. "Where are they going?"
"We are going to see Lily and Prongs," Sirius said.
"All of us," Remus stated. The werewolf squeezed her shoulder before pulling away.
She batted away the remaining tears with fluttering eyelashes as she turned her gaze to the male animagus in the room. "Won't that be a horrible idea?"
Remus ducked down to her level with an expression of focused curiosity. "You may not hold our past, but you are still here," he finished as his finger pointed toward her left breast.
"Tons of heart," Sirius piped up with a smirk.
Albus stood up and cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose we all must excuse ourselves to prior set engagements. I know this goes without stating, but I expect all of you to be selective on how you explain her memory loss," he declared.
"Of course," Remus answered.
"Headmaster," Minerva voiced before skirting from the room.
Hermione looked at the vacant spot that she stood at and exhaled. "I hope she isn't too upset."
"Why?" Sirius queried with a stifled smile.
"Not to worry, Hermione, she's just as stunned as the rest of us," Remus assured her and offered his hand. "Let's get you into some decent clothes for the trip. We're going to stay the weekend with the Potters."
Hermione gripped his fingers and gulped. She felt like she was about to take a test she wasn't at all prepared for. Hopefully, the vast amount of attempts before this one will give her some insight on what the task at hand was because there were no second chances. No twenty-first random timeline. This was it.
The journey to Godric's Hollow was a quiet adventure. Hermione felt somewhat out of place and removed from the two men that followed her in silence. Their communication was through glances and questioning eyebrow manipulation. The witch had hoped that maybe through time and a bit of investigating, that her former self had left notes, journals or even memories for the current to adjust and become knowledgable about this new life.
When they walked down the eerily familiar street, Hermione stopped a moment at the cemetery to relive a moment with her best friend. It had been a decade since she had been down this road, and with it came the extreme emotion of longing to have made better decisions then.
The Marauders didn't ask for an answer to her pause in their walk. They didn't even speak a word. Both decided to watch and observe this mimic of the witch they had known to the entirety of her being. This stranger was an echo of their greatest love and light. It was stretched plainly across their expressions as she gazed back at them before continuing to the corner.
The house, which was a scrap pile in her memory, was a lovely addition to the street, and her feet carried her straight up the path of the small garden and to the door. What a queer moment in time that she would see it in its use this year. "Did they have children?" Hermione asked quietly just before knocking.
"Mhm, Harry and Anabelle," Sirius whispered.
Harry… Hermione's heart pulled and yanked in a spasm of different directions.
The door opened at the crack of knuckles on wood, revealing an aged Lily Potter. "Hermione! Oh, my lovely, come in. I have the greatest book I want to show you!" Lily exclaimed and tugged the witch to her.
"Hold a bit on that, Lily. We should sit and have some tea. Is James still out?" Remus asked as they shuffled inside.
Lily glanced between them all with scrutiny before holding the witch in front of her. "Are you pregnant finally?" She said with an effort to maintain her questioning expression.
"Pregnant?" Hermione squeaked in utter surprise.
Sirius tucked his chin over Hermione's shoulder and sneered at the redheaded witch. "Not yet."
The werewolf elbowed the male animagus and groaned. "Don't worry about that, Hermione. Come on, let's go in the sitting room and we'll have a chat before James arrives."
Lily touched the other witch tenderly on the cheek. "You look so healthy, and your skin is absolutely glowing. Have the potions been treating you better?" She asked.
They were strolling through the house, but Hermione couldn't summon the words to speak as she took in the surroundings. Remus answered for her, some prattle, but Hermione hardly paid attention. Moving pictures of the Potters, the Marauders, and even her were splayed in the hallway. All out of order, but still a tender look into their lives. Hermione was just as crucial to the Potters as Remus and Sirius were.
She stopped, pulling from the redhead, and gazing at a tenderly cared for framed picture. It was her wedding day by the look of it, and Hermione stood between the two marauders she had come to love so dearly in other times. Her fingers skated across the lavished white dress, the beautiful bouquet, and finally her tired but happy expression. This was Hermione's life in this timeline, and she was deeply in love with the men she had grown up with- but it all seemed like someone else was telling her the story.
"That was a good day," Lily sighed.
Hermione pivoted to the marauders and frowned. "How did that happen?" She couldn't help the confusion and awe in her voice.
Sirius shrugged his shoulders, and Remus tugged at his collar. "You loved us," the werewolf answered.
"Loved? What's going on?" Lily's tone now held alarm.
"Let's have something a bit stronger than tea and explain," Sirius said with a nod.
Hermione dropped her eyes and released the tense breath from her chest. "Okay, Sirius."
"Don't worry, we're still here," Remus reminded her as his hand cupped her cheek.
"Really, what's going on?" Lily's voice now held a hint of fear.
"Come on, Lils, let's get to the heart of things," Sirius sighed before walking toward the redhead.
Remus tucked Hermione under his arm and squeezed her shoulder as they followed. The truth was something unclear, but brutally potent, no matter the choice. That was the only way the next six months could start. It was going to be a long afternoon.