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A/N: Sorry for the transition chapter and the ridiculously long wait. Chapter five should be up in a more timely manner, and it'll definitely have some Tom/Hermione action. Again, thanks to all of our reviewers, namely, snarkybookworm, emailia, amrawo, and mizzlanfear for the comments on chapter three. We're glad you like it so far.
Things Remembered
Hermione couldn't keep her balance any longer, nor could she hear herself scream over the howling of the wind as she was pulled through. The last thing she felt was glass tearing against her skin, before everything went black.
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She sat on the ground for a moment, still shocked about Neville's death, while the battle raged on. Suddenly disoriented, she picked herself up and looked wildly around for Harry. He was not too far away, engaged in a fierce fight with Voldemort, and although he was an experienced dueler, he was clearly having a difficult time. If Hermione could only reach them, perhaps she could catch Voldemort off guard and hit him with a spell from behind… then maybe Harry could gain the upper hand.
She ran forward, pulled her wand out and pointed it straight at Voldemort's back. At the same time, he turned around and disarmed them both. While Harry went to retrieve his wand, Voldemort advanced on Hermione, grinning maliciously. Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, frozen by fear. She could see the hatred etched all over his face as he drew his wand for the last time. Hermione braced herself, awaiting death, when all of a sudden the two made eye contact. She could see his blazing eyes burning in hatred, and then going cold. They widened in shock… or was it fear? He hesitated for a moment, and then turned his attention back on his wand. Now Hermione's eyes widened in shock as she saw the beam of green light bypass her and hit Ginny. Hermione gasped in horror as she watched her friend fall.
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She woke up confused…what had happened? There had been glass, and wind… lots of wind. She saw Ron's angry face. He had been yelling at her for something, but what was it? And had that happened before the accident, or after? Yes, that was it… there had been an accident. The details were hazy, though. She couldn't remember getting injured, just being very angry. Nothing made sense. She felt so disoriented… she could hear faint voices above her somewhere, but they kept fading in and out. After a long while, it seemed, she could begin to see a dim light, but it hurt her eyes. She squeezed them tighter together, refusing to fully wake up. The light became stronger, though, and she could no longer ignore it, nor could she ignore the dull pounding in the back of her head. In fact, now that she thought about it, her head was throbbing in pain. She groaned.
"Oh good, you're up." There were footsteps and the sound of a liquid being poured into a cup. Hermione cracked an eye open just in time to see a large, steaming goblet being pushed to her lips. The potion smelled terrible, and she felt a wave of nausea.
"Come on, now, drink up. It's not that bad."
The goblet was forced between Hermione's lips, and she felt hot liquid run down her throat. She gagged; the potion was foul tasting.
As the woman walked away, Hermione tried to sit up in bed and take in her surroundings. From what she could tell, she was in the infirmary, but there were no other students. She didn't see Madam Pomfrey; instead, the woman who had given her the potion was sweeping the far corner of the room. Hermione had never seen her before.
She cleared her throat. "Um, ex-excuse me," she started. The witch stopped sweeping and turned around. "C-can you tell me where Ma-madam Pomfrey is? I don't remember her leaving…"
The witch gave her a funny look. "Madam Pomfrey? There's no Madam Pomfrey here. Poor dear, you're still out of it, aren't you?" She walked back over to Hermione's bed and gently pushed her back into her pillows. "Don't worry about anything now; just get some more rest and we'll work everything out later."
Hermione's mind was swimming. No Madam Pomfrey? What had happened? Oh no, there couldn't have been another attack, could there? She sat up again. "What do you mean? What happened to Madam Pomfrey? Was there another attack?" She looked wildly around. "Why is the infirmary empty?"
"The school is empty," the witch said, "because all of the students are away on summer holiday." She paused, studying Hermione's face. "And I'm not sure what attack you're talking about. Professor Dippet has taken all of the necessary precautions to ensure the school's safety.
"Dippet?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"Yes, Professor Dippet, the school's Headmaster. Actually, he'll be stopping by later to talk with you. Now, for the last time, lie down and get some rest."
Grudgingly, Hermione lay back down. Though she was physically exhausted, her mind was racing, and she tried to process what she had just heard. Professor Dippet was Headmaster years ago… what was this woman talking about? And who was she, anyway? She had seen Madam Pomfrey just yesterday. What about McGonagall? This woman was certainly off her rocker. What was she going to say next… that Dumbledore was alive? Hermione scoffed at the idea. Something certainly wasn't right here… Still pondering these thoughts, she slowly fell back to sleep.
What seemed like moments later, Hermione heard voices outside the hospital wing. She slowly opened her eyes, and saw that it was dark now; also, the room was still empty, save for the infirmary witch striding towards the door. As she opened it, Hermione could see the silhouettes of two gentlemen standing in the threshold. She wasn't able to make out their faces, as they were illuminated by the light behind them. When they walked in, though, she gasped: it couldn't be!
"Ah," the witch said, "Professor Dumbledore, Professor Dippet, good evening." She stepped aside, letting the two men enter the room.
Hermione let out a stifled cry. Her body grew numb. "D-D-Dumbledore? Wha-" She stared blankly at his approaching figure. But, but Dumbledore was dead! How could this be? And yet there he was, standing at her bedside, peering intently over his half-moon spectacles.
"Hello, Miss. I'm glad to see you awake and well," he said kindly.
Hermione still stared in shock, mouth agape. "How… what… what's happening?"
"Well," he replied, "you received a rather nasty bump on the head almost a week ago. You seem to have fallen from a great height. But we're not sure how you came to be at Hogwarts in the first place." He paused, looking slightly mystified. "Actually, we were hoping that you would tell us about that."
"Wait… what do you mean, 'fell?'"
"We found you at the base of a tower. You appeared to have fallen from a seventh story window."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I-I don't remember falling…" she said, her voice trailing off.
Suddenly, the other wizard stepped into view. He was old, and very frail looking. "Why if Riddle hadn't found you," he started.
But Hermione didn't hear the rest. Riddle? Not… not Tom Riddle? Suddenly, she remembered… Tom Riddle… the window… the Room of Requirement… it all made sense. Overwhelmed, she burst into tears.
"Oh look what you've done," the nurse said, shooting the two wizards a nasty look, "you've upset her. You should go; she's obviously not ready to talk yet."
"Absolutely; come on, Albus, let's go," Dippet said, turning to leave.
"Wait!" Hermione cried through her tears, "I… need… to talk… to… Dumbledore!" She put her hands to her face and shook uncontrollably.
Dumbledore looked at her kindly. "Would you like me to come back tomorrow?" he asked.
She looked up and nodded.
"Well that's settled then; we'll talk tomorrow. Try and get some rest."
She continued to sob as the two left. The nurse walked over with another steaming goblet and said, "Calm down, dear. It will be alright." She handed Hermione the cup. "Now drink this, and get some sleep. Dumbledore's a great man, you know… he'll help you straighten everything out."
Hermione drank the potion without hesitation, and instantly fell asleep.
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The next day Hermione woke up less disoriented than the night before. She still felt horrible, but at least she knew where she was. Of course, she wasn't completely sure, though what she thought made sense.
She distinctly remembered falling out the window, right after seeing Tom Riddle. Watching him had made her so angry; she had wanted to hurt him, but instead only ended up hurting herself.
Wow, real smart, Hermione, she thought to herself. Look where you've landed yourself. The Room of Requirement, that window…how could you have missed it? The window didn't show a made up fantasy world, it showed the past. Tom Riddle, Dippet as Headmaster, and Dumbledore still alive…it all fits. And now you're stuck here.
Hermione sat for a long time, thinking this over. She hoped that Dumbledore really would be able to help her. If he didn't believe her story, though, she wouldn't know what to do. But then again, Dumbledore was a very trusting man. He'd have to be able to set things straight.
After a while, the door to the hospital wing opened, and in walked Dumbledore. Seeing him fully now, she felt apprehensive. It had been almost a year since she last saw him. In her time, he was dead, so it was difficult to see him here, alive and well.
"Ah, hello again," he said smiling. "I trust you're feeling better?"
Hermione smiled sheepishly, "Yes, thank you," she replied. "I'm sorry about my behavior last night…I was just so…overwhelmed."
"Don't be silly, that's perfectly normal for someone in your position." He sat in a chair by her bed, and stared intently out the window as if waiting for her to say something.
"So I guess you'd like to know who I am," Hermione said, breaking the awkward silence.
"Yes, that would be helpful," he said, still staring out the window.
"Well…my name's Hermione," she paused, "and this may sound like an odd question, but what year is it?"
Dumbledore turned to look at her. "Why yes, that is a rather odd question. The date is June 15th, 1944. But shouldn't you know that?"
Hermione sighed. So she had been right; she had fallen into the past. "Actually, I didn't know that."
She looked at him expectantly. When he made no reply, she continued.
"Well, the truth is…I'm not from around here."
Dumbledore nodded. "Apparently."
"No, what I mean is, I am from Hogwarts, just…" she paused, taking a deep breath, "just, Hogwarts fifty years in the future."
He looked at her quizzically. "Do you mean to tell me you've time traveled?"
"I know it sounds very far-fetched."
"Indeed it does. In fact, why should I even believe you?"
Hermione blushed. "Because… because it's the truth."
"Perhaps if you told me how you came to this time, I could give more credit to your story," he said, folding his hands in his lap.
"Well…" she paused, thinking carefully of what she should say. She knew time travel was a risky business, and didn't want to reveal too much about the future. "One day, I came across this room in Hogwarts. Inside, there was a window that showed the past, although I didn't know it at the time. I hadn't realized I was watching real people when I looked out this window… I thought it was only my imagination.
"Then one time when I was in the room, I was really angry and kind of… smashed open the window. I was sucked through and blacked out. When I woke up, I was here, in the hospital wing."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "That would explain how you fell, but how can I be sure you're not making this up?"
"Honestly Professor, what reason do I have to lie? And why else would I be wearing these robes? Wait…" Hermione sat up, excitedly. "Did you find my bag?"
"Oh, did no one tell you? Its right over there," he said, pointing to a table across the room. "Would you like me to get it for you?"
Hermione nodded.
Dumbledore flicked his wand and the bag floated over, landing in front of Hermione. She opened it up and pulled out Hogwarts, A History. "See, look at the publication date; it's nearly forty years from now! And look here, this part talks about the 1970's! Why would I have this if I'm from 1944?"
He took the book from her hands and scanned its pages.
"Please don't look at it too much," she said. "I don't think it's safe for you to read about the future."
"A smart idea," he said, closing the book. "Well, there's no arguing with this. I guess you really are from the future." He passed the book back to Hermione, who stowed it back in her bag. "Now the question is, how do we get you home?"
"I'm not sure, sir. I don't even know how the window worked in the first place."
Dumbledore looked at her thoughtfully. "I guess you'll have to stay here, then, until we sort things out. I'll arrange a meeting with Professor Dippet. And by the way, I believe you neglected to tell me your surname."
Hermione hesitated. She couldn't tell him her real name; she didn't want to influence the future. She racked her brain, desperately trying to think of another Muggle surname. "Parks, it's Hermione Parks."
He nodded. "It has been pleasure speaking with you, Miss Parks." He stood up. "I will send word when I have arranged a meeting with Professor Dippet."
"Thank you, sir. I really appreciate your help."
Dumbledore smiled and walked out of the room, leaving a much relieved Hermione alone with her thoughts.
