Chapter 4: Discombobulation
Diagon Alley-August 27th, 1973
The hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley less than a week before the beginning of a new Hogwarts term was as frenetic as ever. Some things, Hermione thought with a smile, were timeless. Witches and wizards swarmed around shop windows and entrances, shoving and elbowing each other out of the way without regard as they clamored for better access to goods. Vendors shouted to be heard over one another as children gleefully ran about underfoot, working to evade their parents; animals adding their shrieks and cries to the cacophony of noise which filled the alley. Hermione was finding that despite the overwhelming swell of the crowd Hagrid managed to cut a path quite easily, his bulk handily dispersing the crush of people and leaving a clear path for her to tread in his wake. She hurried along behind him as he led the way toward Twilfitt and Tattings, struggling slightly to keep up with the large man's stride.
When they finally managed to reach the clothing store, Hagrid lingered at the window, peering bemusedly at clothing on display.
"I'll, er, leave you to it, shall I, Hermione?" he suggested, shuffling his feet. "Fashion isn't really my thing, if yeh get my meaning." He gestured illustratively towards his large moleskin overcoat, which, if Hermione was correct, was the same one he would still be wearing in twenty years' time. Its condition, as she remembered it, would be even more battered than the state it was in now. "Probably best left to the likes of you," Hagrid was saying. "I'd wager you'll know better what to get for yerself than I ever could."
Hermione nodded absently. She hardly felt qualified to be unleashed into the likes of Twilfitt and Tattings by herself, but she supposed Hagrid was right. If she was going to be forced to endure bra shopping in 1973, she hardly needed Hagrid looming over her the whole time acting as an awkward chaperone.
"Besides which, I got a couple of things ter pick up anyway. I'll come back and meet yeh in about an hour, alright lass?"
"Alright, Hagrid, thanks," Hermione replied, giving the Gamekeeper a grateful smile and a little wave. She watched her new guardian amble away down the street, his overcoat weighed down with a multitude of packages containing everything from potions ingredients and scales, to a set of third year books which was slightly altered from that which Hermione had purchased only a couple of weeks ago (to her mind) in the 1990's. It may not have been fashionable, but the upside of Hagrid's coat was that he could easily carry the entirety of her new set of school supplies, leaving her unburdened to shop for clothes. As unenthused as Hermione may have been about the prospect, it had to be done. For the last week she'd been alternating between wearing her mended 1990's era school uniform, and a series of questionable articles of clothing appropriated from the Hogwart's lost and found.
Steeling herself, she turned once more to Twilfitt and Tattings, pushing open the door to the upscale clothing shop. Her action triggered the cheerful tinkling of a small bell, announcing her presence to the sales staff. Hermione grimaced as she found herself suddenly pinned under the stares of a flock of young, posh looking, sales witches, all of whom appeared desperate to obtain a commission from her. Hermione really would have preferred to do all her clothes shopping at Madam Malkin's, but although they had 'robes for all occasions', they didn't have much in the way of anything else and, unfortunately, Hermione needed more than just robes. In point of fact, she needed a whole new wardrobe, as hers had been so inconveniently left behind in 1993 along with everything else. So Twilfitt and Tattings it was.
Forty-five minutes after entering the establishment, and Hermione was laden down with multiple shopping bags stuffed to brim with robes, sweaters, slacks and underthings. She found that wizarding fashions were not all that different from those that she was familiar with from the 1990's. It seemed that in contrast to muggle fashion, wizarding styles didn't evolve at a very rapid pace, which was absolutely fine with Hermione. The apparent steadfastness of wizarding fashion suited her purposes very well. She already felt out of place here, she certainly didn't want to feel as if she was wearing a costume all of the time as well. All the pieces she had purchased were very basic, or classic, as her mother may have said. Hermione was just glad that she would have clothes of her own again. Though she wasn't one to be overly invested in clothing or her own appearance, she had to admit that it would be nice to be able to wear something other than her school uniform again. Hermione had never been put in a position to realize it before, but it was quite terrible not to have access to underwear of one's own.
Her new 1970's wardrobe, along with her school supplies, had been purchased using the stipend which Dumbledore had set up to provide for her care and living expenses. She would receive a yearly allowance, and the amount was more than generous. Hermione couldn't' help but feel somewhat uncomfortable accepting the money, even if it was necessary and largely for the purpose of furthering her education. In her past life, her parents had always been able to provide Hermione with everything she might need, though they had never conceded to letting her get braces, much to her consternation. The fact that she was now dependent on a stipend from Dumbledore to survive served as a harsh reminder that, for all intents and purposes, she was entirely without family in the 1970's. She did have Hagrid though, and they had spent the past few days getting used to each other's presence as Dumbledore finalized the updates to the man's cottage necessary for Hermione to move in. Of course, until today, Hermione had possessed precious little to move in with, which is why she and Hagrid now found themselves in Diagon Alley on the most exhausting, extensive shopping trip of Hermione's young life.
It seemed the only thing she hadn't needed was a new wand, having somehow fortunately retained her own original one over the course of her trip through time. 1973 was already proving to be enough of an adjustment all on its own, and Hermione didn't know if she could handle a temperamental new wand on top of everything else. She curled her fingers around her the familiar vine wood of her precious magical instrument, the tool fitting comfortably in her slight hand. Idly, she wondered if there was a duplicate of her wand sitting in Olivander's shop right at this very moment, as of yet unsold. Maybe now, it never would be. She squeezed her wand tighter, as if to assure herself that it was real, that it was there, and that it was hers. Potions kits and ingredients could easily be replaced, but a person shared a real bond with their wand, and Hermione was exceedingly glad that she hadn't lost hers.
Hobbling awkwardly under the bulk of her many shopping bags, Hermione made her way to a nearby bench just outside Twilfitt and Tattings, plopping down and relinquishing her bags with relief as she settled in to wait for Hagrid. Only five minutes later, she spotted the Gamekeeper off in the distance but heading in her direction. The man wasn't exactly inconspicuous, large as he was, and carrying such a vast amount of packages. On top of everything else, it now looked to Hermione as if Hagrid was attempting to conceal something quite large beneath his overcoat, though this was made difficult by the fact that whatever it was kept moving. As he approached more closely, his mysterious new package continued to make itself known via extensive wriggling, drawing quite the amount of stares as Hagrid did his best to contain it. Hermione frowned speculatively, eyeing Hagrid's moving overcoat with apprehensive skepticism. She just hoped that whatever Hagrid was concealing, it wasn't some kind of frightening new type of spider he had happened upon and would try to convince everyone would make a delightful pet. While she hardly had as much of a problem with the many legged creatures as Ron, she certainly didn't want to live with one.
Hagrid came to a stop before Hermione's bench, smiling hugely at her despite the fact that he was still preoccupied with wrangling whatever lay beneath his coat. It seemed to be admitting high pitched shrieks now, which hopefully eliminated the possibility of it being any type of arachnid.
"Er, Hagird," Hermione ventured tentatively. "What's that you've got beneath your coat?"
"Well lass, I got yeh a bit of a surprise," Hagrid revealed. "Sort of a housewarming gift, ter be honest with yeh. I hope yeh like it!"
And with that, he threw aside his coat to reveal a cage containing a very haughty looking, sleek, black bird. The fact that the bird appeared profoundly irritated, ruffling its feathers and craning its neck proudly, only further added to its distinct air of nobility.
"Hagrid, is that a hawk?" Hermione asked in astonishment, staring at the creature in awe.
"Well spotted, Hermione!" Hagrid beamed at her, the future Care of Magical Creature's professor seemingly delighted at her ability to correctly identify the bird. "I almost got yeh an owl," he confessed, "but then I spotted this beauty in the corner o' the shop, lookin' down on everyone real proud like and such. Thought she might be a bit more exciting than an owl! She can still deliver letters an' all, just gotta be a bit more careful in yer handlin' o' her."
Hagrid paused to readjust the hawk's cage, eying Hermione worriedly as he did so. "Do yeh like her, lass?"
Hermione's eyes were brimming over with tears. She was unbelievably touched by Hagrid's gesture. Overcome with emotion, she launched herself into the Gamekeeper's side, hugging him fiercely.
"I love her, Hagrid," Hermione said, her voice choked with emotion and somewhat muffled due to her face being buried in Hagrid's side, but the giant of a man heard and understood her nevertheless. "It means so much. Thank you."
When Hermione finally withdrew from Hagrid's side, her eyes considerably less dry than they had been a few minutes previously. Herr new guardian was smiling gently at her, his eyes soft.
"I'm glad yeh like her, Hermione," he said earnestly. "What'll yeh name her?"
Hermione eyed the bird, who was still engaged in ruffling her feathers haughtily and periodically letting out indignant shrieks. Hermione cocked her head contemplatively. "I think I'll get to know her a little bit first before I settle on a name," she decided eventually, smiling at Hagrid.
He tipped his head at her. "Not a bad idea, lass."
"Now," Hagrid gestured at the virtual mountain of shopping bags which Hermione had left forgotten on her abandoned bench. "I think we've done quite enough shopping for one day, don't you, best to be getting' on home, I should think."
Hermione nodded, gathering up the last of her bags while Hagrid busied himself with the hawk, cooing at the animal lovingly as he hitched her cage higher up on his hip. It did, at least, seem easier to manage now that he wasn't trying to hide it beneath his overcoat. Then, everything settled and accounted for, Hermione placed her small hand in Hagrid's much larger one, and together, they headed towards home.
Several days later, after a considerable degree of observation and consideration, Hermione had decided on a name for her new familiar; Lady Macbeth, or Lady, for short. If drawing on Shakespearean works of literature for inspiration when choosing a name had been good enough for her parents, it was certainly good enough for Hermione. Besides which, the name really did seem fitting. Lady, as Hermione had discovered over the course of the last few days, had quite the dark, haughty aura about her, and she was undeniably proud. Slowly but surely though, Hermione felt that they were developing a good relationship based on mutual respect. And Lady certainly did demand respect. Hermione couldn't help but like that about her. She'd always been drawn to highly intelligent animals with complex personalities. She missed Crookshanks something awful, of course, but perhaps, in time, they would be reunited. And already, she was falling in love with Lady, too. Hermione was terribly touched that Hagrid had gotten her such a thoughtful gift. He really was a sweetheart of a man, and he was doing his best to make her feel welcome here, despite the difficulty of her situation and the suddenness with which she had been thrust upon him and entrusted into his care.
"How'd yeh decide on that?" Hagrid asked curiously when Hermione informed of the name she had selected for her new familiar.
"It's after a character from a muggle play," Hermione explained, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "She's quite diabolical; a murderess actually. Or, at least, responsible for orchestrating one."
"Your bird has a lot to live up to then, doesn't she lass?" Hagrid said, raising eyebrows at her from across the breakfast table and smiling into his teacup.
"I suppose so," Hermione laughed, reaching for her toast and spreading some peach preserves on it before taking a nibble. If she was honest though, she didn't actually have much of an appetite. It was the morning of August 31st, and she and Hagrid were sharing a companionable breakfast in preparation for what was sure to be a busy day. As unbelievable as it seemed to Hermione, the 1973 Hogwarts term was set to begin the next evening, and Hagrid, as Hogwarts Gamekeeper, had much to prepare for before the legions of students arrived. Just the same as in the 1990's, when Hermione had made the journey herself as an unsure eleven year old filled with false bravado, Hagrid was charged with guiding the first years across the Black Lake, ushering them toward their first sight of Hogwarts. It was a duty Hermione could see that Hagrid delighted in, able to witness the young student's reactions as they finally caught sight of the castle for the first time and were inevitably awed by its majesty.
In the lead up to the arrival of the students though, there was much to be done. Hogwarts was a positive flurry of activity at the moment. There was a veritable mass of things needing to be finalized, and a seemingly endless amount of little adjustments to be made around the castle and across the grounds, all of which fell under the purview of Hagrid's gamekeeping duties. Hermione, for her part, wasn't without obligations of her own. For one thing, she had to pack, as ridiculous as that seemed given that she would only be relocating just the short distance from Hagrid's cottage up to the castle. The Hogwarts grounds were vast, but her trip this year would hardly necessitate taking an hour's long train ride across the country, and it certainly wouldn't occupy the majority of her day, as the journey from platform 9 and ¾'s to Hogwarts usually did.
With a start, Hermione realized that now that she lived with Hagrid, so close to the school, she would perhaps never have need to take the Hogwarts Express again. The thought saddened her, and she forcefully shoved it out of her mind before she could become too preoccupied with melancholy. She had quite enough to fret over already without adding any new additional concerns. Tomorrow she would be making her way once more to Hogwarts, as she had done only a few weeks previously. Or at least, that's what it felt like to Hermione. In reality, the trips would be decades apart, but to the displaced witch they were separated only by a short and very strange interlude.
Later, sitting in her newly appointed bedroom surrounded by an array of possessions that didn't quite feel like hers yet, in a space that didn't quite feel like hers yet either, and Hermione was struggling not to become overwhelmed with anxiety. She lay curled up on the bed, another thing that didn't yet feel like hers, hugging her knees to her chest and staring blankly at her brand new school trunk. Brand new and newly packed. It seemed quite silly now to have bought all new things, and to have spent time setting them up in her new room, only to pack them all away again just a few days later. But Hermione supposed she was going through the motions of it all. She didn't quite know what else to do, discombobulated as she was. At times she almost felt as if she was adjusting, beginning to feel at least somewhat normal again, but these were mere moments; brief flashes of time where for a millisecond she forgot where -when- she was, and that her existence was now very far from normal. Perhaps, Hermione thought darkly, flashes of normality were all she would have now. Perhaps she would never truly feel normal again; never at peace, never at home. Just there, stuck in the wrong time. An anachronism in human form.
Hermione sighed heavily, curling her body more tightly into itself. She was allowing herself to get despondent again, and while she knew rationally that such feelings weren't productive, she just couldn't seem to help her emotions. The hectic activity which had filled the last few days, including moving into Hagrid's cottage, and her excursion with him to Diagon Alley, had managed to distract her for a while from the bleak reality of her situation. But such distractions were only temporary, and now, here alone in her new room, Hermione could focus on nothing but how hopelessly adrift she felt in the 1970's. For the first time in her life, she was dreading the start of school the next day, when it was something she had always reveled in previously. Even in 1993, when the beginning of the school term had been marred by her worry over Sirius Black, she had still been excited to get back to Hogwarts. Now, repeating the process under vastly different circumstances, all Hermione felt was an increasingly all-consuming sense of dread.
This dread was spurred in now small amount by the fact that she would be sharing classes and a common room with a young Sirius Black, a man whom she knew would later become Death Eater and mass murderer. It seemed his presence was a dark shadow hanging over both 1993 and 1973, despite the decades between the years. Hermione knew there would be other future Death Eaters residing in the castle as well, lurking ominously in the wings of the Hogwarts of this time. Lucius Malfoy, to name one of the particularly dangerous. She would have to be exceedingly careful here. Dumbledore was right, if anyone were to find out her true origins, it would be utterly catastrophic. If Hermione had thought hiding a time turner was an albatross around her neck dragging her down, it was nothing compared to the weight of the secret which she now needed to keep. And she was almost entirely alone in her bearing of it. She hadn't even shared everything she knew with Dumbledore. In actuality, she had shared very little with the Headmaster, relating things only in the broadest of terms, and on a purely need to know basis. The two of them were each fully aware of the dangers of her being more specific. Even if she had told him everything, Dumbledore was hardly the type of person she would be able to confide in regularly in order to obtain relief. The man was exorbitantly busy, and any unusual amount of attention she received from him was sure to garner suspicion.
No. Hermione was all alone here. Just her, Sirius Black and a cadre of future Death Eaters. The young witch did realize, of course, that the Hogwarts of the 1970's wasn't populated solely with malevolent figures. There were also benign ones, she knew, but Hermione feared that they could be just as dangerous to her. Quite separate from Sirius Black, on the opposite end of the spectrum of her anxieties, Hermione would be sharing a common room with Harry's parents, and even more intimately, a dorm with Lily. She could scarcely fathom how her interactions with the Potters would play out, but she vowed that she would catalogue and remember every detail of Harry's parents for him that she could, just in case she ever managed to get back to her friend. Dumbledore hadn't managed to impart much hope to her on that front, but Hermione had to hang on to the possibility of returning to her original time, however slim that possibility might have been. It may have been an unrealistic delusion, but it was one that Hermione needed. Without it, she feared that she may go completely insane, and she already felt far too close to going off the rails. The amount of pressure she was under was almost too much for one thirteen year old witch to handle on her own. Or was she fourteen now, Hermione wondered idly? Everything was so tangled and confusing right now, she didn't even know how old she was. In the face of such complicated realities, it was hard not to succumb to hopelessness.
Despite all her worries about the next day, Hermione could at least look forward to the coming familiarity of the Gryffindor common room. As she fell into a fitful, anxious sleep, she tried to take comfort from visions of cozy, red arm chairs and warm, crackling fires.
AN: Next chapter is going to be a long one. Hermione starts school and we finally get Sirius, Lily, James and the rest of the marauders :) As always, let me know if you see any mistakes and I'll do my best to fix them ASAP.
