Chapter 3: Impeccable Memory


"What we need," said Dumbledore slowly, and his light blue eyes moved from Harry to Hermione, "is more time."
— Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, J.K. Rowling


Pain.

The pain hit me unexpectedly with the force of a well-placed hex.

But I knew this pain. I'd encountered it once before. The after effects of the Cruciatus Curse throbbed throughout my body, sizzling along my every nerve. I tried to call out—whether in pain or for help, I wasn't sure—but my lips wouldn't budge. My eyelids were heavy. My body seemed to be made of lead.

Suddenly, my mouth was gently opened, and a warm liquid was coaxed down my throat. Surprisingly, I didn't cough or sputter. Magic really helped things along, I reckoned.

"What do you think happened to her, Headmaster?" a familiar voice whispered nearby. A warm cloth was placed across my forehead as I felt the effects of the pain potion spread. "How did she get inside the castle?"

The dreadful throbbing was slowly replaced with a pleasantly warm tingle. I sighed internally with relief.

"I haven't the foggiest, Poppy," Dumbledore said quietly. "No doubt she'll have quite a story to tell when she wakes up. What is the extent of her injuries?"

"She almost certainly has endured the Cruciatus Curse more than once. Multiple lacerations covered her torso and face, and glass was embedded in the wounds, along with some sort of sand-like substance. I've cleaned them the best I could, but the sand wouldn't budge. I've tried every spell I know, but nothing will heal them properly." Frustration leaked into her professional tone. "There was also a circle of metal melted into her skin. Gold, from what I can tell. I've managed to remove all traces of it, but it will leave a very curious scar."

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied thoughtfully. "The poor girl has been through quite an ordeal."

"That's not all, Headmaster. I healed numerous minor cuts and bruises. There is also evidence that she's been in contact with various dark curses within the last 24 hours. There were recently treated burns covering her body, unquestionably from the Flagrante curse. It leaves a certain residue behind, as I'm sure you know." She took a deep breath, "But the most alarming is her older wounds; the ones that have already healed—look at her left arm, Albus." Madam Pomfrey seemed to be on the verge of tears.

I mentally cringed. I guess I won't be hiding that particular scar from Dumbledore. The blanket covering my arm was shifted, and I felt Albus Dumbledore's long fingers trace the angry red lines of the crudely carved word marring my skin.

"You're quite right, Poppy," he murmured softly. "This is certainly disturbing. Do you know why it would heal in such a manner?"

"Cursed, I would imagine. The poor girl," Madam Pomfrey sniffed. "Do you know who she is, Albus?"

"I have few ideas," he replied vaguely. "When do you think she'll wake?"

"I've just given her a simple pain potion, so the only factor that seems to be keeping her asleep currently is her own mind attempting to mend itself. She could wake at any moment," she responded.

"And you'll send for me the moment she does?"

"Of course, Headmaster."

Dumbledore exited the hospital wing, his high-heeled boots clicking against the stone and robes swishing quietly.

"What is your story, you poor, poor girl?" I heard Madam Pomfrey sigh as I drifted off to sleep once again.


The next time I woke, it was to quiet voices a few beds away from mine. Thankfully, this time I found I was able to open my eyes. Thank Merlin, the dreaded blackness was finally gone. Light was streaming through the open windows of the hospital wing, and I blinked quickly as the pale pink light of dawn filled my eyes.

"How are you feeling, Moony? You slept all day yesterday."

Ah, of course Remus is here too. It was a full moon when I arrived. I turned my head a little to the right, attempting to get a glimpse of them. The curtains were drawn around Remus's bed, but a small gap gave me a decent view of the two teenaged wizards.

"No worse than normal, Padfoot," Remus replied, and then hesitantly asked, "How was I?"

Sirius waved his hand dismissively as he replied. "A little harder to keep in line without Prongs, but nothing I couldn't manage. I did get a nice whacking by the Willow, though. Poppy vanished the branch she used, and without Peter, I couldn't freeze the tree." He reached up and rubbed the back of his head, where the Whomping Willow had apparently left its mark.

Remus laughed. "Sirius, are you a wizard or not? Why didn't you just levitate another branch to the knot?"

Sirius grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't think of that, honestly." His tone then changed abruptly and he lowered his voice further. "But anyway, something strange happened after I left the Shack yesterday morning."

Remus raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Shit.

I closed my eyes until there was only a small sliver remaining through which to see. I didn't want them to notice I was awake.

"I was walking through the Entrance Hall on my way back to the tower. The doors to the Great Hall were open, and right as I was passing, this bizarre light came out of nowhere. Filled the whole goddamn room! It was like a flash of lightning or something. Nearly shit myself."

Remus was now looking at Sirius with his mouth gaping.

"And that's not even the craziest part. Once the light was gone, there was a girl in there. Just lying on the ground at the end of the Ravenclaw table. Looked like she'd been through hell. Covered in blood and moaning and shit. I ran in to help her, and the poor witch could barely move. All I could do was pick her up and carry her here. She's in the bed down there at the end," he finished, gesturing in my direction.

Remus was still staring with his mouth open. He finally seemed to get a grip on himself, and asked Sirius, "Do you know who she is? A student? Teacher?"

"No idea, mate," Sirius replied with a shrug. "I didn't recognize her, but she can't be older than seventeen or eighteen. She looked to be about our age. But I've never seen her around the castle, and you know I have an impeccable memory when it comes to pretty birds. "

"Impeccable, Padfoot?" Remus snorted. "Word of the day?"

"Actually, it was last Tuesday's. I'm a bit behind," he replied dismissively. "Now stop getting off topic. There was something else weird about her too…" he trailed away, as if trying to find the right words.

"What?"

"When she first saw me, she had the strangest look on her face. Almost like…" He glanced in my direction, and I quickly closed my eyes even more. "Like she knew me. Like recognizing an old friend you haven't seen in ages. It was almost like she was shocked to see me. Me, specifically…" His voice died away again. "I don't know mate, but it was mad as hell. You know what was the first question she asked me? The fucking date. Specifically the year. She must've hit her head pretty hard."

"What happened to her, though?" asked Remus. "You can't apparate inside the castle, so how the hell did she get in?"

Sirius shrugged again. "No fucking clue. But whatever happened, it must have been horrible. She looked like shit—clothes torn, covered in cuts and bruises, blood everywhere. Looked like she'd just come off the wrong end of a fight with a Hungarian Horntail. She passed out while I was carrying her here. At first I thought she had died. Scary as hell. Madam Pomfrey sent me to fetch Dumbledore, but then wouldn't let me back in to see her. I'm only here now because I promised not to leave your bedside."

As if summoned by the sound of her name, the door to Madam Pomfrey's office opened and she hurried into the ward. "Ah, Mister Lupin, good to see you're finally awake," she said as she drew back the curtains surrounding his hospital bed and placed a tiny vial of potion and a goblet on his bedside table. "How are you feeling this morning?"

Remus flashed a winning smile up at Madam Pomfrey. "Oh you know me, Poppy. All I need is a few hours of sleep and a pain potion or two."

Poppy? Merlin, is Remus flirting with Madam Pomfrey? I expected that from Sirius, but Professor Lupin? Sirius snorted, and even I couldn't hold back a smile.

Madam Pomfrey scoffed. "A few hours, Mister Lupin? A day and a half would be more accurate. Oh, and look who else is awake! How are you, Miss...?"

I jumped in surprise at being addressed. Apparently my smile hadn't gone unnoticed. Madam Pomfrey was striding toward me, wand out. I had to remind myself not to pull out my wand too. She was only performing diagnostic spells, but I still hated looking down the end of anyone's wand.

"Miss?" she asked again.

I blinked up at her.

"Yes?" I croaked. My throat was still raw from screaming.

Her voice was gentle. "Your name, dear?"

"Oh."

Shit. My name. I couldn't tell her my real name. I shouldn't even be talking to her! Wincing slightly, I sat up slowly, playing for time as my mind raced through my options.

"Dumbledore. I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore. Immediately, please."

She looked surprised, but replied with a nod, "Well certainly. I was about to call for him, actually."

"Thank you!" I called to her retreating back as she returned to her office to Floo the headmaster.

I sank back into my pillows, sighing. A cough to my right made me to jump again. I turned to find Sirius and Remus staring at me.

Sirius was the first to speak.

"Are you okay? You look a lot better than you did. I mean, not that you looked bad or anything. Okay, well that's a lie—you looked like shite, all bloody and everything. I sure hope the other bloke looks worse! Er, okay, maybe that was a bad joke." He ran his hand through his hair as he spoke. "I don't know if you remember me or not, but I was the one that found you yesterday morning. In the Great Hall. After you…" he faltered. "Um, appeared. I carried you here. So how are you? How are you feeling?" He was beginning to move toward my bed, eyeing me earnestly.

I laughed. A full, hearty laugh that rose deep from within my belly and reached all the way to my eyes. It felt so refreshing, just like laughing with Harry and Ron on the bank of the lake after jumping from the dragon. Christ almighty, was it only two days ago that we broke into Gringotts?

Or I suppose it's actually more than twenty years in the future.

No. Don't think of that now.

I mentally shook away the thought, and addressed Remus. "Does he always ramble like this?" I asked, my eyebrows raised in question.

Remus stopped looking surprised at my odd behavior, and began to laugh too. "Only when he's nervous. It doesn't happen very often, so you should feel honored."

Sirius scowled at his friend. "I'm not nervous, you dick. I just want to know how she is." He turned back to me. "You did look pretty rough yesterday, though." He was at the foot of my bed now. Sweet Merlin, this wizard was beautiful.

"Yeah, I know I must have been quite a sight. I'm feeling much better now though, just a bit sore. Thank you, by the way," I said, locking eyes with him. My heart felt close to bursting as I stared into his eyes and didn't see the haunted, dead look of Azkaban behind them. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't helped me."

"Of course! I'm just glad I was there. It's summer still, you know. The term is about to start, but there aren't a lot of people in the castle yet. I've been here for nearly two weeks already, though—Transfiguration internship with Professor McGonagall. And Remus here was, er—feeling under the weather—and there's nothing Poppy can't fix. Oh shit, did I even introduce myself? I'm Sirius Black, and this is my best mate, Remus Lupin."

I laughed again at his rambling. "It's nice to meet you, Sirius," I said, and then turned to Remus, willing my heart to unclench at the sight of him, young and whole and alive. "And you as well, Remus. I'm, er—"

But thankfully, I was saved from having to introduce myself, for at that moment, Professor Dumbledore entered the hospital wing. Sirius backed away from my bed, returning to Remus's bedside.

Dumbledore strode in wearing robes of deep violet with gold trimming, smiling at the sight of me sitting up. "Ah, good to see that our visitor is awake. How are you feeling, my dear?" he asked as he reached my bedside.

Oh, it was so good to see Dumbledore. His blue eyes twinkled characteristically over his half moon spectacles as he look down at me. No matter my feelings toward future-Dumbledore and the clusterfuck he left us in, his presence was always comforting.

"Much better, sir. Thank you. Um…" I motioned for him to come closer, lowering my voice as he bent his head. "Would it be okay if we talked privately? It's extremely important."

"Of course. One moment." He pulled out his wand from the inside pocket of his robes and pointed it at the curtains surrounding my hospital bed. They slid shut, hiding us from view. I grabbed the walnut wand—no my wand, I reminded myself—from the bedside table, and pointed it in the direction of Sirius and Remus.

"Muffliato," I murmured. I certainly didn't need them hearing this conversation. Dumbledore conjured a squashy lilac-colored armchair, and settled into it next to my bed, eyeing me with rapt attention.

I pointed my wand directly at his head.

"Professor Dumbledore, I'm terribly sorry about this, but I need to ask you a security question to prove it's really you. Standard protocol, please understand…"

Godric, he's going to think I'm absolutely mental.

"But er, what is your favorite flavor of jam, sir?"

Dumbledore stared at me with an amused expression. "Raspberry, my dear."

I sighed in relief. I knew I stood no chance of besting Dumbledore in a duel, but things were already fucked up as they were. I didn't need my situation going even more sideways by spilling my secrets to an imposter. I silently thanked Harry for sharing that seemingly unimportant bit of information with me.

"Thank you, Professor. Now, I know this is going to sound extremely far-fetched, but please, I need you to try to keep an open mind. I—"

He held up his hand. "First, I believe we should begin with your name."

I bit my lip worriedly. "Actually, Professor, I'm not so sure that's a good idea. Um, well, you see, I can't tell you my real name for the same reason that I appeared in the Great Hall two nights ago."

Dumbledore didn't look angry at my refusal. On the contrary, he looked positively intrigued. "And your reasoning behind this assumption?"

I licked my lips, contemplating how to best to proceed.

Oh, sod it all.

"I was born on September 19, 1979. I began my first year of Hogwarts on September 1, 1991. If I'm currently where I think I am…" I paused for a moment.

Just say it, Hermione.

"Then I'm from the future."

Dumbledore didn't look surprised at this revelation. Instead, he nodded. "Yes, yes, I thought it might be something like this."

I gaped at him.

"It is impossible to apparate within the walls of Hogwarts, as I'm sure you know if you were—or perhaps I should say if you will be—a student here. The castle's protective enchantments were not breached the night you arrived. The only way you could have materialized within the Great Hall as you did was if you were already inside the castle. Do you understand?"

I nodded. "I think so, sir."

"Good, good. So, where to start," he hummed to himself, thinking. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt for you to tell me your name. I can't imagine it altering anything beyond what your arrival here has already."

"Yes, sir. Well, my name is Hermione Jean Granger. I'm a Muggle-born. And for me, two days ago it was May 2, 1998."

His eyes widened as he grasped just how far I had travel, but I ignored it.

"But sir," I began before he could respond. "What do you mean 'alter things more than I already have'? I have a good bit of experience with time travel. Professor McGonagall gave me a Time Turner during my third year of school so I could take extra classes and do hours over again. I know the rules of time travel, and one of the most important is you can't change the past."

"Oh!" he said, clapping his hands together. "Minerva lent you her Time Turner? You must be an exceptional student, Miss Granger."

I flushed slightly and smiled at his praise. Time may change, but Hermione Granger is still the same witch.

"And as for your question, I have a few theories, but nothing more than conjecture at this point, I'm afraid. However, I think learning the circumstances surrounding your jaunt back to our time might help to clarify a few aspects of your situation."

"Well, sir, there was…" I paused, my eyes glazing over slightly as I recalled my future. "A battle. Here inside the castle. Death Eaters infiltrated Hogwarts. Voldemort wanted Harry desperately, and Harry needed to find an important object within the school. Oh, but you don't know why he wanted Harry yet, do you? We'll have to get to that later. But, there was a battle. A horrific battle. So many died, Professor. Members of the Order, my friends, those that were more than family to me—all of them incredible witches and wizards—gone."

Harry and Ron's faces swam to the front of my mind and a tear made its way down my cheek.

I took a deep, steadying breath, swallowing the swell of emotion, and continued. "I was one of the few left. But then I killed one of his most faithful followers. Riddle was absolutely furious when he saw what I had done. Before I had time to do anything but watch, he cast the Killing Curse. I thought I was finished." I shuddered as I recalled the speeding jet of green light. "Tom Riddle rarely misses when the curse leaves his wand. But it didn't hit me."

I reached over and retrieved the delicate golden chain from the bedside table. The tiny hourglass was completely obliterated.

"It hit the Time Turner that was around my neck—Professor McGonagall's Time Turner. When the curse made contact with the glass, it exploded. Glass and Time Sand went everywhere and the gold setting melted entirely." I reached up to my face, tracing one of the small scars I knew must be shining there. "There was this strange golden light. It completely surrounded me, brighter than anything I'd ever seen. And then I began flying backwards, but not like you normally would when using a Time Turner. It was different. Much faster, and much more brutal."

I shivered at the memory.

"But suddenly, it stopped, and I was back in the Great Hall. Except now, Sirius was there, alive, helping me from the ground and telling me it's 19-bloody-77."

Dumbledore's face had gone white. "Death Eaters. Voldemort. In the castle…?" he whispered. "The future is far more grave than I could have imagined."

I nodded sadly. "Sir, that isn't even half of the horrors to come."

Dumbledore sighed, and began to massage his temples. "Oh dear, dear…"

"And, er—sir?" I asked, interrupting his contemplation.

Dumbledore looked up.

"Do you think there is any way for me to return to my time? I've never read of someone traveling this far into the past—except for Eloise Mintumble, but that was a right disaster—and well, I've never heard of any methods of traveling forward in time, either."

I held my breath as I waited for his response. I didn't want to go back.

Harry's body—lifeless and broken.

Ron falling to the ground—my Ron.

There was nothing left there.

Dumbledore sighed again. "Miss Granger, how much do you know regarding the Sands of Time?"

I scrunched up my nose, thinking. "Well, not very much, I suppose. There's not a lot of literature available to the wizarding public on it, is there? It's studied intensely by the Department of Mysteries, so the information is kept closely guarded. In the wrong hands, the results could be devastating."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "Correct. However, there are those outside of the Unspeakables with knowledge of the Secrets of Time."

My eyes widened. I had an idea of where this conversation was going.

"Right now, there is only one person alive that fully understands the complexities of time and of the coveted Sand that allows us to move along its strands. That person is the creator of the Sands of Time, and the inventor of the Time Turner. He's also one of my oldest friends. The alchemist, Nicholas Flamel."

I gasped. "The only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone?"

Sweet Merlin, that statement certainly brought back memories.

Dumbledore nodded again. "The very same. I'm glad you know of him. Alas, Nicholas and Perenelle prefer a quiet life these days. There are very few he fully trusts. I am delighted to say that I am able to count myself amongst them, and my dear friend has chosen to share certain bits of his research with me."

"So does that mean you have an idea on how I ended up here?" I inquired hopefully.

"I have a theory, yes. But before I can say with any certainty, I must confer with Nicholas."

Nope, not enough. I needed more information than that.

They didn't call me an insufferable know-it-all for nothing, after all.

"But sir, no one has ever safely travelled this far back in time! Five hours has always been the limit; any further could result in dire consequences." Dumbledore nodded gravely, allowing me to draw my own conclusions. "You said my presence here has already altered things. Does..." I took a deep breath, hardly believing the question I was about to ask. "Does that mean I have the ability to change the past?"

Dumbledore looked into my eyes as if searching for something. Which, he probably was, I reminded myself. Successful Legilimens and all.

I didn't attempt to close my mind to him. I had nothing to hide whatsoever.

"Yes, Miss Granger," he said quietly. "I believe the moment you left the Great Hall in 1998, your future was essentially obliterated. The future is no longer set in stone for you. The Strand of Time you had been traveling upon was snipped when you arrived here in 1977, and is now being rewoven as each second passes."

I felt sick. I sank back into my pillows, breathing heavily as the hospital wing began to swirl in front of me.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, before patting my hand soothingly. "I think that is enough for today, Miss Granger. I'll allow you get some rest." He stood to leave, vanishing the lilac armchair with a swish of his wand.

I sat up again, startled by his abrupt departure. "Wait, but sir! What am I going to do here? In 1977, I have nothing. No home, no family, no money…"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Why my dear, you're going to attend Hogwarts, of course. I assume you were in your seventh year?"

I nodded. "I've completed up until my sixth. I wasn't able to attend my seventh year due to—well, frankly sir, my two best friends and I were completing a task you assigned us."

"Well then, I believe I owe you a completed education!" he said, sounding positively delighted at the prospect. "Hogwarts has funds available to those in need. And as for family, I have often found over the years that you can find loved ones in the most unlikely of places." He paused, then added, "I think it will be acceptable to tell others your name, but please, keep your true origins closely guarded, Hermione. There's no need for me to tell you the danger you would be in if the information were to spread to unfriendly ears. Now, I believe Poppy has some potions for you, so let's not deprive her of her duties any longer. We'll speak again tomorrow. Goodbye, Miss Granger."

Without waiting for my response, he turned and flicked his wrist at the curtains surrounding my bed, which slid open. His robes billowed behind him as he exited the hospital wing.

I blinked at the closing door. Well, that's that, I reckon. Sighing, I looked around at the rest of the ward. Sirius was still here, lounging in a chair next to the bed where Remus was dozing. His shoes were kicked off, and his feet were propped on the bed beside Remus, one foot shaking restlessly. I stifled a giggle as I noticed his socks.

Scarlet and patterned with golden snitches.

Oh, if only Harry could see this. They were more alike than Harry ever knew.

Sirius was looking at me over the top of his muggle motorcycle catalogue. "Everything okay?" he asked, eyeing me closely.

I smiled at him and nodded. "Yep, everything's fine." I licked my lips—I might as well go ahead and get it over with. "I don't think I got a chance to introduce myself earlier. My name is Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger."

My heart beat a little faster as Sirius grinned back at me. "Lovely to meet you officially, Hermione," he said with a little salute. "Are you hungry? Poppy just came by and said that Remus's breakfast will be up soon."

Now that I thought about it, I noticed my stomach had been growling incessantly. I hadn't eaten anything since before the battle. "Famished, actually," I replied, returning his grin.

He stood, sliding his feet back into his unlaced high-top trainers. "I'll let her know. Be back in a bit." He flashed another smile at me before turning to leave.

The sun had fully risen now, and I leaned back into my pillows once again, staring out the window at the high treetops of the Forbidden Forest. An owl swooped low over the swaying branches before rising and slowly disappearing from sight.

This is utterly bizarre, I thought to myself. I'm currently lying in a bed in the Hogwarts hospital wing—in 1977—with the younger counterparts of my best friend's escaped convict godfather and my former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Hogwarts was still pristine and whole, nothing like the war-torn battlefield I'd left behind. I pictured the destroyed, curse-riddled corridors and the bodies lying in rows in the Great Hall.

I choked back a sob.

Sirius returned, followed by Madam Pomfrey who was carrying a handful of potion vials. Her wand was out and pointed at two breakfast trays floating along in front of her.

"Now Miss Granger," she stated briskly as she placed several vials of potion on my bedside table. She neatly levitated a breakfast tray onto both Remus's bed and mine in turn. I assumed Sirius had relayed my name to her. "Please, eat up. You are alarmingly malnourished."

Yes, living off scavenged mushrooms and wild berries will do that to a witch, I thought dryly. Although Fleur had provided the three of us with many home-cooked meals during our short stay at Shell Cottage, we had often forgone dinner, instead choosing to remain hidden away in the smallest bedroom with Griphook, plotting our bank heist for hours upon end.

"Er, yes. I haven't really had much opportunity for proper meals lately…" I replied, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room. I was extremely grateful she chose not to respond.

Remus had finally fully awoken, no doubt due to the smell of bacon wafting throughout the room, and was heartily tucking into his own breakfast. I supposed his transformations left him ravenous. I looked down at my own tray, and despite my pangs of hunger, a fresh wave of nausea washed over me and I suddenly felt terribly exhausted again. The pain was beginning to return.

I picked up a slice of buttered toast and nibbled on the edge, willing my stomach to knock it the hell off. I attempted to take a sip of my pumpkin juice, but apparently it was an even worse idea.

I pushed away my tray.

"Er, Madam Pomfrey?" I called to the matron, who was changing Remus's bandages. She flicked her wrist and fresh bandages began to wind their way around the wound on Remus's leg. She hurried to my bedside.

"I'm not feeling well. Is there anything you can do for the pain and nausea?" I asked, lying back and closing my eyes.

"Certainly," she replied as she levitated four of the vials from my bedside table to hover in front of me. She rotated her wrist, and the stopper was removed from the first. "This is a simple vitamin and nutrient potion. There's no way your body can mend itself if you aren't properly nourished."

I tossed back the vial and gulped down the potion quickly. It was surprisingly tasty, with a sweet trace of honeysuckle.

She continued, unstoppering the next three vials, "Here is a pain potion, an antiemetic for your nausea, and a Dreamless Sleep potion. I think a nice, long rest will speed up your healing process greatly."

I didn't argue. In my current state, a long, dream-free sleep sounded like pure paradise. I swallowed all three potions as quickly as possible, the final purple potion warming my insides pleasantly, almost like Firewhiskey. If she continued to speak, I wasn't aware of it. The room instantly became hazy and my eyelids began to droop. The hospital wing faded away before me, and I was carried off to a blissfully deep sleep before my head had fully hit the pillow behind me.


(A/N): I hope you guys liked this longer update. What do you think of young Sirius so far? I'm still trying to work out my characterization of him. I'm also trying to keep Hermione as in-character as possible, with the exception of the obvious strong language, so please let me know if you ever think she's becoming too OOC. I do plan to take her in a more dark direction than canon, though. As I said last chapter, is there anything you'd like to see? Anything you think I should avoid? Please leave a review and let me know!

-liz

Note (10 Sept 2016): I made a small edit in Dumbledore and Hermione's discussion on Time Travel. I'm trying to adhere as closely to canon as possible, even though this is an AU, Canon-Divergent story. Personally, I consider J.K. Rowling's Pottermore writings to be secondary canon, and when I originally wrote this chapter, I completely neglected a few aspects of the Pottermore article on Time Turners. It's a very small edit, so if you're re-reading, let me know if you spot it! Reviewers that notice get their very own concerned Sirius Black in snitch-patterned socks :)

Also, while I have no problems with The Cursed Child, for purposes of this story, we're not including the script as canon. If you've read it, I think the reason why is obvious.