Disclaimer: still don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters or settings.
Chapter 2
November 4, 1944
I felt a throbbing pain in my head as things slowly began to slide back into focus. I couldn't quite remember what had happened, though I vaguely recalled a thunderstorm, and a lot of pain. I tried to force my heavy eyelids to open, but it was a trial they didn't seem to have the effort to even attempt. However, I had never, ever backed down from a challenge, and I surely wasn't now either. So, after a few minutes of struggling, my eyes finally managed to open. Light shone bright into them, making me groan. I heard some people talking somewhere in the background, but I couldn't quite get my voice to speak. My throat hurt.
Slowly, however, things began to come into focus, and the voices became clearer. Two men and a woman. The woman's voice was stern, used to be in charge, yet was soft at the same time, as if always caring with delicate people. One of the men's voices was low and anxious, unsure almost. The last one was an average tone, thoughtful and yet serious at the same time. I groaned again and the voices stopped, and then the sound of heels and two pairs of dress shoes came towards me. I blinked into the light and moved my head slightly, relieved to actually have that ability back.
"I think she's waking up…" the woman's voice said. Some sort of cloth mopped at my head, either wetting my forehead or drying it, I wasn't sure. I did know it was wet at least.
Finally I managed to open my eyes completely and take in everything, fully conscious and awake. I saw three people, one woman with honey blond hair pulled up leaning over me, tending me, and then two men standing at the foot of my bed. Taking in everything else for a moment I realized I was in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts. However, I didn't know any of the people around me. I'd never seen them in my entire life.
"Wha…" I gasped out, my throat protesting instantly, sending a fiery pain shooting through it.
"Drink this dear, it will help the pain." The woman said, handing me a glass of potion.
I took the glass with both hands, not having quite enough energy to hold it with only one, and brought it to my mouth, drinking it with one gulp, knowing it would be vile and not wanting to prolong the awful taste.
"Well young lady, its nice to see you finally awake." One of the men said. He had gray hair, the top of his head bald with a few longer hairs combed over the spot, as if trying to hide it. He was somewhat large, and his robes were a bright green color. It was so bright I had difficulty looking at him, especially with my still adjusting eyes.
"What happened…?" I asked, my voice hoarse as I weakly handed my glass back to the woman who I by now had realized was the matron. "Where is Madame Pomfrey?" I felt almost worried. She was never sick after all, so why was she gone?
"Madame Pomfrey? I'm sorry, but I don't recall that name." the large, bright-robed man said, holding his hands out in apology.
"Don't…" I trailed off, confused.
"And as for what happened… well, we'd like to know that ourselves. Some students went to the Quidditch pitch to practice yesterday afternoon and found you unconscious, bloody and on the brink of death. You must have been there the full night and morning. And there are no records of your enrollment here…"
My eyes widened, startled, "No records? I've been a student here for over five years. This is my 7th year." What the bloody hell was going on?
"I've been teaching here for some time now, miss, and I must say I've never seen you in any of my classes." The other man said. I studied him, taking in his long auburn hair and beard, his twinkling blue eyes, and his purple robes. He look familiar from somewhere… and then things clicked into place.
"Oh Merlin…" I groaned, my head falling back onto the pillow and my eyes shutting. "No, no, no, no, no…" I muttered to myself, over and over. It couldn't be him. He'd died almost ten years before I was born, and that had been when he was old. This guy wasn't even graying yet! It couldn't be possible. And yet, there he was, Albus Dumbledore in the flesh. Young. Still teaching. Which could only mean that the other man was Headmaster Dippet. I'd read about him in a few books, seen his picture in Headmaster McGonagall's office. But of course that was impossible, because if it really was him that would mean…
"What year is it?"
The adults were silent, and I could only assume they were glancing at one another in confusion. "1944." The woman answered hesitantly.
"What day?"
"November 4th."
It had been October 31st when I'd been struck by the lightning, which now that I thought back must not have been lightning at all. Or, at least not you're everyday lightning. It had to have been some sort of spell. There was no other explanation.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir? Can I talk to you alone, please?" I asked, my voice a low whisper as my mind mulled over all that I'd learned.
After a bit of discussing on their part—all of which I was in too much shock to listen to—they finally allowed me to be alone with Dumbledore. The matron went to her office while Dippet went to his to do a bit of paper work.
"Now my dear girl, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Dumbledore asked, sitting on the bed to my left. I looked at him, my eyes obviously showing my distress. "Let's start with a name, shall we?"
"Rose Weasley." I answered, biting my lip, knowing he'd recognize the name. After all, all Weasley's attended Hogwarts to my knowledge, and he had been teaching for many years. He would have come across a Weasley at least once, though it was more likely he'd met a fair few. There were so many of us after all.
"I'm sorry Miss Weasley, but I know all the Weasley's, and I have never met, nor seen you." he answered, his voice apologetic.
"Well, I've never actually met you either, though I grew up learning about you." I answered, which earned me a raised brow.
"Is that so?"
I nodded, "I'm going to tell you something, but before I do I just want you to know I'm not crazy."
He nodded, "Of course. Please, continue."
"Okay… I don't know how it happened—well, actually, I have an idea, but it's not foolproof, just an assumption—but anyways, I somehow was transported here from October 31, 2022." Merlin, it sounded crazier aloud than it did in my head. I hurried on, "You see, I was out in this awful storm, out in the Quidditch pitch, while everyone else was inside at the feast. While out there I saw this weird lightning, and the clouds were glowing with all sorts of colors, and then the lightning struck me and I woke up here."
Throughout my explanation I couldn't read Dumbledore's expression. I wasn't even sure what to look for, knowing nothing of the man. Hell, I was going purely off of my parents' teenage views of him, in the time that they knew him. He could be an entirely different person now!
"That is quite a story." He remarked.
"I can prove it! You're half-blood, your mother having been a muggle-born. You have a scar shaped like the London Underground just above your knee, you were head boy in your seventh year, you excelled in Transfigurations, and you have a Phoenix… well, I'm not sure if you have him yet, but you have one eventually if not yet. You…"
"That's quite enough Miss Weasley. I believe you." he said calmly, holding up his hands to signal my silence. I instantly snapped my mouth shut and looked down. "Let's keep your knowledge of the future to a minimum, shall we? It could be very dangerous for you if people other than me were to learn." I nodded in agreement.
"That's why I asked for only you. I've never actually met you, but you were close to my parents and uncle when they were students, and from what they told me you seemed like the only person I could trust."
"They must have known me very well to tell you so much." He mused.
"Well, they told me some of it, but I also learned a bit from books too…"
"I'm in books?" his brows raised in what I assumed must have been amusement, his eyes twinkling slightly.
I nodded, "Yeah, though I can't really be sure what is all true… but I probably shouldn't be telling you all this. I'll shut up now."
"How do you plan to find your way back to the future?"
I bit my lip, "Well… that's why I wanted to talk to you. If I knew how I wouldn't have even told you, but… I didn't even mean to come here in the first place. I don't even know how it happened. So… I haven't a clue as to how I'll get back."
"I'm sorry, Miss Weasley, but I've never heard of anything like this. It will take much research on both our parts to find an answer." He said gravely.
Ducking my head I sighed sullenly, "So I'm stuck here then."
Dumbledore looked at me gravely, "I'm afraid so."
My find flashed over everything that had happened to me over the last few months. My father dying, separating myself from everyone I loved, and now getting sent to the past. I hadn't even been able to tell my mother and Hugo goodbye. I struggled to gulp, fighting back my tears. The last time I let myself cry I had gotten into a worse mess than I'd been in to begin with. I wouldn't let that happen again.
"What am I to do now?"
"Well, I suppose we'll just have to give you a new name and enroll you into Hogwarts to finish your education and try and find a way to get you home." The older man said logically.
"New name?" my mind was so jumbled and confused I was hardly comprehending what the deputy headmaster was saying.
"Yes, Weasley is too well known of a name, and in this time you are obviously not a Weasley. You'll have to have a new surname."
I thought for a few seconds, "Granger." I decided, "It's a muggle name, so it's unlikely anyone will recognize me with it."
He nodded, "Now, you'll need a back-story. Other than for the few who found you in the Quidditch field your appearance is a compete secret. So naturally, everyone knows." He chuckled slightly, trying to add a bit of spirit to the mood.
"Well, it's logical to say that since I have a muggle name I should have some muggle heritage." I said sensibly, trying to get my mind off of the fact that I was trapped and on something useful. "So we could say my father was a muggle or muggleborn at least."
"What about your mother?"
"Hmm, well, it would be more likely for me to have magical blood if one of my parents were a witch or wizard, so my mother would have been half-blood, while my father a muggle. How's that for blood status?"
Dumbledore nodded in agreement, "Very good. Now, how did you end up in the middle of the Quidditch pitch half alive?"
I thought for a few minutes, in which time the room was completely silent. "I was attacked my centaurs." I finally said.
The professor raised his eyebrows, "That's very creative."
"I was running away from home and wound up in the forbidden forest. There I met up with a bunch of centaurs that attacked me. I only just got away, and I stumbled across the Quidditch pitch and passed out there."
"And why did you run away from home?"
"Personal reasons that I would prefer not to speak of." I answered easily.
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, "Hmm, it's so absurdly creative it could pass as truthful."
I smiled slightly, "Exactly."
"So then, now for your classes. What year and house are you in?"
"I'm in my 7th year, and I was Head Girl, and I'm a Ravenclaw."
"And what classes are you taking?"
"Advanced Potions, Advanced DADA, Advanced Ancient Runes, Advanced Arithmancy, Advanced Astronomy, Advanced Charms, Advanced History of Magic, Advanced Muggle Studies, and Advanced Transfiguration." I said, naming them off on my fingers.
Dumbledore again raised his brows, his eyes twinkling, "Quite the busy schedule."
I shifted uncomfortably, "Yes, well, I like to challenge myself."
He smiled softly, "Well why don't you rest and I'll have everything arranged with the headmaster. You must be exhausted after being attacked by centaurs." His eyes twinkled and I gave the smallest of smiles in acknowledgement to his joke. He nodded and turned, leaving the room so I could get some rest. I hadn't been attacked my centaurs, but I had been pulled through time, which hurt a lot more than you might think. And being shocked by lightning wasn't a picnic either.
I fell asleep minutes later with my mind blank, too exhausted to think about anything, even the peculiar situation I was in.