Disclaimer: Still not mine.
A/N : As always, thanks to my beta and to you readers. I hope you will like it.
Chapter 4: Sixth year, October
Waking up lazily was not something I was used to anymore. As sunlight filtered through the curtains, I had to force myself into calmness. I stayed in bed, fully alert, my mind dancing with the possibilities, theoretical musings on time-travel, memories, and a deep sadness for I would never get to see my loved ones again. I finally managed to quiet this utter chaos and discipline my turbulent thoughts into a plan of action. The priority was getting into Hogwarts which meant mail to Headmaster Dumbledore. But first and foremost, I was famished.
I was received a few days later. After seeing Hogwarts defeated, brought to its knees, in tatters and ruins, going back was strange. How could I not superimpose my version of it to this unsullied one? It felt alien to me. This was not my Hogwarts, the school that witnessed my tears and my joys. That witnessed me grow up and assert myself. That witnessed me meet and bond with the best friends I will ever have or could ever hope for. That witnessed those I cared for die. This was not really my school and my heart wept for it and the loss of its purity— in my timeframe.
I suddenly felt very insignificant. Could I really do it? How foolish was I to think I could make a difference? I was nothing but a grain of sand on the beach, a drop of water in the ocean.
No. All my friends had died to protect our world and failed. I survived. I wouldn't fail them again. I would be the glitch that will even the odds. I would take my chances. There was nothing else I could do.
I'll admit meeting Professor Dumbledore was unnerving. When his clear blue eyes fixed on me, I seriously considered bolting through the door and out. Far, far away. But I stood my ground and concentrated on my parents. It wouldn't do for him to catch glimpses of my time, my world, my motivations, or my friends. No. No memory should be allowed to escape. I was quite sure he wouldn't Legilimens me, not without my permission. But with the passing years, I've come to believe he could unconsciously tap on the thoughts going through people's minds. I believe that's how he always seemed to know everything that went on in the school. There was no harm done in being careful and who better than myself to hide and bury my secrets in the deepest part of my mind? I fed him some made up story that I had fine-tuned with the help of Professor McGonagall about my parents living abroad, moving a lot and hiring private tutors on the way or my going on and off schools— never long enough to be remembered or formally registered. No way I could have be known by the British Ministry and thus enrolled into Hogwarts. I didn't mention they were both Muggle. It left much to be desired but it accounted both for my British accent and my absence. I'm still not quite sure he believed me, but he found no ground to call me out on it either. Or maybe he wasn't as distrustful yet and only saw a young, recently orphaned girl with a sad look in her eyes who had nowhere to turn to but the native country of her parents. In many ways—no, in all the ways-it was true. Maybe his heart was still soft enough to give me the benefice of the doubt. As of now, I still don't know his reasons, but I'm grateful he did. Whatever happened next.
He patiently explained the workings of the school and my mind supplied in the meantime the need to fake losing my way in the school for the first few days or to allow the castle to trick me. I should work on it. I had no wish to trip in the stairs or get into the wrong corridor and walk all the long way to my classes. Especially since I could walk this castle in my sleep. So I smiled to him and listened vaguely as he droned on the rules and places, on Houses and classes and Quidditch, on housemates and inter-House competition. He laughed lightly, mistaking my disinterest and daydream for a difficulty to process an excessive amount of information. He got up and reverently took the Sorting Hat from his position on a shelf. Did he wish to Sort me again? I felt like an eleven-year-old Muggleborn again. The Hat will see through me, there was no doubt about this. What if it ratted me out? Refused to Sort me? Or worse, claimed it already had? I must have looked downright terrified because Professor Dumbledore suddenly put a hand on my shoulder and softly offered reassuring words to me. When I turned my gaze on him, he smiled benevolently and put the Hat on my head.
It was lighter than I remembered. And my head must have grown bigger because it didn't fell on my eyes like it did the previous time. At first, the Hat was silent. It didn't even murmur. It just stayed there, like an oversized and ridiculous crown. Before it began talking with me, I wonder if it was a catch in its thinking or a gasp that I perceived. But there definitely was something. The Hat must have found my memory of it.
"You know me. And somehow, I've sorted you before," he began as an introduction, "but I'm sure I've never sat on your head until now."
What could I say? What could I do? What should I do or say? Should I offer the whole memory rather than the fragment it had stumbled upon? Should I attempt to explain? What to say? How much should I withhold? Before I could make my mind, the Hat spoke again.
"It's very unusual to Sort someone your age. About eighteen, isn't it? Odd, very odd that you're still attending school. But the Headmaster shall have the last say and in turn I shall Sort. But I will know your secrets, my girl, because there is nothing hidden in your head that I cannot see."
I clasped my hands in my lap, wondering if the Hat would sell me out. But it laughed slightly and put my doubts at rest. All the undisclosed information I possessed would be kept safe.
"Such loyalty." It began. "A rare trait that doesn't usually transcend death. But your heart and your head is full of it. Should I put you in Hufflepuff?"
I snorted slightly.
"Such bravery." It continued. "You are a true Gryffindor, aren't you? Did I Sort you there the last time? Ah, yes, I see now that I did. You do possess courage and daring in great amount. For you have set yourself on a difficult and adventurous path, trying to do the right thing and being all chivalrous. You would do well again there, I am sure."
I wondered fleetingly if I would feel comfortable there. My friends wouldn't be there and seeing Harry's parents all the time might be too much to bear. At least, there should be no Weasley at school so no one would remind me daily of Ron.
"Such knowledge." The Hat went on, unperturbed by my thoughts streaming into its consciousness. "What a wonderful addition to Ravenclaw you would make. Such a thirst for learning and dear love for books."
Ravenclaw was Luna's House. Could I really manage to decipher the riddles to be granted entrance into my own dormitory? I might do good there. I might not be ridiculed for my quirks or my working habits. Or maybe I would, I thought again as memories of Luna's shoes dangling in the hallways assaulted me.
"There's cunning too. And resolve. A strong will to prove yourself. Oh, Slytherin could help you reach your goal. You could be great there. And you'd be closer to your objective, wouldn't you?"
Slytherin. I hadn't even thought possible to be Sorted there. I was a Muggleborn. They would kill me in my sleep before they accepted me into their House. No, Slytherin would be dreadful, even if I would be closer to Severus Snape. Gryffindor would make it all the more difficult for me personally but I could try to befriend Lily there and sway her mind somehow concerning my Potions teacher. I might feel at ease in Ravenclaw but I knew I'd hate being in Hufflepuff. I waited for the Hat to determine where it shall Sort me. I assume it listened to my own opinions on the matter. I knew for a fact that it took Harry's into account. I shudder just imagining what would have happened should Harry be Sorted into Slytherin.
"You'll be a RAVENCLAW," it finally shouted for the Headmaster to hear.
He introduced me to the whole school on the next Monday, arguing they would need the following days to arrange everything. First, he decided to set up a scholarship. I had money of my own. I had transferred my Gringott account into Muggle money before going on the run with Harry and Ron. After their demise, I had gone back to the Muggle world and found some small employment there so that I never had to use my savings. I had withdrawn all my money from the bank and stashed it into my bottomless bag before time-travelling. And professor McGonagall gave me some money of her own. I wasn't rich, but I wasn't desperate either. However, if the Headmaster wanted to grant me some scholarship, I wasn't about to decline the offer. I was no Malfoy either. Then, I had to get school robes, the 6th year books, and the necessities for Potions. Setting up a Gringott account could also be a good idea. All in all, a few days was just what I needed to get ready.
I felt slightly nauseous as I stood in front of the Dining Hall of Hogwarts. Getting back was difficult as memories assaulted me relentlessly. Each and every corner reminded me of a special moment we had shared. And the prospect of standing before the whole school wasn't particularly enticing either.
Then the Headmaster introduced me as Hermione Barnett, a transfer student. He calmly explained I came back recently due to family business, and he wished for all of them to help me should I need it. I stood my ground, held my chin high and clasped my hands behind my back. I had faced full-grown Death-Eaters, I wasn't going to be intimidated by students. But my stomach churned and I refused to meet anyone's eyes. Could I do it? Doubt crept in and tears threatened as once again I was faced with the enormity of my endeavour. I saw the ghost of my child self, sitting on the stool, before the gathering of students for my Sorting. I saw Ron and Harry bickering at the Gryffindor table. I saw Malfoy at the Slytherin table as he sneered and pointed at us. I saw the bodies of those I loved lying on the cold ground. I heard the Weasley family crying. I pointedly looked ahead and fisted my hands until they hurt. Finally, I was applauded by the Ravenclaw table and the familiar sound brought me back to my current predicament. I gathered my wits and my courage and joined those who were smiling encouragingly at me. A new adventure was beginning. If only Harry and Ron were there to share it.
A/N : Now, what about a review? Virtual cookies and endless gratitude in return...
