A/N and Disclaimer:
Gryff: All righty then, this is where the actual story starts.
Cloe: ::fanfare provided by moi:: Yep, about time to.
Gryff: Oh shut up. It's not as if you wrote any of it! And I'm the one working on making the plot work too!
Cloe: Hey lady I'll have you know I did write most of Chapter 1 ::in lower voice:: That's why it sucks so badly.
Gryff: Yessiree, thank her all you want if you groan and decide to leave. Well, please don't. At least review to tell Cloe how she can write better.
Cloe: Speaking of reviews we'd like to thank all the people who reviewed as of right now...all of 5 people, Leah, WeaselyTwinsFan, Alana, Mudblood_h8r (nice name Jess) and Haruka Mouse & Galadriel Antoinette who's review I didn't like much but its the thought that counts.
Gryff: Anyway, if you do decide to read this, remember that everyone here is grown-up, settled down, and happy. For the most part at least. Ron is not married to Hermione. He's married to an intern he met on his way up the political ladder.
Cloe: Hermione is not married at all, she's to busy working at saving the world.
Gryff: Again and again and again. Well, helping to teach her students to do it for her. She's sick and tired of doing it herself.
Cloe: Not that I blame her.
Gryff: I don't blame her in the least. I mean, it must be irritating to clean up after people who misused the time technology that she invented.
Cloe: No, no she didn't invent it until after they started screwing stuff up.
Gryff: No, she was the one who invented the initial technology to go back in time. The later stuff is unique to the college.
Cloe: ::gives her an evil eye:: We are never going to agree, even though I am right. but now its time for the disclaimer ::does a little song and dance:: Anything, anynames, anybody, you recognize are not ours, pretty much everything else is.
Gryff: So there. Now don't give us any BS about shippers, or match-ups, cuz this fanfic goes on beyond the horizon...
Gryff: Seriously, I am on the 11th chapter and i'm only about halfway done.
Cloe: Hehe don't you mean Siriusly? By all fooling aside its true and we have a sequel all lined up on top of that.
Gryff: And vague ideas for a sequel on top of that. If it all falls through. But, if no one reads it, no more will get posted.
Cloe: Well over 50 people did read it but only 5 people reviewed it.
Gryff: Correction then. REVIEW! If you don't tell us what you like or don't like, it will stay that way. Changing details means a few seconds of thoughtful typing, which I do enjoy, so if you want someone in leather, or black, or curlers, just let us know.
Cloe: Uh-oh I don't think you should have said anything about leather, remember Cassandra Claire? And plus it'd be kinda hard to get any of them in leather, not that I wouldn't like it or anything.
Gryff: Oh come on. I love imagining outfits for characters. And think what we have lined up for Snape!!!!!!!! Now, for the credit, that is all mine. But it's not until chapter 7, so keep reviewing.
Gryff: ~smiles~ McGonagall and the others come first. Now these aren't nasty things. They merely...fit the various personalities.
Cloe: A few of them have whats coming to them.
Cloe: I have to say those were the most fun to think up, remember the ding bat?
Gryff: Oh yes! So sweet! But, so far it is the teachers. If anyone has a grudge against students...~grins~ something can be arranged.
Cloe: Ahhh look at the time, we've rambled enough, so shut up Gryffith and let them read AND review.
Gryff: Just because it takes you weeks to write a scene doesn't mean i have to shut up! I think it's better if people DON'T shut up. It makes for better reviews.
Cloe: I was telling you to shut up not them. And besides I wrote something yesterday , its not my fault I have writers block..
Gryff: Whatever. I don't. Now shut up and let them read already!
Cloe: Hey....I just said that! Oh damn you...fine go read please review.
Gryff: ~smiles~that's right. Ta-ta for now!

Guardian Angel from Hell
Chapter One, Lets Meet the Press!

A Harry Potter Fan Fiction
By Gryffith and Cloe

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~9 months after the letters were sent, March 15, 2022~

Dr. Hermione Granger smacked her wand on her podium trying to get the class's attention, but the entire class continued to either sleep or talk. "Ugh," the Professor muttered to herself in disgust, "This is what they call studying? They know that the exam is very soon, but all they do is waste time! Kids these days!"

One girl, however, was reading a textbook assiduously, and even though this made Hermione feel at least somewhat better, this girl broke at least 15 school regulations just sitting there. With her appearance alone she was breaking at least 3 rules: her hair, dyed an ostentatious purple; her regulation uniform robes modeled non-regulation junk; and her boots certainly didn't fit within the code. The girl had her mismatched boots, one a tall silver-studded work of black leather art and the other a heavy-duty hiking boot, sitting on top of her desk.
She smirked up at Hermione, simpered expressively, and proceeded to crack a big wad of tangerine-flavored gum, the smell being that strong and yet another rule broken. Hermione scowled back at her and the girl winked. Surprised, Hermione accidentally knocked a few papers off the podium and the class talked or slept on. Hermione bent down and swept up the papers expecting to see the girl sneering out from between her mismatched boots, but the girl was prodding a sleeping red head with her wand. He didn't move so the girl leaned over and whispered something in his ear after which he shot upright and Hermione had to bite her cheek to keep from smiling as the boy's ears tinged red an obvious family trait. He looked over to glare at the person who had interrupted his beauty sleep, his long ponytail tied at the base of his neck and giant shark tooth earring swinging, and scowled as he saw the girl.

She passed him a note, a small smirk on her face, which widened into a full out grin when the boy eventually nodded his head. They both grinned at each other and then looked up at the front of the room. The girl winked at her professor again. Hermione sighed, what could they be up to today? She could only guess as the boy discreetly handed the girl something under the table. When she had it she walked up to Hermione's podium, attracting the glares of many in the class, to which she merely presented a broad smile.

She rolled her eyes and muttered "Stereotypes," in a louder voice and, to Hermione this time, she said, "Having a bit of trouble, Ma'am? This ought to help in a hurry."

Hermione would have stopped her and asked the girl what the heck she thought she was doing, but the girl's vividly crimson eyes, tinted so by colored contact lenses, startled her. The girl put something wrapped in a bit of parchment on to Hermione's podium and walked back to her seat ignoring the glares this time. Hermione unwrapped it and recognized a Weasley Wizarding Rocket. On one side of the parchment there was a message from Fred and George Weasley wishing Bixby a happy birthday, but on the other side four words were written: "Guaranteed to attract attention."

Hermione barely swallowed a chuckle and slipped the rocket on a shelf in the podium. Back at her seat the girl tossed her purple pink hair and gave Hermione a look that implied, 'What are you waiting for?' Hermione frowned at the girl when she put her feet back on the desk and leaned back in her chair reading a book. The girl didn't look up but did raise her eyebrows to show she could still she Hermione. The red headed boy was poking the girl trying to get her to talk to him instead of read, with a sigh she snapped the book shut and turned to him with an indignant expression on her face. Hermione could see they were arguing and that she won because the boy finally gave up and threw up his hands in a "why do I even bother" fashion. Rolling her eyes, the girl went back to reading, a triumphant smirk on her face. Hermione decided right then to take the girls advise and light the rocket.

The rocket took off and whizzed around the room like its life depended on it, it hit a brown haired boy smack in the head, fell to the floor and took off again this time running into peoples shoes it being only an inch off the ground. It ping-ponged back and forth, eventually hitting a desk leg at an angle where it was brought back up to head level. It was panic, people ran around the room ducking occasionally when it would fly by their heads. Someone had enchanted the doors and no one could figure out the counter spell so that they could leave. Finally it stopped and everyone who was crowded around the doors looked around to see who had stopped it, from their perspective it was still going but just stopped in mid-air. As a finale the tip erupted into red and blue sparks when they faded the girl who had given it to Hermione in the first place was calmly holding it between her thumb and forefinger. Some time during the confusion the redheaded boy who had slipped it to her under the table was on the floor rolling in laughter.

The girl shook her head and kicked him lightly, "Get up, Bixby, you're making a fool of yourself laughing like a hyena."

"Oh come off it! Circe, you think it is as funny as I do," he protested, getting up all the same.

"I most certainly do not," she sniffed with well breed distain, he glared at her.

"All right, all right, I do have to say that it is the best thing your uncles have come up with since 'Screaming Sour Sunday Mix,' but I don't think now is the time for this conversation."

The entire class was glaring daggers at the two pranksters, Hermione was sure she could taste blood in her mouth for all the times she had had to bite her cheek to keep from either laughing or crying; Harry and Ron had been like this.

Circe arched her eyebrow and said, cool as ever, "What are you all staring at? I stopped the thing, not set it off. You should be thanking me."

After class almost all of the students pretended to have forgotten about the rocket and nastily mimicked the Head Sergeant Master in high and whiny voices instead.

"Now remember, if you have to go back to correct someone, there is only a twenty-four hour time loop in which you can do so!" Tiglah Kurt squeaked.

"No, no, no!" Everard Longbottom sneered, "It sounds more like, 'you are not allowed to visit any of the unstable times because they are highly variable and you might accidentally change them!!!" Alphonsa Bulstrode snorted.

"As if! 'Don't change a thing!!! Don't even pick a leaf from a bush!' Geesh! What's up with that?" Cameron Zadah laughed.

"Oh, and the worst possibility of all! 'If you go to the same part of time over and over you will strain the space/time continuum until the second disappears from time and nobody will ever be able to remember it!!!!!"

Everybody laughed with him at his high squeaky voice. Everybody, that is, except the purple-haired girl, Circe. She was pointedly ignoring the apparently "superior" boys and their hangers-on by reading yesterdays issue of the Daily Prophet as she kept pace behind the group. Many parts of it were excruciatingly funny, or at least she thought so. The "Funnies" page, introduced by muggle-born Dean Thomas fifteen years ago, she thought hilarious, especially as she had never known muggles could be so witty as to write and draw such jokes.
Circe scanned the horoscopes before reading the actual articles. She never really believed them; Lavender Kurt was just like any other prophet and while she might have up to five true visions a year, the rest of the time she made up junk to keep her audience enthralled. She ran her finger down the signs until she stopped at Aquarius, the water bearer. The picture beside the sign was arranged like tarot cards in this order: a sandglass, a tornado, a ghost, a cliff, and picture of a two-headed coin spinning on its side. Interested, Circe's eyes jumped to the caption below the picture, expecting to find some cheery, optimistic fakery as she did anyway. Instead the elegant blue writing washed away like water from glass and the caption was rewritten in strange purple ink:

'Very soon you will be pressed for time by an unexpected and unpredictable event. You will relive dead memories from before your birth and force others to revive them, but the doors will shut and lock behind you, leaving only one way out. The path will be virulent and lethal, and you may need another face to achieve your ends. A Leo will thank you, a Pisces will love you, a Scorpio will hate you, and beware the stony fang.'

Circe stared disbelieving as the normal blue ink and optimistic words forcefully reasserted themselves in the caption, reading as cheerily as they always did. Her eyes narrowed and she glanced down at the star chart at the bottom of the page, skipping the actual chart and reading the interpretation below:

'Aquarius: The Moon is square with Mars and Pluto, and so your temper is short and you trust no one. You must learn to look at the good side and try to stay calm; anxiety will only hurt you. Mercury the trickster and Saturn the ruler are entering your house and so your life will be taken out of your hands. Retrieve it before you follow the same path as your control.'

Circe lifted her head to consider it, but before she could hands wrapped around her eyes.

"Guess who!!!"

"Bixby! Get off of me!" The hands fell away and Circe whirled around to see Bixby towering over her, grinning.

"That was some rocket, huh? Aren't my uncles great?" Circe shoved him square in the chest.

"Those uncles are great. Your uncle Percy has a habit of getting on people's nerves. How did he convince that Ravenclaw basket of brains to marry him?"

"Awww, aren't you going to give any of my family a chance?"

"I've given you a chance!" Bixby backed away, still grinning like an idiot.

"You have a point, mighty Circe-" here he bowed deeply to her "-but it makes no difference. You're coming to my birthday party tomorrow? Remember to dress up; my father insists on it being a fancy dinner party." He stayed long enough to see her smile and then he ran off.

Circe sighed and turned the page of the newspaper, having completely forgotten her unusual horoscope. The front page of the paper was covered with pictures of Harry Potter and the Minister of Magic, Mr. Weasley. The girl recognized both personages instantly, having read many books about Harry, and Bixby and Mr. Weasley shared a few traits common to the Weasley lineage, mainly the red hair and freckles, just like any father-son combination.
Circe grinned and read on.

"The Minister of Magic Remembers His Childhood Friend, Harry Potter"

Written by: Ginny Creevy

'It will have been exactly 25 years tomorrow since the famous hero who had been able to stand up to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Mr. Weasley, the Minister of Magic and one of Harry's friends, organizes the annual celebration again this year for Harry Potter, the brave student who died before he could graduate and reach up to his fullest maturity. We have asked Mr. Weasley if he will ever let anybody else help him organize the festival so that he will not be exhausted by the addition to his regular workload, but he repeats that he does it in memory of his friend. Again the Weasley twins, Mr. George and Fred Weasley, donate a generous sum from their profitable business as prank-makers.

Directly quoting them, "Harry once gave us 1000 galleons so that we could start our business. We feel that we have to repay him...somehow." You see that although the young Harry Potter has died, he still has a powerful effect on us all, though that effect isn't always positive.

Mr. Draco Malfoy, a foremost member of the Wizard's Council who was in Harry's year at Hogwarts, says, "Harry Potter was never anything special. His mother concocted the counter-curse to the Avada Kedavra curse, not he. When You-Know-Who tried to curse Harry, the sorcerer passed on some of his own talents to Harry, including making him a Parseltongue. You see, the only reason Harry has become famous at all was other people; he has never done one thing all by himself. As I remember, he was infamous for breaking every rule there was! And Professor Dumbledore awarded him for his disobedience! If you ask me, there has been some serious propaganda here, and not all of it has been telling the truth. If you continued to ask me, I'd say Harry was a worthless muggle-lover. That last bit is off the record, right?"

There you are, dear readers, the opinions of the Minister and Primary of the Wizard's Council, two of the most important personages in the Magical Government. But, no matter how much Mr. Malfoy froths at the mouth because of Harry Potter, the celebration will be taking place at Hogwarts from May 20th to May 27th. At the actual scene of Hogwarts, most of the professors are overjoyed at the thought of hosting a celebration for the late student.

Neville Longbottom, the Herbology professor who succeeded Professor Sprout, says, "I went to school with Harry, we actually shared a dorm room. He was nice to me, and his friends were too. I feel that we should have celebrated his name more than just this."

Professor Trelawney, the astrology professor, says, "I remember Harry. He was in my class for a few years. I told him, I predicted his death, but would he listen? No-" and several other teachers remember either teaching young Harry, or going to school with him.

Professor Weasley, who is retired from dragon taming and now the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, says, "I saw Harry once when he participated at the Triwizard Tournament when I supplied the dragons, but that's about it."

Professor Binns, the history professor and a ghost, somehow doesn't remember Harry, but then he would be the only one. He says, "All of the students I taught fell asleep in my class, so why should I bother to remember them? Wait, there was one student…Hermosa Grant, I think…or was it something else? I remember that she wanted to know about the Chamber of Secrets…. Now get out of my way, I need to teach!"

And so Hogwarts will know its hero once again, for an entire week.'

Circe grinned at the way the reporter described her father's reaction to the mention of Harry Potter. She was about to turn the page when Everard approached her.

"Circe, can I have a word?" he asked brushing his brown hair out from his eyes.

"Me? You want a word with little old me? Oh I'm honored," she said with a snide smile.
He led her over to a more deserted corner of the hall. Everard unlike his father, Neville, was strong and stocky yet incredibly graceful on his feet; he could almost glide across the ground and had stamina from here to next Tuesday. When others were huffing and puffing on the verge of collapse Everard was still going strong. And he wasn't all muscle either; he didn't get everything perfect but he had enough fair marks that Circe was curious as to why he wanted to chat.

"I don't really think you asked me over to ask how my day was going so why don't we cut to the chase?" she asked, eyebrow raised. Everard chuckled.

"You certainly don't like to waste time do you," he paused, "incidentally that is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about, time"

"Uh huh, what about it, need more of it? Me too." He smiled a little at the last part but mostly he just looked nervous.

"Well spit it out, I don't have all day you know," she said harsher then she had intended. His features darkened a little, but as she only rolled her eyes he sighed and went on.

"I am having a little bit of trouble with the-" but mercifully Hermione chose that moment to interrupt.

"Ms. Malfoy, I need to see you," when Circe didn't move she added, "now."

"Sorry, Everard," she muttered and exchanged puzzled looks with Bixby, who was lounging at the other end of the hall. He shrugged and she walked back into the classroom.

Circe stood nervously in front of the Head Sergeant Master's desk. In reality it could have been anyone's desk, but Ms. Granger was sitting behind it and that made all the difference. The woman sitting in the beautifully cushioned crimson chair was thin and angular with plain brown hair tied severely into a coil at the back of her head. She had ordinary ginger eyes, but those eyes were also gazing sharply back at the girl.

Circe uneasily toyed with the end of her bright purple ponytail as the woman scrutinized every inch of the figure in front of her. Those uncompromising brown irises and black pupils examined the girl completely, from the crimson eyes in the thin, heart-shaped face, down the strapless blue shirt, the blue jeans, to the mismatched boots with an old, patched black robe thrown over it all. The girl's birch wand was sticking out of the holster hanging from the belt hooked loosely about her waist. Those bleak, inscrutable eyes then seemed to penetrate past Circe's disdainful expression and examine her soul, or at least it seemed so to the girl. Circe squeaked once, cleared her throat, and finally spoke.

"You wanted to see me, ma'am?" Hermione sat back in the chair, satisfied.

"It's about time. And yes, I wanted to see you. It is about a third of the way through the semester, of which I believe you are well aware. It is my custom to test my students starting about this time, one by one. As you appear to have absorbed the most material out of the entire class, I have chosen you to be first. You will go back in time to a set time and place, observe what you see, return in a set amount of time, and report to me. You will not be able to time-travel at all during this period, and you will automatically be pulled back into this time at the end of the period. The challenge, as you may have guessed, is to observe as much as you can without changing a single thing. You will depart day after tomorrow, and I would suggest bringing food enough for a fortnight and a cloak; you really don't know how long you will be staying. If you are in mortal danger, you may send out a beacon; I'll show you how to do that later. Be in this office 9 in the morning, sharp, and I will accept no excuses. You are dismissed."

Circe, stunned, ambled slowly out of the door and into the deserted hallway. She checked her watch and saw the words "Bixby's party" flash across it; she loved this watch, because even if it didn't tell the time, it did tell you exactly what you had to be doing or getting for. And now she had to go to Diagon Alley to buy a gift for Bixby and a new outfit for herself, which was the benefit of having a rich father and absolutely no scruples about outrageously spending his money.

Circe checked the moneybag she hung at her belt, but it was nearly empty. She stood there for a moment…her house was close to Diagon Alley, and she needed to go there to collect some more gold from her stash, which was just money from the Malfoy vault. And then after her shopping spree it would probably be too late to ride her broom, even though it was a brand new and very fast Flaring Zephyr, all the way back to the Time College, so she would have to stay at the Malfoy household. Oh well, as long as she didn't have to face Lazarus or Cane too much. Without a second thought Circe strode through the halls to her dorm room, mounted her broom, and flew out the window.