Oddly, traveling through time for the three hours she'd needed seemed to take longer than it usually should have and the process was extraordinarily rough. When the world finally stopped spinning backwards, Hermione lurched heavily to the side as she attempted to reorient herself to her surroundings. The blood loss coupled with the exhaustion from weeks on the run intensified the dizziness associated with time travel. The overall world continued to spiral around her for several moments longer as a result.
The nausea caused Hermione to dry heave for a moment before being able gather herself. She staggered to her feet, and braced herself against a nearby tree. She first took stock of her surroundings to make sure she wasn't in any eminent danger. Her surroundings were unfamiliar to her. Strangely, the fallen log she'd been taking coverage behind had righted itself and now stood tall within the forest. She'd also noticed faint light breaking through the canopy above, which was odd to her. It should've still been dark and around one or two in the morning with the time she'd elected to return to.
Hermione felt for the time turner around her neck and realized then that it was broken, with the arrow still sticking out from her shoulder. With the log righted back up as a tree, the late afternoon light changing into dusk, and the longer than usual time, Hermione came to the conclusion that she'd gone back much earlier than she'd initially intended. Perhaps it was a day or so before the Battle, and in a few hours the other version of her, Ron and Harry would be breaking into then out of Gringotts. While not intended to have gone back so far, Hermione counted it as a small blessing. It would give her time to gather back some strength and prepare for the Battle ahead.
In regards to the arrow in her shoulder she'd thought it must have been shock at that point keeping her from feeling the wound. With the encroaching tiredness, she knew that she'd feel it stuck there soon enough. She mumbled obscenities under her breath at her situation.
There were no centaurs, Death Eaters, or acromantulas in sight. Hermione knew that fact could change at any moment though, so she'd have to be fast. She didn't have Bellatrix's stolen wand anymore to cast any charms that would help hide her. With the arrow still embedded in her shoulder, Hermione decided to quickly catalogue her other injuries. There was the slash in her leg from where Bellatrix had crudely carved into it. Hermione attempted to put weight on it and immediately cried out as her leg gave. There were various other scrapes and bruises, and she suspected she may have one or two broken ribs from a curse thrown earlier that night. There were also burns that needed treatment from the fiendfyre that she, Ron, and Harry were only barely able to escape from.
Harry...
It was the second time so far that her thoughts strayed towards her friends, but she couldn't think of that now. Hermione had to prioritize. As far as she knew at this moment both Harry and Ron were alive and well- anything but dead as her own time seemed to suggest.
Starting with the arrow, Hermione attempted to feel along the back of her shoulder as best she could to see if the head of the arrow was peaking out from the other side. The skin on her back there felt smooth and Hermione swore quietly. She'd have to worry about getting the arrowhead out later. In the meantime she grabbed a stick to bite into. She braced herself a moment and then broke off the end of the arrow sticking out of her shoulder. Hermione groaned in agony as it broke off and bit into the stick to cut out the worst of the noise she emitted.
Hermione then settled in with her leg and looked at it. Voldemort hadn't put much care into its treatment after he was done with the incantation. Flashes of the process came back to her. Her face pressed into the dirt, being held down by Bellatrix as her leg was cut open, Voldemort scratching something directly into the bone, and a murmured incantation that was too muted to hear. And then, the darkest wisp seemed to float from Voldemort's mouth as if it was being sucked out from a dementor. It danced whimsically in the air- tauntingly- before in a rush Voldemort directed the tattered piece of his soul into her own mouth and it forced itself down. She choked on it, gagging, as if her body had some choice in the matter.
It burned her nerves as if she was being electrocuted by lightning as she felt it settling in her bones. The part where Voldemort had carved into her some rune she couldn't see in particular seemed to be thrilled at such dark magic that she could feel making home inside of her. For several long moments she had thought she would suffocate from the magic.
In retrospect, breaking the arrow into two was nothing in comparison to the pain she felt from that. Even a crucio as Bellatrix was so fond of casting would've been preferred although Hermione shuddered at the thought.
As if it was being called, the dark magic she'd felt since that moment stirred within her. Hermione felt a blinding rage fill her intensely and the dire need to lash out with her magic before the feeling died suddenly. Without a wand the raging magic had nowhere to go unless it manifested as accidental magic- which would be the last thing that Hermione needed. Otherwise, Hermione hadn't gotten much practice with wandless magic although it was not for lack of trying. Her leg began to shake as the feeling started to return to it. How could she admit to anyone what had happened to her?
Hermione blinked away the disconcerting rush of magic and got back to the matter at hand. Whether it was because of Voldemort or Bellatrix or one of his other followers, the leg was half-heartedly dressed and appeared to already be steeped in blood. The gash was tender to the touch and Hermione thought it best to leave it alone for now. It would need to be redressed, but would have to do until she had the right supplies. There was nothing she could do to heal the would from the cursed blade faster anyway, as her arm could attest from its treatment at Malfoy Manor. She could, however, help with some of the other aches and pains she felt.
Searching through her beaded bag, Hermione grabbed a few different potions she knew would be of immediate use: blood replenishing, pepper-up potion, and a general salve that would help with both the burns and some of the lighter wounds. She took the two potions first, then spread the salves over some of the wounds she could reach. The salves stung for a moment before a soothing sensation replaced it. She stoppered what little was left and put them each away. She needed to retain some since she wasn't sure what she would need later. Hermione wasn't a healer by any means, and what little was done by then would have to do.
She couldn't spend anymore time there. The exposure was too great.
Hermione knew if she made her way back to the Castle that it would be crawling with Death Eaters, or students who would recognize her and question why she'd appear there at two separate moments of the evening in various appearances of disarray. She considered going to Hogsmeade for a moment, but with the wards that were surrounding it last time and with how many people that were fleeing through the village she knew she couldn't go there without being seen. She momentarily thought of the Shrieking Shack and immediately crossed that off of her mental list of ideas. Voldemort would breach the Shack first to get onto the grounds, hiding there wouldn't be the best plan.
The remaining light was beginning to fade fast and Hermione's weariness was catching up to her.
Both Hogwarts and Hogsmeade were too high of a risk, but without a wand or portkey where else could she go by foot? Which would be the lesser of two evils? The muggle phrase 'The Devil you know' came to mind and Hermione's mind set her course for Hogwarts.
She had more of an advantage there with the Marauder's Map, the secret passageways, and knew she'd rather risk exposure by a friendly face than a strangers even with the Death Eaters there. The ache in her leg was starting to numb and that numbness was spreading up her leg into her hip; she couldn't put most of her weight on that foot without the fear of falling so Hermione had to consider the distance she'd be able to walk on it as well. Hermione grabbed a larger branch from the forest floor and used it as a makeshift crutch. Each step was agonizing. Hermione thanked Merlin that at least the arrowhead still stuck in her shoulder was painless for now.
Hermione could only guess the direction to travel based on how thick the trees were as she was nowhere near Hagrid's level of familiarity with the forest. She walked one way first before realizing the tree trunks became thicker as she traveled in, and knew by that tell that the age of the trees must be older. The older that the trees were equated to the deeper into the forest she walked. She turned herself around and then walked back the way she came. Slowly (but surely) the method worked as the trees thinned out more and more until what must've been an hour or so later when she finally reached the forests edge.
Hermione was no where near Hagrid's hut, yet if she squinted she could see it some distance away from her. With how many Death Eaters there were occupying the school in teaching positions it wouldn't be prudent of Hermione to simply enter the school through the front door. Dark was nearly upon her now though. Most of the secret passages into the school were through Hogsmeade. The limp in her leg wouldn't allow her to walk that far. She'd have to go through the front door as there was no other option.
She hid behind some trees and slowly lowered herself to the grass. Hermione's best bet would be to wait until curfew was enforced as there would be less people to avoid in the halls. The map could only help so much if there was a swarm of students. As the grounds grew darker with the night and the moon shifted overhead, Hermione fought the heaviness in her eyes tempting her to doze off. She had to stay alert, even as her skin turned feverish and began to shake.
Hours past in that way until Hermione finally deemed it safe enough to move. A heavy fog rolled in and offered additional cover in the darkness. The mist clung to her clothing and dampened it, adding to the weight she'd already been feeling from the day. Her body felt like lead as she pulled herself once again to her feet and moved sluggishly towards the schools door. It was as if everything became a tunnel vision then, the world swimming before her eyes. She was dissociating from the present. One moment it seemed to her that she was by the trees, the next opening the door and inside Hogwarts once again. From there she only vaguely remembered pulling out the Marauder's Map and tracking where footprints dotted along across the page, knowing when and where instinctively to hide. There was little concern to Hermione about the moving paintings, though there probably should've been more. Hermione's body was on autopilot and each time she blinked it appeared as if she'd made significant progress deeper into the protective walls of the school, unaware of how she went from one place to the next.
The Room of Requirement was occupied by Neville and the other students taking refuge by this point, she recalled. She couldn't hide there. Returning to the Gryffindor common room would similarly end in disaster. Her stomach rumbled loudly, and her thoughts fancied hiding in the kitchens with the hundreds of house elves working. How eager would they be to feed her? In her haze, Hermione thought not to waste what little energy remained verifying this information. There was no time to lose when she could be discovered any moment. Hermione needed to not be seen, what was someplace everyone avoided?
Moaning Myrtle. The second floor girls bathroom. The Death Eaters wouldn't be able to torture, or likely withstand, the obnoxiously dead muggleborn.
It was clear to Hermione that Myrtle had already done her due diligence for the evening when Hermione made her way down the corridor to the girls bath. The whole hallway was flooded. Hopefully that would be another deterrence against anyone checking in on the bathroom there. She made her way inside and to the very same stall she'd hid in during her second year. Hermione clumsily locked it behind her, then groaned as her legs gave out and she sagged to the floor with a splash. Her head lolled loosely to the side, her body leaning into it until she was resting against the corner of the stall. The water was cold, her mind registered, but her whole body now was desensitized to the chill of it.
Hermione's mind warned her to stay awake. She couldn't afford to become lax now. The fogginess from the Hogwarts grounds seemed to close in around her even inside the sturdy walls of the castle. She couldn't fight off the weight of it anymore as her eyes closed. She knew she looked worse for wear and felt it too. Maybe a little rest would do her some good.
There was a nagging voice in her mind that was hard to ignore. Hermione wrote it off as she lost consciousness.
Hermione awoke with a start when the stall door she was leaning against was banged opened. Hermione hadn't been expecting the sudden shift and felt herself plunking hard onto the floor as the top half of her body fell back. She opened her eyes with a gasp and couldn't see much of anything at first since the daylight breaking through the bathroom windows blinded her. There was a dark face peering down at her, and a wand pointed at her. Hermione didn't know what the person calmly had asked her, she couldn't register the sound as her body tensed in preparation for action.
How much time had passed? This wasn't supposed to happen.
The threat was standing a foot up from where she'd fallen, holding the open stall door with one hand and pointing the wand at her with another. The floor was still coated with an inch or two of water. Hermione swiftly grasped the ankles on either side of the person, and yanked the legs out from beneath them. The stranger was caught off guard by the gesture and slipped to the floor as well. Hermione was drenched by the resulting water from the motion. The stranger's wand clattered to the side and Hermione used the opportunity to lurch to her feet.
She'd forgotten her injuries in her haste and nearly fainted as she swiped at the dropped wand.
A ghostly feminine voice screeched at her from the side, "An intruder! An intruder attacking students in the bathroom!" Myrtle, of course.
The stranger on the floor lunged at Hermione. "Petrificus totalus!" Hermione cried out as her body mechanically moved through the motions, and the wand begrudgingly cast the curse at its owner who froze mid-action.
Moaning Myrtle swooped down at Hermione and passed through her. Hermione's body rocked with the chill and uncomfortable feel of it as Myrtle reappeared on the other side. "Get out, get out, get out!" Myrtle shrilly exclaimed. Myrtle flew into the corridor and Hermione could hear her loudly bellowing into the hall. "Hurry, before another student dies in my bathroom! She's trespassing and attacking students! There's an intruder in the castle!"
Hermione didn't spare a moment to think on the fact that Myrtle didn't recognize her as she tore off down the hallway. Her legs could barely support the weight or movement, but what other choice did she have except her remaining will to keep going? To not be seen? Even as spots once again began to appear in her vision, even as her breathing began to get harder and harder.
There were footsteps behind her now, chasing. Were they friend or foe, she wondered yet again?
Hermione somehow found herself at the moving staircases, but neglected to remember the trick step. Her foot got caught in it and though her momentum carried her forward, her food held her back. There was a snap as her foot twisted painfully, and her body was thrown to the ground. She barely had the chance to scream yet again from the pain, and didn't know if she would even have the energy too if she could. Her head hit the side of the railings hard.
Dizzily, knowing she was losing consciousness as things faded in and out, she caught the eyes of one of her pursuers. It was a startling green, and oh so familiar. She would think it was Harry if it wasn't for the long reddish brown hair and feminine figure. The stairs pulled her away from the person before she could get a good look, and Hermione's eyes fell.