"I fear we will not walk away from this war victorious, Miss Granger." Hermione could imagine none more suited to take up the mantle of Headmistress than Minerva McGonagall, but she wagered it would take some time to become accustomed to seeing her former professor sit behind Dumbledore's desk, and not the headmaster who had led this school for longer than Hermione had been alive. McGonagall looked haggard, an appearance Hermione herself most likely mimicked. None of them had slept well, if at all, the night before. It would be only a matter of hours before Voldemort's army was upon the school, and they both knew many of the people they've come to consider friends will not walk off of that battlefield.
McGonagall had requested Hermione come to the headmistress's office quickly and alone, and Hermione had not the time to question it. Harry and Ron were both scouring the castle for any last possible clues of where the remaining Horcruxes might be, and Hermione should be with them, not here listening to what had to be an admittance of defeat. She never would have imagined the day would come when the proud woman before her went down without a fight, and she refused to consider today could be that time. There must be something up her sleeve. "Harry will find the other Horcruxes, Professor McGonagall. We just need to hold the Death Eaters off for a little longer and-"
"The Death Eaters will be at our gates within hours." McGonagall looked around the office, still cluttered with objects Dumbledore had spent his life gathering. In another lifetime, the disorganization would have drove Hermione mad, but now she looked upon the room in fondness for a heartbeat of a moment before her attention was once again locked on her professor. McGonagall stood so suddenly and swiftly it surprised Hermione, though she said nothing as she continued to watch the professor walk the length of one of the many bookshelves, not stopping until she reached a section made up entirely of unmarked boxes. It was the third box on the middle shelf that was plucked into wrinkled but steady hands, and a moment later Hermione was once again sitting across from McGonagall as she reclaimed her seat, the box now before them on the desk.
It was a rather nondescript box, mahogany wood making up the medium sized square. From where Hermione was sitting, there did not seem to be any indent where a lid would slide from, though she doubted whatever was in there would be in such a mundane box. A spell would most likely be required to reveal whatever object it housed.
McGonagall did not acknowledge the wooden box as she stared at Hermione, her head cocked to the side in a way that meant she was deep in thought. Luckily, Hermione did not have to wait too long before her professor said, "Miss Granger, did you ever take a moment to understand why Sirius Black grew into the man he was?"
"I-" Well, this was not quite what she had been expecting. Sirius had not been mentioned much in recent months, all of them much too busy on accomplishing the multitude of tasks at hand to mourn a lost loved one. If they did that for everyone who fell during these battles, they would have no time for anything else. "No," she answered a moment later, the hesitancy and confusion clear in her voice. A dead man, no matter how important he was to Harry and the others, was not something Hermione could waste time contemplating. But she did add, through the pang in her chest at the memories of Harry's love and excitement over his godfather, "He was a good man."
McGonagall nodded her head in silent confirmation, keeping quiet for a minute to take a sip from her tea. Hermione forced herself to do the same, her brain desperate for some kind of explanation to why Sirius Black needed to be mentioned here and now, when their focus needed to be on keeping those still living alive, and not distracted by those lost to them.
Dumbledore had been a good headmaster, the best, if anyone asked Harry, but he did have a habit of refusing to divulge all prominent pieces of information at once. McGonagall, luckily for Hermione, did not share her predecessor's habits, and did finally say, "Sirius was a member of the Noble House of Black, you are aware. A family that is vehemently anti-muggle, blinded by ideologies that only someone of their status is deserving of magic."
"What does this have to do with-"
The woman before her would not be persuaded to just spit it out, that much was obvious as Hermione resigned herself to listening to the entire story before McGonagall made her point. "Sirius was a Black, like Bellatrix and Narcissa, and was raised among a vicious sort of people his entire childhood. And yet he did not grow up to become a Death Eater like other members of his family. Would you venture a guess as to why?"
"He was sorted into Gyffindor, Professor, his heart was true and brave even if he didn't know it at eleven. He understood his parents beliefs were not right and-" even as she said the words, something in her mind snagged at her that she was wrong, that there was a piece of this puzzle she was still missing.
"What else, Miss Granger?" The tea cup in the professor's hand was set back on the small plate as McGonagall waved her hand in a 'continue, please' motion.
Stories about Harry's father flew through Hermione's mind as she took a moment to truly think about what the woman was saying. Harry had regaled Ron and Hermione with bits and pieces of what he had gathered about his father, about the whole group of boys who used to run through the castle and cause chaos nearly similar to how they did now. And then it clicked, and Hermione found herself smiling at figuring out the solution. "Sirius Black had James Potter, and Remus and Peter. He had friends who supported him, who loved him and showed him that what he had been taught was wrong."
"Andromeda Tonks, was in much the same position. She found love and sanctuary in Ted Tonks, and turned her back on the pure-blooded ways as well."
"What does this have to do with the war, professor?" Hermione had no time for a history lesson, as vital as she may have found it in any other situation. She should be with Ron, chasing down a horocrux or making sure the other students were prepared for the onslaught of the Death Eaters.
"An unfortunate fact, but you know as well as I do that Voldemort is a stronger wizard than you or I. He will use spells that none of us would dare utter, even in times such as these. His use of dark magic and his skills as a duelist make him dangerous, but his attention will be focused on Harry Potter. He is not the one we need to watch out for."
Hermione didn't feel the need to point out that the hundreds of dark witches and wizards headed their way were worth watching out for.
McGonagall continued on her own, and said, "Bellatrix Lestrange is going to be the most dangerous person on this battle field tonight, Voldemort aside."
The markings on her arm, still somewhat raw from the torture she had received, ached at the mention of the witch's name. Yes, Bellatrix was a formidable opponent, her undeniable skills amplified by her psychotic and unpredictable nature. During the hours of planning their defense, they'd all debated the various positions the woman could take up, though none of them could be sure if she would remain by her Dark Lord's side when he faced Harry, or led her master's armies to the front gates, always his faithful lieutenant.
"Many of us will not walk off this battlefield tonight, thanks to that deranged woman."
"Where is the connection to Sirius or Andromeda Tonks, professor? It is too late for Bellatrix to find any chance at friendship or.. or love, that is absolutely preposterous. Not to mention-"
"The time for Bellatrix Lestrange to make friends is long lost, you are correct indeed." There was silence once more as the two looked to one another, Hermione confused while McGonagall had a look as if she chewed glass. There was something she had not said yet, had wanted to hold off on until there were no better options. Clearly, that time was now, and so she said, "The time is gone, but perhaps we could get it back."
Professor McGonagall finally placed the object from the box onto the desk, in plain view of Hermione.
A Time Turner.
A sickly feeling was beginning to settle itself in Hermione's stomach as all of the pieces finally started to reveal themselves and slide together. It was an eerily familiar experience as Hermione's third year, when McGonagall had pulled her into her office then as well, and began a short praise about the young student's capabilities. 'The brightest witch of your age' never sounded so good as when it came from her professor's mouth just moments before she showed Hermione a Time Turner for the first time. She'd read about them in books, of course, but reading and seeing were two very different things.
McGonagall hadn't needed to explain the importance and dangers of using such a piece of magic, and thirteen year old Hermione had been so enthralled with being trusted to use it responsibly, not to mention the thought of taking more classes!
"I thought it was destroyed," she finally said, not moving to take the golden necklace out of the cushioned box it was centered in. She wasn't sure if it was the same one she had used years prior, or if McGonagall had somehow managed to come across another one. She would have been thrilled at the sight of it again, but it was only a moment later before understanding slid into Hermione's mind, as did the unsaid job McGonagall was entrusting her to do.
Reading that very same understanding, the professor continued with, "As always, I am asking too much of you, Miss Granger. But there is no other witch or wizard more capable of this mission than yourself. I know the history the two of you now share, the pain and suffering she has caused you," a gentle look at Hermione's arm at that, before she continued. "I taught Bellatrix while she was a student here at Hogwarts, and I do not belief that she was beyond redemption at that age. A bit misguided, and too enthralled with impressing her father, but still just a seventeen year old girl who needed someone other than her sisters to care for her."
"Professor, I don't-" What did she say here? As far as barely thought of plans went, and Hermione unfortunately was known for quite a few herself, this was terrible. There was no guarantee a Time Turner could even go nearly thirty years in the past, nor a guarantee Hermione could be safely brought back to the correct time, lest she wait and age thirty years in the past before coming back.
"It is far fetched, I am aware, and little more than a fool's hope, but at this point, is that not all we are running on anyway? Miss Granger, forgive me for saying this, but you know as well as I that our students, skilled as they may be, will be of little defense against such skilled Death Eaters, who have had years to hound their skills." McGonagall did not look pleased at the admission, and Hermione could begin to see the years of stressing taking their toll on the older woman. "Consider this- if you are able to not only prevent Bellatrix from joining the Death Eaters after she graduates Hogwarts, you will save your friend Mr. Longbottom's parents, as well as who knows how many other lives. Not to mention, perhaps if Bellatrix Black does not join the Death Eaters, she very well could join the Order. And you and I are both aware of what influence such a powerful witch could have."
"Professor, what you're asking me to do is-"
"As I have said, well beyond what any person your age should ever be expected to do. For that I am terribly sorry, and no matter the outcome of this war, the means we used will never justify the end, not in my mind. The Wizarding World cannot begin to thank the three of you enough, but we are not done asking the impossible of you quite yet." She frowned, and Hermione could tell that while she believed this was their last hope at making a difference, it was not a plan she wholly agreed with, whether it be her own or not. "Take an hour or so to think on it. I would not rush you otherwise, but we are in a time sensitive matter."
With that, Professor McGonagall dismissed Hermione from the Headmistress' office, the only sound that of the heavy door closing behind her as she left.
Hogwarts was in chaos, older students and staff alike running to and fro in preparation for the oncoming assault. The castle was not impenetrable, Draco and the other Death Eaters have proven as much, and before long their army would swarm the school. Unlike the others bustling around her, Hermione walked as if she were in a trance, her mind else, only one goal in mind right now.
Find Ron and Harry.
She needed to tell them, needed to explain the hazardous plan McGonagall was entrusting her to complete. And tell them, no matter how much they pleaded her not to, that she was going to do it. The professor had given her an hour to think about it, but she knew as soon as she stepped away from the gargoyle at the bottom of the stairs that she would agree to it.
It was a shot in the dark, the last ditch effort that put all of their previous extreme and thoughtless plans to shame, but she was going to do. Bellatrix Black was a murderer, a psychopath and a vile excuse for a human, and if Hermione had even the tiniest shot to change that, to save dozens if not hundreds of lives, who was she to refuse?
Hermione stopped a fellow Seventh year from Ravenclaw to ask him if he'd seen either boy in question, to which he shook his head and ran in a different direction. The next three people she stopped, two more students and a professor, were much the same. Panic started settling in her stomach at the thought of not being able to say goodbye to the two people who mattered most to her, even if rationally she knew that were the spell to go how it was intended, she'd be back to the same moment she left.
Except there was no guarantee with anything when it came to this plan. No books Hermione had ever read hinted at the possibility of a thirty year time travel, not to mention the fact that she was unaware the Time Turner could even go back so far. During her Third year she'd used it an hour or two at a time, and then three to save Buckbeak and Sirius, but that was all.
McGonagall wouldn't have suggested it if she didn't think it would work, the more logical part of Hermione's brain reminded her. No matter how slim, there must be a real possibility it would work. It had to. But if it didn't... she couldn't leave without telling Ron and Harry goodbye, and that she loved them, and so many other things that had gone unsaid between the three of them for too long now.
The giant clock tower chimed its loud tune, and she spun around, her eyes widening at the fact that she had wasted nearly fifty minutes wandering through the castle grounds now. She had no time, none at all, to tell the boys she loved them one more time. It wouldn't matter, she told herself, over and over again as she walked to the transfiguration classroom. It seemed fitting, somehow, to this in the same room she had first been taught by Professor McGonagall. The classrooms were all abandoned anyway, with no chance of someone interrupting them. For whatever her reasoning, McGonagall did not want others to know what was going to happen, save for had Hermione had the opportunity to tell Ron and Harry.
The Order did not know about this last ditched plan, nor did any of the Weasleys, or any of other professors. This is a secret that would stay between Hermione and Professor McGonagall whether she failed or succeeded.
"Miss Granger, you came." The professor's voice held an audible tone of surprise once Hermione stepped through the double doors of the spacious room. The transfiguration room had always been a more straightforward room, nothing like Divination, and much less crowded with objects like Defense Against the Dark Arts had. Just a few rows of tables now in disarray, and McGonagall stood at the head of the room as she had for so many years, her desk now flipped on its side, any papers or supplies long since discarded to the floor or somewhere else.
"Like you said, professor, it's our only chance of survival." Hermione sucked in a deep breath, her heart thumping and her hands shaking as she came to a stop only a few feet before McGonagall. "What happens now? How can we make the Time Turner go so far back?"
"We are going to use an enhancement spell, as well as a potion," McGonagall said as she handed Hermione the necklace, who hesitated only a moment before she slipped it over her head. The chain hung low against her once more, and she waited for further instruction. "If I am correct, the spell should increase the Time Turner's ability to replay time to a much further extent. I should warn you, Miss Granger, I have no knowledge of this ever have been completed before. For all we know, it could do nothing."
Hermione nodded her understanding as she took one moment to close her eyes, just for a second of peace. When she opened them again, her nerves had resolved themselves to steel, and she nodded once more to her professor as she said, "Tell... tell them I love them, so much." She knew it didn't work that way, that when she did come back, no time at all would pass, but she needed to say the words out loud, and McGonagall did not contradict her as she agreed. "Okay, I'm ready, professor."
McGonagall gave her a sad smile, her face almost disappointed, as if a part of her had hoped "You have always been such a brave child, Hermione." And then she handed Hermione a small glass vial, which she popped the topper off and swallowed immediately, trying not to gag. "I've been told that particular brew has an earthy taste to it." She wasn't wrong, the liquid was thick, and coated her throat, and overall tasted like wet grass. She might have laughed at the ridiculousness of it had McGonagall not began the spell, and so she forced her shaking fingers to begin twisting the dial backwards.
Going back this far in time did not feel the same as it had before. Hermione was reminded somewhat of apparition as her body twisted upon itself over and over again, but worse somehow. She felt too stretched at one point, but then much too squished together at another. The scenes before her were not the same either. Gone were the other people at Hogwarts moving backwards as she went through time, no sign of any life in fact. It was as if she moved too quickly to see anything. It was all a molted grey blur around her.
Just when Hermione thought she'd either vomit or pass out, everything came stumbling to a halt much too suddenly, and she dropped to the ground. Her body felt as if she'd drank one too many firewhiskeys and then jumped from the top of the Astronomy tower for the fun of it.
It took a moment for the sensation to disappear, but once she was able to get her bearings Hermione looked around and, unsurprisingly, found herself in the transfiguration room once more. There was no telling this scene a part from the very first time she walked through these doors as a First year, everything in its prim and proper place, though empty of any other living soul. In fact, had Hermione not left a thoroughly ravaged classroom, she would have guessed the spell and potion had not worked at all. The cleanliness of the room was proof enough that the spell worked, but now it came down to did it take her back to 1969?
Her next steps were clear- she needed Dumbledore.
No matter how much it would hurt to see the man alive and well in whatever time she was in, he needed to be her first destination. Nothing went on in this castle that he didn't know about, and it would be impossible for Hermione to spend such an undetermined amount of time here without him knowing about it. So, she squared her shoulders and began the familiar walk to the headmaster's office, her head on a swivel as she went in an attempt to prepare herself for running into someone else first.
The halls were thankfully clear as well, meaning it was either meal time or curfew, and given how even during meals students still milled about, Hermione figured it was the latter. That made her job somewhat easier, however now she needed to avoid Prefects, as they certainly would ask too many questions that she did not quite have the answers too just yet.
But someone must be looking out for her, because for all the minutes it took to reach the gargoyle guarding the office, she did not cross another person. That put an idea of worry into her head, because what if she was sent when Hogwarts was closed for break? There was no way to predict what day or time or anything she could have ended up in.
She refused to panic as she reached the gargoyle and-
And nothing.
She had no clue what the password could be. It changed so often, usually to some type of sweets, but there were an endless amount of possibilities and-
Hermione had just jerked her hand through her thick hair, and was very close to stomping her foot like a petulant child, when a voice she knew very well said from behind her, "Would you like to come up for a cup of tea? It seems there is a story you have for me."
It took everything she had to not seem shocked as she spun around and locked eyes with Professor Albus Dumbledore. He looked so alike to his future self that she nearly doubted the spell worked at all, save for the fact that he was still alive. Though she supposed that for a man as old as Dumbledore, thirty years was hardly anything. His hair was still grey, his clothing much the same as before, but even as she took him in she could see subtle differences. Less lines marred his face, and his entire persona seemed much less exhausted. The Dumbledore from her time was by no means weak, but years of fighting dark magic would wear on anyone.
"I have a fresh batch of cauldron cakes," Dumbledore said as the gargoyle slid to the side without any interaction, most likely recognizing its master as Hermione wordlessly followed the man up the stairs. He did not seem surprised or confused at her arrival as he took a seat at his desk and gestured for Hermione to sit across from him. "It isn't often we receive visitors past curfew."
"I'm sorry, sir, but-" she began, and then immediately cut herself off. But what? But she came from the future and was here on urgent business by Professor, now Headmistress, McGonagall to stop an insanely powerful witch from following dark magic in a poor attempt to defeat Voldemort? It sounded crazy to her, and she was the one living it. "My parents were under the impression you received our letters." Words started falling out of her mouth before she could even stop to process what all she was saying, but continued nonetheless. "I'm from-" think. Think, think, think. Just when her pause crept close to being uncomfortable, a half hearted and extraneous plan formed in her head. "Durmstrang, you see, and my parents desperately wanted my transfer to Hogwarts. They'd been in contact with the Ministry, who did approve of this all, and I thought you had been told. My train was delayed and so I only just got in. When no one greeted me at the bridge I started to wander."
It was all so far fetched, much too out there to be believed. She was sure Dumbledore would call her out on any part of it, and she knew there were so many parts he could question, but instead he nodded. A wave of his hand had two cups floating over to them, which he sipped from quietly as he stared at her. After a minute of silence, he sat the cup down and just said, "Ministry paperwork gets misplaced all the time. I was more than aware of your arrival, Miss- forgive me, what name are you going by?"
"Hermione-" another shot in the dark as she said, "Potter. Hermione Potter." She was too relieved to question the wording of Dumbledore's sentence as he just nodded again.
With a smile and a look on his face that Hermione knew meant there was much he wasn't letting on to, he waved an arm in a flourish. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Potter." As promised, the cauldron cakes were fresh, and so Hermione found herself eating on as Dumbledore went about completing whatever paper was required for her to began classes.
She was running on nothing but pure, dumb luck at this point as classes, Dumbledore kindly informed her, had only been on for one week now. Dumb luck indeed.
His silence did give Hermione time to think through what she had just gotten herself into, beginning with the choice of Durmstrang. She knew, should it come down to it, that coming from a school that prided itself on teaching darker magic and accepting on pure-bloods, it would do well to make her interesting when interacting with Bellatrix Black.
Claiming to be a Potter had been just a fast paced decision, one that offered her the best choice of remaining unnoticed. Potter was a pure-blood family, wide spread and frequently claimed enough that it did not permit it to be considered a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and hopefully gave her enough anonymity for what she needed to do. Potter would only become a problem years from now, when James and Lily join the Order of the Phoenix to destroy Dumbledore. But that was years now, and Hermione did not plan on being in this time line for long.
Or so she hoped, given that McGonagall had not been very forthcoming with details on her return.
Regardless, she needed to be a pure blood in this time. That much had been clear to Hermione since she accepted this mission. If Draco was any example to go by, Bellatrix would turn her nose at a mudblood such as herself. No, she could not be Hermione Granger in this year. She needed to be someone else entirely, someone her friends would not recognize, and most likely someone she herself would hate.
It didn't matter, she thought. She would do anything, be anyone, to keep those she loved alive and safe. She'd ruin herself completely, defy every belief she held dear, if it meant gaining Bellatrix's trust and getting her to denounce any Death Eater allegiances.
It was only Dumbledore's voice that broke her from her musings as he said, "I believe you'd do best in Slytherin House, Miss Potter," with that same smile that solidified any thought in Hermione that he knew more about her dealings her. Hermione would swear that if a wizard could be omniscient, then Dumbledore would be so. But he merely gave her a smile and said he'd have the Slytherin Prefect meet her outside the dungeons to give her the password to the common room, and sent her on her way. It was only when Hermione was halfway to her destination did she realize Dumbledore did not offer to have someone show her the way.
As Dumbledore had said, the Prefect was leaning against the wall, her dark robes impeccable and an obvious sign of her wealth, as were her nice quality, if not slightly scuffed, black shoes. Though Hermione could not see the girl's face, she imagined whatever pure blood mother this girl had would not be pleased at the sight of the shoes, nor would she enjoy how messy the girl's dark hair was.
And then the girl looked up at the sound of Hermione's approach, and she decided at it was definitely dumb luck working on her side recently.
Her Prefect was Andromeda Black.
The Time Turner worked exactly how they hoped. She hadn't been able to ask Dumbledore the year without making herself seem crazy, and so the whole walk from his office to the dungeons she could do little more but worry on if she were in the correct time line or not. Seeing Andromeda was all the confirmation she needed, and one of the many, many weights on her shoulders was lifted.
Though there was thirty years between the girl who stood before her and the woman Hermione would one day view as an ally during the Second War. Looking at the student before her, Hermione could nearly see the woman see the woman she would one day grow up to be. Andromeda's face was not as upturned as Draco's always seemed to be, nor did she hold herself in a manner that automatically screamed 'I'm your better, obey me'. That was a stance Lucius Malfoy was incapable of being without, but one that was noticeably absent in the way Andromeda perked once Hermione was close enough to her.
There was a surprisingly easy smile on the girl's pale face, her eyes just as wide and gentle as when the two first met, and so Andromeda pushed herself off of the wall and walked towards Hermione, her steps light and airy, a girl with little care in the world. "Hello, you must be Hermione." Her tone was as easy as her smile, though it did carried that strong lit of aristocracy that reminded Hermione more of Narcissa Malfoy. "I'm Andromeda Black, Slytherin Prefect."
She'd be a Fifth year now, if Hermione's math was correct- which she knew it to be. Bellatrix was two years Andromeda's senior, so this would be her first time as a Prefect, likely only having received the position weeks ago. It was no surprise Bellatrix had been skipped for the position, and Hermione knew Narcissa would not become one either, though the vicious woman would only be in her Third year in this time.
"Hermione Potter, it's nice to meet you." She stuck her hand out automatically, and did not fight the smile on her face as Andromeda shook it.
"Potter?" Andromeda cocked her head as she said the password to enter the common room, and continued once the passage way revealed itself. "As in Theodore and Charolette Potter? Any relation? Or to their son, James?"
"Distant relatives, I'm sure," Hermione choked out, having been wholly unprepared for Andromeda to mention Harry's father or grandparents. It shouldn't have come as a surprise for the girl to know the Potter's, as they were a wealthy pure-blooded family, though much less involved in the purity beliefs. Clearly the Blacks had some type of cordial relationship with the Potter's, a relation that would end either when James come to marry Lily, or when it was no longer deniable that the Blacks were heavily involved with Voldemort. "Do you know them, personally?"
"More in passing than anything, really. They come to galas occasionally, but for the most part keep to themselves." They're in the common room now, somewhere Hermione had never been, whereas Harry and Ron managed to sneak in once during their Second year, and eagerly described what Ron had called 'their enemy's liar' to her later. Their descriptions did nothing to adequately prepare Hermione for what she saw; the common room was breath taking.
Rationally, she expected nothing less from the house full of wealthy students, but given that it was in the dungeons, she had expected a bit more... murk and mildew. Instead, dark stone walls encased them, full of various notable witches and wizards who once claimed this house. Couches created half circles throughout the space, with low laying tables crowded with candles and discarded books. A tray of food was laid out against one of the walls, half eaten and forgotten by the students, but it was the windows that truly captured Hermione's attention.
Green was the color of Slytherin, and while she would never say the combination of the color with silver was better than Gryffindor's scarlet and gold, she couldn't remember a more beautiful sight than the windows stained an emerald color of the lake above them. There was no reason for the lake to have any sort of light in it, given the late time of night, but that did not stop the soft green beams of light from shining gently on the floor.
"Wow," she finally breathed out, turning in a circle to take everything in. The room was thankfully empty, however it would only be a few hours until students gathered once more and she'd be confronted with the hundreds of students in the house.
"Better than Durmstrang?" Andromeda teased, already making her way towards one of the many hallways leading from the main room. "Seventh years dorms are this way, and- oh! You'll be with my sister!" She laughed, the sound light and pleasant as she spun to stare at Hermione, and if she noted the widened gaze and tensed demeanor she made no comment. "Her name is Bellatrix, good luck with her. She definitely does not make my job as Prefect easy."
Say something, say something, Hermione berated herself, feeling the atmosphere slip from easygoing to uncomfortable with each passing second of her silence. At one point during the way Andromeda did turn to make sure Hermione continued to keep up, and she gaze what definitely had to be a pained grimace in return. Say something, idiot! "It must be nice... going to school with a sibling? Even if she causes problems?"
Andromeda didn't turn around, but from the soft candle light in the halls Hermione could see her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "Like I said, Bella is, well... you'll see what I mean when you meet her. I have a younger sister as well, Narcissa, but she's a third year and loathes anything that might face her disciplinary action." At the phrase, she did finally turn around, a grin on her lips that conveyed that while she may be a Prefect, the idea of disciplinary action did not scare her nearly as much as her younger sister.
It was odd, Hermione thought, staring at the girl before her and trying to connect her to the woman she would grow into. Hermione never thought Andromeda would be one to cause any sort of problems, but then considered she would never have guessed herself to do half of the things her, Ron, and Harry had gotten themselves into during their time at school. There was definitely more than meets the eye about the middle Black daughter, and Hermione did want to know her.
It would be easy to befriend Andromeda, she realized, something warm and welcoming about the girl's who disposition that would not make friendship a challenge. Perhaps she could use that to her advantage, as Bellatrix surely had to be around her sister often enough. That could be her way in, a chance to get to know Bellatrix and shift her viewpoints. Andromeda had done it with Ted, Sirius had done it with James. Hermione can do much the same.
"Here you go!" They came to a stop in front of a heavy wooden door, closed to keep the candle lights out, and the door opened on silent hinges with a wave of Andromeda's wand. "The last bed on the left is open, though I'd advise you to hold off on putting your belongings away until the morning. You wouldn't want to wake anyone up. It's the weekend tomorrow, so you'll have plenty of time." She took a step back, her intentions of returning to her own bed clear, but stopped once more to say, "I think you're really going to like it here, Hermione. Hogwarts is the best place to be." Then she waved goodnight, a sincere offer to give her a tour of the school in the morning and a promise to be there if she needed anything.
Sleep eluded Hermione that night, her mind much too restless to settle long enough to fall asleep, and so the night was spent tossing and turning as she figured out her next steps. More and more light entered the room as it reached dawn, with each passing hour bringing her closer and closer to meeting Bellatrix.
Finally, other girls started to stir, and Hermione could delay the inevitable no longer, so she moved from her bed as well to begin the day. A very small part of this felt like her very first day of Hogwarts all over again, little more than an eleven year old girl in an unknown predicament, surrounded by complete strangers. The wiser part told her that was completely bonkers, that she knew every single inch of Hogwarts, and she had more important things to worry about than the confused and judgment glances the few girls that were awake gave her as they walked by.
It didn't take long for the girls to approach her, asking her all sorts of questions from her name to her status to her previous enrollments, which she answered much the same as she did with Andromeda last night. One girl did ask why she waited a week to transfer over, as well as why she'd come so late at night, to which she hastily supplied some excuse about parents wanting her closer and a delayed train. Some of the girls were still asleep, and similar to her time at Hogwarts she assumed they'd sleep through breakfast in the Great Hall and simply snack until lunch. Ron had done it more times than he could count, even though he'd spent the rest of the day grumpy and irritable for missing lunch, and Harry and herself were known to oversleep occasionally if they had been up particularly late the night before.
She assumed one of the lumps in the bed was Bellatrix, as none of the girls that approached her before losing interest was the one she sought. So she dressed in Slytherin attire, her brain screaming that the robe and tie all wrong, that it should be scarlet, not emerald, against her skin, but she dressed all the same and left the dorm. Dumbledore must have had them sent up for her, or possibly Andromeda, though she couldn't be sure and did not want to question it.
The witch in mind was waiting for her in the hall, looking more or less still asleep but perfectly put together regardless, and she smiled upon seeing Hermione step from the room. Except it was not to Andromeda Hermione looked, as the girl was not alone.
No, that was very clearly Narcissa at her side, her clothing and robe as equally exquisite quality, her shoes scuff free unlike her sister and her hair shiny and flat as it fell down her back, not a single strand out of place. Andromeda made quick introductions, completely ignoring the disinterested look Narcissa kept on her face as the three of them walked back through the hall. Bellatrix oversleeping must be nothing new then, if they did not bother to wait for her nor attempt to wake her up.
Andromeda kept up most of the conversation as the three of them trekked to breakfast, Hermione lost in thought and Narcissa more or less glaring at her in the least subtle way. "Ignore her," Andromeda laughed at one point, when Narcissa was distracted for a moment by another Slytherin member. "She's actually quite lovely once you get to know her, I swear."
"I'll take your word for it," Hermione replied in what she hoped was a light manner, knowing from experience that the blonde across from them was not 'quite lovely'. So far, between the two sisters, it seemed very little would change for the youngest Black between now and her marriage to Lucius Malfoy. Save for a slightly more severe look on her face, Narcissa would remain the same judgment pure-blood she obviously was now. "I haven't met your other sister yet," she trailed off, hoping Andromeda would take the bait and talk about Bellatrix.
She did not disappoint. Andromeda laughed once more, something Hermione guessed she did often, and began talking again. "Bella's sleep schedule is horrendous. I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't meet her until this afternoon. If she doesn't have lessons or Quidditch then she's usually-"
"She plays Quidditch?" Hermione blurted out, taken very much by surprise at the revelation. Nothing about the psychotic woman she had come to, albeit hardly, know screamed she would be a fan of the sport. It must be something she either lost interest in with time, or gave up to serve her master.
Andromeda nodded rapidly as she gave Hermione a blinding smile. She must have a close relationship with her older sister, as it was clearly a look of pride on her face as she discussed Bellatrix's skills. "She's bloody good at it too! Trust me, when you meet her, it'll seem very out of her character, but she does love it!"
"What position does she play? Durmstrag has quite a few skilled players as well." Hermione let a bit of competition slip into her tone, thinking of Viktor Krum and his skills on the pitch. Whether that truly reflected all of the school's players, or just the one student, Hermione couldn't say.
"She's a Chaser, pretty aggressive one too. Steve- you'll meet him later, I'm sure- he's the Capitan, and he's forever warning her to take it easy."
"If you're discussing Bella, there is nothing in her nature that will ever permit her to be gentle." Narcissa returned to them at some point, her voice as flat as it had been when she welcomed Hermione, but the shake of her head was an affectionate gesture. Yes, Hermione thought once more, the sister have to be close.
It was almost a sad thought that in only a few short years Andromeda would be renounced from the Black line for falling in love with a muggle-born student. She would go on to have a daughter that the other two would never know, save for hearing whispers of during the War.
"She has practice this afternoon, sometimes we go and watch," Andromeda explained as they all sat down at the Slytherin table. Hermione hoped her gaze didn't appear too longing as she stared at the Gryffindor table beside them. It was only a few years ago she would have found herself there, gleefully eating with Harry and Ron, laughing as the latter was relentlessly teased by his brothers, before they dropped out and the mood at Hogwarts became much, much more somber.
"Not today," Narcissa said firmly, her entire attention locked on her older sister, who scrunched her brow in confusion. "Father is going to be here today, and Bellatrix does not need any sort of distractions. We are not going to practice."
Interesting, so very interesting. Narcissa was the youngest of the family, and yet she acted as if she were in control. Once again, it was all too easy to see the woman she will one day become. The matriarch of the Malfoy family, the only remaining member of the Black family to save face in front of so much pure-blooded judgment. Andromeda would disgrace herself, and Bellatrix would lose her sanity in her fanatic devotion to her Lord. Only Narcissa would remain unaffected, or as unaffected as one could be with her husband and son Death Eaters.
And the part about their father caught Hermione's attention as well, a fact that made Andromeda scowl into her eggs and bacon. Their father was Cygnus, a man renown for his rather harsh viewpoints on service creatures like the elves, and his refusal to acknowledge muggles as legitimate magic users. Hermione almost felt bad for being thankful he died. And this man was coming to Hogwarts today, assumedly to watch his eldest child practice Quidditch. A fact that, for whatever reason, did not sit well with the middle daughter.
Narcissa seemed indifferent to their father's pending arrival, but Hermione was convinced the other girl's face was incapable of any emotion aside annoyance or outright disgust, so she didn't put much weight to that. Instead, she let the conversation drop as she focused on breakfast, her own thoughts a whirlwind of information she had already gleamed in such a short few hours.
It would be a stretch to say Hermione had many peaceful days during her time at Hogwarts. It was a rare day indeed that Harry or Ron, or all three of them, were not doing one thing or another they most certainly had no business doing, and Hermione found her missing that as she walked through the library shelves.
Only a handful of other students were there, a few First years scouring the multitude of books for whatever information they lacked, and some older students who used the space as more of a hangout area than for any studying. Not that much studying needed to be done, as it was only the first weekend of the semester, and the professors had yet to get into too complex spell work and potions.
Not that Hermione was here to study any of her classes at the moment. No, her lone goal was to hunt for any sort of texts involved with time travel. There had been none she'd stumbled across during her own time at Hogwarts, but perhaps a professor had moved them in the last thirty years. She might get lucky and discover a text or two that not only explained the ability to travel nearly thirty years back, but also give some insight on how in Merlin's name she'd be able to make it back.
She had just found a book that could hold some information, the papers yellowed and the spine dusty from disuse, and was in the process of flipping through the pages when movement caught her eye. She was set to ignore it, focused on the peculiar passage she read about a man who claimed he traveled years into the future- completely preposterous, Hermione knew, but she wanted to read the paragraph anyway, when she saw who was in her line of sight.
Or rather, saw a blazer that could belong to only one person. Evidently, the man's love for oddly printed jackets and bowties was not a taste he developed later in life, as Horace Slughorn skimmed a section of shelves directly across from Hermione, dressed in an absolutely hideous brown and green blazer and yellow bowtie. There'd be another decade or so of him being Slytherin's Head of House before he retired, all because he is the reason Voldemort knew about Horcruxes. It was his negligence that had Hermione and her friends running all through Europe hunting them down just to have a shot of defeating the Dark Lord.
It wasn't necessarily the man's fault, Hermione understood that, but there was too much he had done that aggravated her, especially that bastardly Slug Club and-
Why hadn't she thought of this sooner? Hermione rushed to stand up, the action pushing her chair roughly against the floor and creating a terrible noise that garnered the professor's attention. He spun quickly as well, visibly surprised to see someone else in the library with him.
"Oh, hello." The smile he gave Hermione was charming, and she despised every second of it as she forced herself to calmly walk around the table and stand before him, the symbol on her cloak plainly visible as Slughorn frowned at it. "I don't think we've met, miss, and that would make me a terrible Head of House." That smile stayed in place as, with one hand he tucked whatever book he sought under his arm, and with the other held it out to give her a polite shake, which she did so with faux enthusiasm. "I'm Professor S-"
"Professor Slughorn, I know. Dumbeldore told me I should speak with you. My name is Hermione Potter." She jerked her hand back and crossed her arms behind her back, her posture straight and head back, a stance she had seen on Draco for years, as well as Narcissa all this morning. "Your skills are renown, Professor. You see, I just transferred from Durmstrang, and it was quite the disappoint to learn Potions isn't taught here to Seventh years."
Slughorn was quite obviously interested in being praised, especially if his name was supposedly being mentioned as far as the rival school. "Durmstrang, you say? What made you transfer here?"
"My parents just moved from Luxembourg to Scotland, and they pressed me to consider transferring here. I had to wait a week at Durmstrang for everything to be finalized, but I just couldn't pass up an opportunity to study at such an illustrious school."
"You seem highly intelligent, Miss Potter, and a pure-blood, I'm assuming? I'm sure that with time, Hogwarts will be the lucky one to have such a promising student." He looked around them, and finding the area they were in thankfully void of any more students, lowered his voice and said, "I can see a lot of potential in you. I'm pleased you've been assigned to the right House then." He frowned down at his watch at that point before giving Hermione once last smile. "I must be going now, but I'll be keeping an eye on you to make sure you hit every expectation such a House and status places on you."
Hermione gave him what she hoped was a subdued smile as she said, "I want nothing more than to impress you, Professor."
With that, Professor Slughorn left the library, and Hermione knew to expect an invitation to one of his upcoming parties soon. Being accepted into the Slugclub was just one more way to get closer to Bellatrix. She had already began to assimilate to her friend group, if just her sisters could be considered that, so she would do well to join a club that prided itself on the same doctrines the Black family so religiously followed.