Chapter 4

Apparating to the outskirts of Hogsmeade was easy. Making their way to the gates of Hogwarts was not. The quartet was dressed in Muggle garb, and while Diagon Alley was packed enough that nobody noticed them, it wasn't a Hogsmeade Saturday, so the streets of the village, though not completely empty, were cleared enough that their blatant twenty-first century dress was not only noticed, but admired and remarked upon as well.

"The farther we go, the less this seems like a good idea," said Harry.

"Just trust me on this," whispered Hermione.

"I do trust you, Hermione," he said. "Really, I do. It's just that – and I don't know if you've noticed – but wizards don't seem to be very good at keeping secrets unless they're clinically paranoid, and then they're just crazy and try to take over the world!" Hermione rolled her eyes, but Harry pressed on. "Tom Riddle may not be widely known as Lord Voldemort just yet, but he'll still have his supporters everywhere, and supporters mean spies, which means – "

"He'll know we've come to see Dumbledore," Hermione finished. "But, Harry, who was the only wizard Voldemort ever feared?"

He blinked. "Dumbledore?"

"Correct," Hermione said, sure to keep her voice low as people passed them. "Which means that even if he does know where we are, as long as we're within reach of Dumbledore, he'll keep his distance. As long as we make it clear we're on Dumbledore's side, he won't want anything to do with us."

"I dunno, Hermione," said Neville, his hands in his pockets. "Harry has a point. And anyway, according to Gran, when Voldemort wanted something on his first rise to power, be it followers, money, or possessions, association with Dumbledore didn't count as much of an obstacle."

"Look at Slughorn," Harry argued. "How many times did Voldemort try to have him 'recruited' just because of a conversation?!"

"To be fair, Harry, that conversation was crucial to Voldemort's downfall," Hermione stated. "Anyone would want the only other person to know how to kill them out of the way. Of course there were people watching Slughorn."

"Yes, but that's just it, Hermione. Voldemort had a Malfoy follow us – "

"We don't know that he's a Malfoy," interjected Cormac.

Harry, Hermione, and Neville all looked at him, very unimpressed. "Cormac, please," said Neville, his voice flat. "Don't be thick."

"Voldemort had a Malfoy follow us," Harry continued fervidly in a hushed voice, "and that was only in London. He could have spies on the lookout everywhere. Four other people came with him when he applied to be Defense teacher under Dumbledore! Who knows who's watching the place? I don't like the risk here, Hermione."

"On that note," said Hermione quickly, "if Voldemort does have spies everywhere, even now, and even in Hogsmeade of all places, it would be best if we use our made-up names. It'll look less suspicious if the story gets back to him, and it'll be one less contradiction to amend."

"But yours isn't a made up name, Hermione!" Harry hissed. "And when we do get back to the future, Voldemort's going to know who you are because you gave him your real name!"

"What's he going to do?" Hermione challenged. "Have me listed by the Muggle-born Registration Committee? Oh, because we didn't already manage to avoid that, did we?"

"Could you take this just a little seriously?" Harry snapped.

"I am taking it seriously – Pip," Hermione assured him.

"Hermione, what if he does recognize you?" Harry whispered. "In the future, I mean."

"Why should he?" replied Hermione. "We never meet, we never see each other. I don't think I'll be much of a blip on his radar."

"But you will, Hermione, you will," said Harry, his eyes pleading with her to understand. "You're my best friend, then and now. What if he does remember you? Won't that make things that much more complicated?"

Hermione sighed. "All right, Harry. I'll go careful, and we'll all fly under the radar. But as the three of you have prominent surnames in the wizarding world, you have to stick to the names I gave you. We can't have any extra Longbottoms, or Potters running around. It would make explaining things much trickier."

"But you called me McLaggen," said Cormac, confusedly.

"Yes, well you're wearing your family crest around your neck, and that doesn't work well for blending in, Cormac," said Hermione. "Someone's bound to notice it sooner or later, and Voldemort being the clever bastard he is, he likely already would have, and reached the conclusion. The most we could do was not give him your Christian name; not that he'd have noticed it in the future, given that pureblood families do like to recycle names."

"Certain names are particular to certain families," Cormac said in a low voice. "You wouldn't understand, as you're muggle-born, but even a Christian name can be as particular to a family as their surname. It's just how that story goes."

Hermione eyed him. "Somehow, I feel like I should be offended, but I'm not."

"You're not supposed to be," he said dismissively.

"Grand thing," growled Harry, and a submissive silence fell over the other three. "Fine, then we'll stick to our names. Just you try your hardest to fly under the radar."

"And we'll keep our mouths shut about time-travelling," added Neville. "You focus on convincing Dumbledore, Hermione. We'd all probably get all the details wrong."

She patted his arm. "That's very sweet of you; thank you, Neville."

Harry hissed through his teeth, took Hermione's hand, and continued up the path to Hogwarts. Hermione tried to keep positive and hopeful as to the chances of their success with Dumbledore, but a niggling feeling in the back of her head told her things weren't nearly as optimistic as she was trying to make out they were. There was mud everywhere, which told them it was still spring, and Hermione wondered briefly if it were Easter. If they were lucky, it would be, and students would be home. As it was, they hadn't turned out to be very lucky, being bested by a surprised Rabastan Lestrange, and then falling through time into Borgin and Burke's storeroom while Lord Voldemort was working the shift. No, things weren't working in their favor at all.

When they reached the gate, Neville gulped. Cormac chuckled at his nervousness, and Neville forgot it long enough to give Cormac a hearty glare. Harry and Hermione tried not to appear too nervous or worried; Harry was failing miserably, and Hermione wondered if the same concern was etched in plain sight on her face as well. They bravely made their way through the castle-gates, up the steps, and through the front doors. So far, no hitch in their plans.

But where was Dumbledore?

"He wouldn't be headmaster now, would he?" asked Hermione.

"I don't think so," said Harry. "Voldemort came back when he was first appointed Headmaster, and the Voldemort we saw in Borgin and Burke's doesn't look anything like the one Dumbledore refused to hire." He shook his head. "I think it'll be a fair while until then. Where d'you think we should look?"

The quartet looked about uncertainly. "Well, according to Professor McGonagall, he was the Transfiguration professor before he became Headmaster. Perhaps we should start there?"

Harry shrugged. "We may as well."

Classes must have been in session, because even though the halls were mostly empty, there were occasional students who passed them in the corridors. Beyond the vague registering of their rather bizarre get-up, however, in what was 1946, the four time-travelers were really paid no mind. Perhaps their muddied appearance, or their drawn and tired faces, or the small wound on the side of Harry's head that oozed a little kept the students from asking questions. Hermione didn't know, nor did she care. Her sole focus was the Transfiguration classroom and a conversation with Professor Dumbledore.

They arrived at the door, and, as though on cue, they all stopped.

"Somebody's got to open it," said Neville.

"Who, though?" said Harry.

"I think Hermione should do it," said Cormac rather decidedly. "I mean, you are the brains of this operation, aren't you?"

Hermione stared at the door. "I don't want to open it."

"Come on, Hermione," urged Harry. "It's Dumbledore. It's not like he's going to curse you as soon as you set foot inside."

"Fine," she said. "You open it."

"No," Harry retorted, nudging her towards the door. "You do it. Cormac's right, for once. You're the brains here."

Hermione hissed through her teeth, pinched Harry, and then marched up to the Transfiguration classroom and opened the door just a crack.

It had to be the most bizarre thing she'd ever done, even more so than when she and Harry had freed Sirius with the time-turner their third year. This was worse; no one had known what she and Harry had done, save Professor Dumbledore. Now, as she opened the door, thirty heads turned towards her in unison, each brow furrowing in confusion, concern, or disgust. At the head of the classroom stood a man in brightly colored robes, with twinkling eyes, half-moon spectacles perched on the end of his long crooked nose. He appeared to take in her form with no hint of bemusement whatsoever; it was as though he'd been expecting her for some time, and she'd finally decided to keep the appointment.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"Can I help you, my dear?"

Hermione choked on the words that were trying to form in her throat. "I hope so."

"Is he there?" whispered Harry, peering over Hermione's shoulder. She elbowed him in the stomach, and he stepped away with a gasp.

"I realize this is rather – er, short notice, but we couldn't think of anyone else who might be able to help."

Harry, ignoring the warning the came with Hermione's elbow, pushed open the door a little bit more, and looked past his best friend to the, now, auburn-haired Dumbledore. "We wouldn't be here at all, sir, only we – er, seem to be in a bit of a fix, and we can't – well, fix it."

Professor Dumbledore smiled, and waved to the steps behind him. "If you would be willing to wait in my office, I'd be more than happy to help sort out your predicament."

The only thing that could possibly have made Hermione happier was hearing Ron say, "I love you." She gripped a nearby Neville tightly by the shirt, and pulled him in the door. "Thank you, sir," she said. "Thank you."

The room was quiet as the four marched past Professor Dumbledore, into the office, and closed the door softly behind them. Putting his ear to the door, Harry heard the whispers break out immediately. "I think the hard part's over, wouldn't you say?"

"No!" said Hermione, as though this was the most ridiculous idea she'd ever heard. "We've still got to convince Dumbledore that we really are we say we are – "

"Are we telling him our real names then?" said Cormac, almost gloomily.

"Of course we are, dolt," snapped Hermione. "He's not going to trust us if he doesn't know who we are, and if he doesn't trust us to not be making trouble of some kind, it's not likely he'll help us. That's going to be the hard part, Harry. How do you convince someone from the past that you're from the future? Anyone can make a prediction about the future – Trelawney did it for sixteen years, for heaven's sakes!"

"We'll think of something, Hermione," Neville said, patting her shoulder.

" 'Course we will," said Harry. "We always do, don't we, Hermione?"

She sank down into a chair. "I certainly hope so, because if Dumbledore can't help us, I'm afraid we're stuck. Whatever curse Lestrange cast. . .I've never seen it before, and there's no telling what it did."

Cormac scoffed. "We know what it did, Hermione," he said grandly. "It threw us back in time, that's what it did."

"Don't be ridiculous, Cormac," she snapped. "Spells don't throw people back in time. Time-warps, or worm-holes, or time-turners take people back in time. There is no spell for that sort of thing. Whatever Lestrange cast blew apart the floor and triggered the thing that brought us to 1946. The question is, what does the curse do?"

"Well he'd be completely stupid to trigger a worm-hole," said Cormac.

"Well, he's not exactly sane, now is he?" retorted Hermione.

"I'm with her on this," said Harry. "Who in hell would send us back to 1946, and to what purpose? It wouldn't be for fun. Where's the fun in that? Anyway, you don't toss your enemies back to 1946 to be rid of them. They can make sure you're never born."

"You think it was an accident, Hermione?" said Neville.

"It's one possibility," she said. "But, that being the case, if it were an accident, where is Lestrange? And if it wasn't an accident, why would he send us here, to 1946 specifically?"

"You're actually entertaining the notion that he sent us here on purpose?" said Cormac laughingly.

"You heard him, didn't you, Cormac?" said Hermione. "Or were you just not listening. He stated, rather clearly, too, that we would be the ones to fix the situation, indicating there is a problem. What problem could there possibly be other than, oh, I dunno, we killed their boss and are currently looking to lock them up in Azkaban?!" She rubbed her eyes. "Then again, it could have been an accident. He might have just been desperate to knock us on our backs and give himself an edge. We won't know for certain for a bit longer. We'll all just have to be patient."

"Maybe Dumbledore'll have an extra idea," said Harry soothingly.

"You're still going to trust the codger?" said Cormac. "After everything he put you all through, you're going to trust him with this?"

"There's nowhere safer than where Dumbledore is, Cormac," said Harry crossly.

"You flatter me, though I'm not sure I deserve it," said Dumbledore's voice from behind them.

Harry whipped around, eyes widened in surprise. "Sir."

"You must be quite a lot of trouble if you made the bother to come see me about it," he said, closing the door, and gesturing to Harry to sit down. "Now, my students are under the impression that we are all familiar with each other, although I am quite certain, on my part, we are not." He sat behind his desk and formed a steeple with his hands. "So, who are you, and how may I help you?"

The boys immediately looked to Hermione, and she cleared her throat, just a little bit nervous. "Well, you see, Professor, we're not exactly sure how it happened, but we've fallen back in time."

Dumbledore said nothing for a moment, appearing to think it over. "Go on, if you will."

Hermione told him everything, their names, their story, her suspicions about Lestrange, trying her best to leave out the bits of the story that weren't essential to their getting home, and also to leave out as much about the second Wizarding War as was possible. She told him how they'd been tracking the Death Eaters, a point at which Dumbledore frowned, as though he didn't approve of young people hunting for full-grown Dark Wizards. Hermione explained about the curse Lestrange had cast, how it had splintered the floor, and the gaping black hole that had swallowed them for several hours before they had landed quite harshly in the storeroom at Borgin and Burke's.

Dumbledore was quiet a long time after the story finished, apparently thinking it over. At last he said, "I must admit, this is not the story I was expecting. I do think, however, that stranger things have happened, and it would behoove me to come to your aid, as you have apparently come to mine in your own time."

"Wait," said Cormac. "You actually. . .I dunno, believe us?"

"Is there reason not to believe you, Mr. McLaggen?"

"Well, no, sir, it's just that. . .er, well, it's kind of a bizarre story. I find it hard to believe, and it's happening to me."

Dumbledore nodded wisely. "Yes, well, the most shocking events are often the ones that require us to be the most unemotional. Your hesitance is understandable." He turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger, you didn't recognize the spell, but could you describe it for me? Its color, I mean."

Hermione thought. "Cerulean, I should say, with slight leanings towards indigo."

Dumbledore frowned. "I do believe I've only ever heard of one curse of that color," he said gravely, "and its effects can't be reversed easily."

"Which spell is it, Professor?" said Hermione, mentally reeling through a list of all the spells she knew, just in case she'd missed one.

"The Exsequor Curse. It is a curse that allows the caster to track his quarry. As far as I know, it has only ever been used once. Well," he amended, "that is, before your case."

"But, Professor," interjected Harry, "if we've fallen through time, how could we possibly be followed?"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "Did the caster follow you in your descent?"

"We don't know?"

"Is it likely he was aware of the possible outcome of his curse?"

"Very likely," said Hermione, "as it was his own manor."

"Then, because you do not know his whereabouts and the battle took place in his manor, you must assume he has landed in this time and has the ability to track you," Dumbledore said simply, as though this was the only logical explanation to their problem.

"If it was really a tracking spell," said Cormac thoughtfully, "why did it tear the floor to shreds?"

"Any spell can tear a wooden floor to shreds," said Dumbledore calmly, "if it is cast powerfully enough."

"If he did follow us," said Neville suddenly, "he'd know how to get in touch with Voldemort."

"Yup," agreed Hermione. The idea had already occurred to her, and now their lives had all suddenly become more complicated.

"That means that, even with the false identities in place, Voldemort could still find out who we really are," he continued.

"Yup," said Hermione again.

"Then he'll try to keep an even closer eye on us."

"Yup."

"He could try to kill Harry now," said Neville, his voice indicating that he was beginning to panic.

"I doubt it," Hermione said, still thinking.

Neville, Cormac, and Harry all stared at her. "Eh?" they chimed.

"Well, you said, Harry, that Voldemort made seven Horcruxes, because seven is the most magically powerful number, correct?"

Harry screwed up his face. "O – kay?"

"Harry, Voldemort didn't tell any of his followers about the Horcruxes. If Lestrange tells Voldemort that you defeated him, but doesn't know the biggest secret of them all, Voldemort could arrive at two possible conclusions: that you found him out and destroyed his Horcruxes, or that he still has Horcruxes available. From what we know of Voldemort, he thinks quite highly of himself, doesn't he?"

"Kind of an understatement, Hermione, but yeah," Harry replied, his face still uncertain.

"Odds are he won't even consider the possibility that you discovered his secret, he'll think that in the future he'll still have seven Horcruxes to fall back on. If that happens, and it seems the most likely scenario, Voldemort won't want to try to engage you until he has all seven Horcruxes, particularly if he knows you defeated him in our future."

A look of understanding dawned on Harry's face. "And that could give us time to find a way to reverse the effects of Lestrange's curse and find a way home!"

"Exactly," said Hermione. "I mean, there's still a chance that this could all go horribly wrong, but it seems quite small."

Harry nodded hurriedly. "Well, let's not dwell on that," he said, looking much relieved.

Hermione looked to Dumbledore, who simply smiled. "I suppose you'd like my assistance with your time issue?"

"Sir, we wouldn't ask if we weren't desperate," said Hermione. "We know you're terribly busy – "

He waved off the apology in Hermione's voice. "Nonsense. As much as I enjoy teaching, a diversion would not go amiss. I shall do what I can on my end, but I think a better question is, what will you four do with yourselves?"

They glanced at each other and shrugged. "Would it be worth it to peruse Hogwarts' library?" asked Hermione.

Dumbledore seemed impressed with her resolve. "I cannot say what the results would be of the time spent, but it hardly seems like it would be a fruitless endeavor."

"And we'll just. . .I dunno, help Hermione, I guess," said Harry.

Dumbledore hummed approvingly. "And the next all-important question: Where will you stay?"

The quartet exchanged glances again. "We're still working on that part," said Harry after a bit.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled knowingly, and he took up a quill and parchment, and began scribbling. "It seems rather foolish to ask if you are familiar with the Three Broomsticks Inn," he said. "Hand this over to Rosmerta – I suppose you know her as well – and ask if there happens to be a room available." He rolled the parchment into a tight scroll, tied it, and handed it over to Harry.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said. "Really, thank you."

Dumbledore waved off the thanks. "Just be careful. I've watched Tom Riddle grow up. He has enough charisma and charm to coerce many of his greatest opponents, and he has enough power to intimidate the rest, especially if their consciences are not enough to keep them in check. If he asked young Abraxas Malfoy to follow you – and I am sure he did, as Abraxas was in his pocket early on – he will have hired someone else to track you down and watch you. Do not quarrel; any sign of weakness will be your end." He looked at each of them in turn, as though making sure they understood clearly, and, apparently satisfied, nodded once. "Now, then, I must be off, and so must you. I have a class, and you've a room to reserve."