Hello my lovelies,

For those of you following, I am reposting what I have previously written for a number of reasons. First of all, in the last chapter I updated (Ch. 12), I missed a very important detail that my muse decided the rest of the story hinged on. After spending way too much time trying to figure things out, I lost all of my motivation. So I stepped away from this for a while, and then decided to go back to the beginning to edit and repost the whole story. And after doing so, I just want to say thank you to everyone who ignored my errors. I've also removed most of my author's notes from the beginning of each chapter as they no longer make sense to keep. If you don't want to reread the whole story, the only truly new content other than fixing a few details, is towards the end of chapter 12 and any chapters posted after that. But I would suggest reading from the beginning as I find the whole story flows a little bit better now.

For those of you who are just tuning in; WELCOME! As always, nothing belongs to me. There are a few other disclaimers I should note before getting into the story. There will be violence, dark and gritties, and trigger warning worthy things. I'm not going to go into the details here as I don't want to ruin any surprises that this story holds. Romance is not a focus of this story, and I don't write graphic lemons. That is not to say that relationships don't play their role, and there is suggestive content ahead. As I am writing this, I have the story at a T Rating, but my views on such may be skewed as the first movie I remember watching as a child was Road Warrior (Excellent Film, much brutal, very wow). If you think the rating should be changed, please let me know.

I hope you enjoy what I have written. I began this story as a labour of love as it was the kind of story I wanted to read. As always, reviews are welcome and appreciated.

Hugs and Kisses,

Zsarah.

July 29, 1974

She walked on silent feet up the hallways she once called home as she readied herself for the last critical task in her plan.

The mid-morning sunlight was warm on the stone floors as she followed the pathways she knew like the back of her hand. She took a risk and ducked out of the light and into one of the corridors that would lead her to her destination quicker than the path she had been assigned. The lack of portraits left her feeling more secure even as the darkness caused an unnerving and otherworldly chill to run up her spine and settle at the nape of her neck. The shadows left her feeling paranoid as she contemplated where she was, and she almost regretted moving from her previous path.

She forced herself not to itch at her hairline lest she muss the perfect French twist that had taken a full hour to lay in a way that passed muster. From the perfectly styled hair pinned beneath her hat, to her shining, but worn boots; every inch of her appearance was planned to present the image she wanted the world to see. Her conservatively polished appearance and minimalist but obviously heirloom jewelry presented a woman comfortable with her status and birthright. The crisp pressed sable cloak worn over the sleeveless floor length shift presented her wealth and privilege. And the tall, sturdy leather boots peeking out from the high slits hand tailored into her robes, the thick belt holding a wand and sharp athame, and the few scars she chose to display showed her experience. All together, she looked like a witch born to and comfortable with her high society status, while not being afraid of the hard work it took to become an expert in her field.

Thinking through her preparation allowed her to press past the nervousness and focus her steps on the goal ahead of her. Her strides turned purposeful, as she stepped out of the shadows with a learned grace that came from familiarity with her surroundings and time fighting and running for her life.

As she shifted her emotions behind the glassy surface of her occlumency, her thoughts turned to the place she once thought was her safe haven and home. Once upon a time, she had thought the castle walls were an impenetrable shield. But this wasn't her home yet, and she was no longer that naive. She had been shown the fallacy surrounding her more than once in her youth, and with age and experience came the wisdom that this was just an illusion of protection that the young were both fortunate and disadvantaged to have.

When she was a child, she had thought that the danger lived outside, and that this fairy-tale come true would keep her protected. Now she knew the school housed something far more dangerous to herself and her plan than anything she would find outside the fantasy of sanctuary.

In a tower guarded by a gargoyle lived a man whose schemes had led to the ruin of the world she had come from mere months ago. There were dangers outside, yes; but they were the dangers that a wand armed with skill and knowledge could defeat. The danger within was of a different sort, and one she was not nearly as skilled in defeating. It was the danger of manipulation and politics; the belief that that one man could know the greater good for all. And the worst part; this man who played with lives as though they were chess pieces did so with a twinkle in his eye, a grandfatherly smile and the delusion that what he was doing was truly the right thing.

After three months of careful preparation, she was ready to take on the world, as well as Albus Dumbledore. With her thoughts carefully hidden and her references in hand, she walked up to the statue guarding the headmaster's office ready to end the set up of her plan and get started changing the future.

With her alias secure, contacts made, and information gathered; all she had to do now was get a job.

When the invasion of Hogwarts succeeded, those who were left alive after the second wave of attacks fled into the Dark Forest. They weren't many; a couple of dozen witches and wizards. Students, professors and everyday volunteers who had hoped to make the world a brighter place. They left the last stronghold of resistance after the death of Harry Potter; hoping against hope that they could win an impossible battle.

The first of those survivors to fall on their first night in the woods was Ginny Weasley, giving and taking life for the rest of them to survive. Her death was the catalyst that gave them all hope tinged with cynicism that they could survive long enough to turn the tide of the war.

So the motley group, hidden within the confines of the forest and fleeing between safe-houses, hunted, chased, and tortured; cobbled together a plan to send one of their own back to before it got this bad.

And with the deaths of Luna Lovegood, Victor Krum, Hector Dagworth-Granger, Dennis Creevey, George Weasley and Filius Flitwick, seven years after their planning began, Hermione Granger found herself in the same place she started, the middle of the Dark Forest on May 2, 1974 thirty years from the future she had left behind with just over three months to prepare.