Chapter 82: Sunday, September 27, 1981

"We are drowning in information, but starved for knowledge."

-John Naisbitt

Hermione's right hand rested on her sternum, her fingers playing with the locket Remus had gifted her for her birthday. It was beautiful—a simple, gold oval with a H etched into the front of it in a complicated, curly script. Inside of the locket, however, was what made her treasure it. A picture of them smiling brightly, taken earlier in the week at the insistence of Remus. She had thought it odd, how insistent he had been that Lily took their picture, but when she opened the jewelry and saw the moment looking back up at her, she was thankful he had.

And now, as her left thumb twisted the ring on her finger absent-mindedly and her right hand fiddled with the necklace, she was brought out of her train of thought by the scoff coming from across the table.

"Yes?"

"If you're done fantasizing, the potion needs stirred. Anti-clockwise, seventeen times. Clockwise eight."

Hermione blew out a deep breath and began to stir, the lack of bite in Snape's voice not going past her notice. "Are you all right, Severus?"

"Fine."

"You seem...perturbed."

"I am always perturbed when I am in the presence of—"

"While I hate to interrupt what I'm sure was a well thought out and particularly hurtful insult," Hermione interrupted, with a pointed glance. "I need to ask you something."

Snape glared at her from across the table, his curtain of oily hair falling into his eyes. "I'm growing tired of how often you require my assistance."

Hermione smirked, "I'm sure you are, but unfortunately for you, I don't know any other reformed Death Eaters, so humor me."

Hermione reached into her back pocket to pull out the letter she had received two weeks prior and did her best to smooth the wrinkles from the parchment before handing it to him. Snape stared at her outstretched hand and she shook it at him, raising her eyebrows into her hairline. He huffed out an annoyed breath and snatched the parchment from her hand, his eyes scanning over it quickly before looking back up at her.

"What is this?"

"I was hoping you could answer that."

"Why would I be able to answer that?"

"Because it clearly was sent to me to scare me off."

"Do you have something to be afraid of?"

"Don't you?"

Snape pressed his lips together in a thin line and handed back the parchment. "It's not signed."

"I'm aware."

"What do you expect me to do?"

Hermione shrugged, "Nothing, really. I just wondered if you knew who wrote it."

"This may be hard to believe," Snape began. "But, I do not possess the knowledge of every person's handwriting."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, "You could have just said no."

The corner of his mouth twitched upward and Hermione rolled her eyes, folding the parchment into a small square and tucking it back into her pocket.

Silence consumed them once more as Hermione finished stirring the potion that bubbled in the cauldron. She adjusted the heat, dropping the temperature a bit, before sitting on the hard, wooden chair and flipping open Dolohov's journal. She pulled the loose bit of parchment that had the formulas she had been working on recently from the inside cover, and began working to dismantle another one of the curses.

"You're a muggleborn," Snape said, after quite some time of quiet.

Hermione looked up from the equation she had been working and drew her brows together, "...yes?"

Snape cleared his throat and made an almost nervous looking gesture with his hand, waving toward her before taking a seat across from her. "I mean, they know you're a muggleborn."

Hermione put down her pen and sat back in the chair, crossing her legs at the knee. "Okay."

"They've been sending these types of things to muggleborns for over a year," he continued. "Scaring them out of their homes. That's how the Darby family was attacked on that train. If they've sent you a letter, they know where you live."

"I'd gathered as much," Hermione mumbled, feeling a strange relief at the knowledge that the letter had been nothing more than referencing her blood status. "They're running people out of their homes, then?"

Snape's head bobbed, "You've made enemies of them."

Hermione snorted, "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"I wasn't guessing. You have made enemies with power hungry wizards who want nothing more than to watch you suffer."

"Why run me out of my house? Why run anyone out of their house? They've already proven they don't object to causing damage to everything around them. What's the point of that?"

"To make a statement," Snape said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You seem to be operating under the illusion that there is logic behind the ideals in which they have put their efforts. I can assure you, there is none."

"You know, oddly enough, I didn't actually think that eradicating muggleborns made any logical sense on any plane. However, the moves they've made, had. It made sense to seek allies in werewolves, vampires and giants. Taking over the Ministry, gaining control over the public through fear… all of that makes sense. What doesn't, is forcing muggleborns from their homes just to kill them. What do they stand to gain from that?"

"They're searching their homes, taking items they can use and—"

"They're pillaging?" Hermione asked, incredulously.

"Essentially."

Hermione closed her eyes, puffing out a short breath and shaking her head. "Voldemort is pillaging through muggleborn homes," she muttered.

"The Dark Lord would not stoop to pilfering through items of people he deem beneath him," Snape said. "Some of the others, however…"

"They're doing it to add to their vaults."

Snape nodded, "Collecting items that they feel are rightfully theirs, apparently."

Hermione's face wrinkled in disgust. It wasn't enough that the purists were creating issues and now killing anyone that stood against them; but they were taking away what precious little connected anyone to the Wizarding World from the outside. Hermione thought about her own valuables...namely, an amulet that had been given to her that was of an ancient bloodline. Not to mention that if the Death Eaters knew where she lived, that also meant the chances of them finding out that James, Lily, and Harry resided only two doors down...

Her hands, which were picking at a piece of parchment while Snape talked, stilled.

"I have to go," Hermione said, abruptly standing up from her chair and shoving her belongings into her knapsack. "Is Dumbledore at Hogwarts on Sundays?"

"Typically," Snape answered, looking at her with curiosity.

"Can you get me in?"

"If there is something that you need to address with—"

"It concerns the safety of the Potters," Hermione said.

Snape raised an eyebrow in question and she huffed out a breath, shoving her hair from her face.

"Lily is in danger, Severus. I need to talk to Dumbledore, now."

"My office is connected by floo to my home on Spinner's End," Snape said, getting up from the table to place the cauldrons under stasis. "We can enter from there."

"Thank you."

Snape's home was unpleasant.

There wasn't another word for it. From the dark drapes that robbed the living room of any light to the battered furniture and piles of books that spilled from sagging bookshelves, the entire place was dreary and a little sad. With it being the first year of his teaching, she wondered if he had opted to spend the Holidays at Hogwarts, or if he stayed here—alone in the dark. She noticed, however, a picture on the mantle as she went to dip her fingers into the crystal bowl containing floo powder.

It was of a thin woman with dark hair that hung to her elbows in thick waves. She had almond shaped, dark eyes that were framed with long, thick lashes and a thin mouth that turned up as she smiled down at the boy who was hugging her knees. She pointed and looked as if she were ushering the boy to stand beside her, instead of hiding behind her. Finally, he stepped out at the same time a tall, broad man with a hooked nose stepped into the frame, looking irate.

"Are these your parents?" Hermione asked, motioning to the frame.

Snape scowled and grabbed the battered brass, flipping it over so that the picture was face down on the stone. "Moments ago, you were concerned about the safety of your friends, and now you're stopping to make pleasantries about my family?"

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, realizing she overstepped a boundary. "I didn't mean—"

"It's not any of your business, who the pictures in my house are of."

"You're right. I apologize."

Snape's jaw seemed to tighten further, if at all possible. And, Hermione had the thought that if her own parents were here now, they would scold him for putting so much pressure on his molars. With the lecture from her father playing in her mind, Hermione stepped aside to allow Snape into the hearth. After it erupted in a burst of green flame, she stepped in, but not before putting the picture upright.

Hermione ducked low, stepping out of the fireplace, and dusted off her robes. "The password?"

Snape looked at her for a moment before crossing his office toward the door, "I'll show you where to go. The castle can be rather confusing for some."

"I know where it's at," she said. "Password?"

He considered her for a moment and finally gave a sharp nod, "Licorice Wand."

Hermione offered him a small smile, "Thank you."

As she stepped out the door, she felt cold fingers wrap around her wrist and she stopped, turning around to stare at Snape. He quickly removed his hand from her, as if her skin burned him, and wiped his palm on his robes.

"You'll make sure she stays safe?"

The question was hesitant, and barely audible above the creaking of the old castle, but still, Hermione nodded. "Yes. I will do everything in my power to keep them all safe."

He seemed to accept that answer and stepped away to sit behind his desk, waving her out.

Hermione made her way from the dungeons, jogging the familiar path up several flights of stairs and down many long, twisting corridors. She weaved her way through a few groups of students, some of which gave her a strange look as she passed by them in her muggle jeans and a t-shirt that was Remus', which she had tied at the hem to tighten it around her a bit. Still, she had to admit she must look very out of place to the students.

Finally, she reached the Gargoyle statue that guarded the Headmaster's office and Hermione looked over her shoulder before whispering "Licorice Wand" to the stone. With a low grinding sound, it moved aside, producing a narrow stairwell that spiraled up. She took the stairs, two at a time, and knocked her fist hard into the heavy, wood door at the top.

"Enter," Dumbledore's voice called from the other side.

Hermione pushed the door open and slipped inside, quickly closing it behind her. "Hello, Professor."

"Ms Granger," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling over half moon spectacles as he appraised her. "To what do I owe this pleasant, yet unexpected, visit?"

Hermione crossed the office, paying no mind to the several strange objects that gleamed in the afternoon sun. She sat in the chair directly across from him and pushed her hair from her face, taking a moment to gather her racing thoughts.

"I received a letter," she began, leaning to the side to pull the square of parchment from her back pocket. She unfolded it and held it out for Dumbledore to take. When he did, she continued. "Severus said the Death Eaters are running muggleborns and anyone who stands against them from their homes."

"I had come to that conclusion, yes."

"Then you see the problem?"

Dumbledore handed her back the parchment and folded his hands in front of him, on the desk. You need protection."

Hermione nearly laughed, "I'm not so much concerned for my well being as I am for the Potter's, who, as you know, live two doors down."

Understanding flickered in Dumledore's eyes and he nodded solemnly. "I have been considering our options when it comes to the protection of Harry Potter," he said. "It should seem, in light of recent events, that perhaps an Auror stationed outside of their home, and limited freedom to leave may not be quite enough."

Gee, you think? Hermione thought, trying to keep the sarcastic bite from her voice when she answered him. "I believe stronger means of protection are necessary, yes."

"I wonder, Hermione, if you are familiar with the Fidelius charm, and what it entails?"

Hermione nodded, "It's an ancient spell, making a location completely unplottable."

"More than unplottable," Dumbldore said. "Intangible. A location placed under a Fidelius, is essentially wiped from existence, except to the person, with whom, the location is made known."

"The Secret Keeper."

"Precisely. The Secret quite literally lives within the mind of the Keeper. The only way the location can be discovered is if the Secret Keeper themselves gives the information to another. The information may not be shared to anyone."

"You want to place the Potters under a Fidelius, then?'

"I think so, yes."

"A wise choice," Hermione said.

"I believe you may benefit from this level of protection as well."

"Me?" Hermione pulled her brows together, and shook her head slightly. "No, I don't think that's necessary."

"You've received threats to your home, did you not?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then I would assume, it would be irresponsible of me to extend a level of high protection to your neighbor, and not to you."

"I'm not the one they want."

"The letter you showed me would beg to differ."

"Severus said that all of the muggleborns are receiving these types of letters."

"That may be true," Dumbledore said. "However, all of the other muggleborns are not here from a different year with information that could bring the downfall of Lord Voldemort."

"Sir, I'm fully capable of protecting myself," Hermione argued. "Besides, what would happen with my research with Severus?"

"I'm sure Severus can manage. From what I understand, you have not been compliant in the completion of the memory potion you requested."

Hermione huffed and sat back in her chair, feeling indignant. "There's no need to continue it."

"I believe it should be finished," Dumbledore said, a small smile on his lips. "Let's call it a contingency."

Hermione pressed her lips in a firm line and clenched her jaw. "Contingency, sir?"

"I think so," he said, still as pleasant as ever. "You see, if you have decided you no longer are in need of such a potion, that provides me with an interesting bit of information."

"Such as?"

"You've either changed something beyond repair, have made the decision to change something, or both."

Hermione stared at him, feeling unnerved. She shifted in her chair, crossing her legs at the knee and picking at a loose thread in the outside seam of her jeans. She couldn't lie. It would be obvious when she stayed, that she was here longer than she should be. Dumbledore knew who she was and that she knew information he did not—not yet, anyway. "That Lord Voldemort knows your location, and if he knows your location, he will soon have the address of James and Lily Potter."

"Exactly," Hermione said. "They need protection. More than Moody or Frank sitting outside of their home."

"And you?"

Hermione considered him for a moment and then shook her head. "I'll be fine. Remus and I can fight off anyone who shows up to my home but—"

"—But, you are forgetting your place in this war, I'm afraid."

Hermione's brows knit together as she sat back against the tall chair, "Will all due respect, Headmaster, I don't think that it's possible for me to forget my place in this war."

"Isn't it?"

Dumbledore's tone was light and almost jovial as he prodded her, his brows raised into his hairline and an amused smile on his face. Hermione felt irritated by it, as if he was holding the punchline to some joke she didn't understand.

"If you would speak plainly, sir…"

His hands moved to steeple his thin fingers before he adjusted in his seat, sitting back against the throne and pulling a hand over the lengthy, grey beard. "Hermione, you are not from this time. Yet, you live among us as if you are, you fight beside us as if you are, and you love fiercely, as if you are."

She opened her mouth to speak and was cut off by his hand raising from his beard to stop her, a smile still firmly in place.

"That's not to say it's a bad thing. I quite imagine it would be rather difficult to live amongst people you knew in your own time and not connect with them. However, you were here on an assignment, the details of which are lost on me. And, it would seem, have become lost to you, as well."

"I know why I came here," Hermione said, flatly.

"I believe that over time, our motives become...skewed. While you may believe that the best place for you is here, I must implore the importance of keeping your original timeline intact—as much as possible, that is. If the Death Eaters have access to your home, it would be remiss of me to overlook that. While I am certain that Mr Lupin and yourself are perfectly capable of defending your homestead, it would be negligent to allow you to not accept the protection I am offering."

"You're going to force me into hiding?"

"I will not force you to do anything. However, I would strongly suggest you remain in your home and allow a powerful protection charm to be put in place. It is not only your life at risk, Ms Granger. It is the entirety of a timeline I have yet to see that is imperilled."

Hermione bit back the urge to snort. Of course, something as trivial as her own life was small in comparison to the timeline—to the greater good. She knew all too well what Dumbledore's "strong suggestions" meant, and she wasn't thrilled with the idea of being shoved into hiding. She knew her timeline was in danger if the Death Eaters were to find out who she really was—beyond a muggleborn fighting against them. But, she had so much work to do. So many things to stop from happening to ensure that Harry lived a happy and relatively normal life. Giving up her freedom was not on the list of things she wanted to do—not when she still had so much research to finish.

"Is that why you told Severus to finish the potion?" Hermione asked. "To protect the timeline?"

"The memory potion that Severus created will not only be of help when you finally leave us, but can change the way memory is altered. To use the charm to remove one specific person from ones memory is difficult magic—"

"I'm aware of how difficult it is," Hermione snapped.

"Then you are aware of how valuable a potion like this could be in the right hands?"

You mean your hands, Hermione thought, bitterly. "I will not hide in my home and wait for the storm to pass."

"Then it should seem that we are at an impasse," Dumbledore said. "However, I do not believe you are in the wrong to think that James, Lily, and Harry will need more protection."

"Blood wards would be beneficial, I think. There's a spell that—"

"A Fidelius Charm would be best, I think."

"I was supposed to be the Secret Keeper," Sirius said. His breath was ragged as he recanted what happened.

Professor Lupin looked at Sirius Black—torn robes and filthy faced—and a sad smile pulled his lips upward. Harry asked a question and Hermione barely heard the answer as she watched the men before her. Sirius Black was every bit as terrifying in person as he was on the front page of the Prophet. His dark hair was long and unkempt, matted at the back of his head. His eyes were sunken deep into sallow, greying skin and his collarbones protruded from beneath his robes.

"I changed it, last minute," Sirius said, his voice breaking through Hermione's thoughts, pulling her from her observations of him. "To Peter."

"Peter?" Professor Lupin asked.

"Forgive me, my friend. I was under the impression you were the spy. I should have never doubted my trust in you."

Hermione was slammed back into her mind from the strange memory. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose.

"No," she said. "No, we can't do a Fidelius Charm."

An eyebrow arched in question on Dumbledore's face. "There is no better way to ensure the Potters remain untouched."

"There has to be," Hermione begged, sounding pathetic even to her own ears.

"A Fidelius is the only charm that will hide them completely."

Hermione closed her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. Her chest felt tight. Nearly two years she had been chipping away at memories, trying to uncover the circumstances surrounding the death of her best friends parents—of her friends. And now, she knew exactly what happened.

Now, she just needed to know when.

.

.

a/n: Sorry the update is a little later today than usual. I've been fighting with a migraine today yaaaaay *eyeroll*

I hope you liked this chapter, I've been seeing a lot of theories and thoughts starting to come about what's going to happen, and jesus, i love reading those. Thanks for all the love you all constantly give me. The validation is very much appreciated *sob*

xo