A/N: hah! Okay, so, now I'm going to post the seventh chapter, I think? I
don't know, I don't keep count. Anyway, all of this in one night! Oy! And,
Killer Angel, your review was the one that wouldn't show up when I checked
(a couple of hours ago). So, a belated thank you! -_-0
The spells in this are 'ebraf' and 'kuruz' which are the backwards spellings... the German word for 'color; is 'farbe' which is 'ebraf' backwards, and the German word for 'back' is 'Zurück' and the best I could interpret that backwards is 'kuruz' I own both spells, I guess unless Her Royal Highness would like to use them.
This chapter is nice and extra long for you guys, okay? ^_____^ lol
.
.
.
The next morning, it wasn't Lily that woke Hermione up, or the hustle and bustle of kids going to breakfast.
It was a 'thunk' quickly followed by an 'ow' and a curse.
Once she was awake, and under the knowledge of classes who-knows-how-long in the past, she was /AWAKE/ and jumped to her feet, rubbing her eyes. A moment's patience as the blood rushed from her head with dizzying affects, then she made her way yawning toward the portrait hole in a half run.
There was another 'thunk' and quite a few more after that, a few more curses, and the fat lady's "watch where you're going, won't you!"
Hermione got up again, rubbing an eye and looking down at whoever she had just run into.
Oh. She froze as he got to his feet.
"Ah. Hermione, was it?" he asked, squinting at her. "You never /did/ tell me weather it was amnesia or schizophrenia."
"Oh," she said, voice quite higher than usual, "erm, yeah, about that. I'm really, really, really sorry! I, ah, I hit my head on the way here! Yeah, and, err, and when I was going downstairs to see the headmaster, I accidentally stumbled into Malfoy and fell. See, eh, I'm not actually from this school, you understand, I'm sort of like an exchange student, err, I grade the teachers I've been assigned by prof- by the headmaster!" all the while her voice grew in pitch, and she was quite red in the face by the time she'd finished the lie.
Story. Hermione preferred /story/ over /lie/ since this was a very big matter.
Sirius screwed his face up, looking at her through narrowed lies. It was a moment before he said anything.
"That was," he started throatily, "the /worst/ most /stupidest/ lie I have ever heard before in my life."
Hermione couldn't think of a quick and witty reply to that one.
"But I accept your apology. If you're willing to admit who I am."
Oh, that was easy enough. She was well aware of her tense muscles, red face, and clenched fists.
"Err, yes," she started, easily enough. She looked him up and down. Yeah, that was he. Miniature, barely the same. "Your name is Sirius Black and you're a marauder at this school."
He bowed.
"Merci, ma dame, we're on associating terms now." And with that said, he spun on his heel (literally! Hermione almost fell over trying to picture Harry's godfather doing that) and marched down towards breakfast.
She didn't know how long she stood there staring after him, frozen in place. It was only after the fat lady snapped, "Are you going to stand there with me open all day?" did she jerk back into a right state of mind, slam the portrait shut ("ouch! Hey, haven't you any manners??") and rush to the nearest bathroom, which was, luckily, empty. She washed her face hard then ran wet fingers through her hair, wishing dearly for a hairbrush.
Being deprived of one, though, she settled for something she had sworn never to do if her life depended upon it. Or if she had a very good other reason. She didn't consider this a very good "other reason" but she wasn't about to walk through school all day with messy, dirty, oily, tangled hair.
Taking a piece of string, she yanked her hair up to around the middle top of her head and tied it up around the string and the string around that, the bun finally being complete an unnecessary amount of time later. It would have looked much, much better under any other circumstances. But right now, at least her hair was out of her face, and none of it was free, so it would have to do.
A bell rang, and Hermione decided that she'd have to skip over breakfast and head toward her first class.
Most people found it hard to memorize a schedule that had as many classes of hers (only enough to fill a day, she needed homework time, study time, sleep time, and eat time) that were all different each day of the week.
But Hermione found that part rather easy, next to the classes.
First on Mondays was herbology, easy enough. Nobody, not one of the top five people she wanted to avoid anyway, throughout her morning classes, and the teachers each regarded her carefully and told the students she was a trade student. By lunchtime, everybody (of course) knew, and there were many interested stares in her direction when she entered the great hall for lunch. She ate a little, wrapped some more in a napkin, and then left in a hurry.
She'd been given a used bag and books to borrow, and Dumbledore had also given her a supply of parchment, quills, and ink, so she was decked out enough. He'd even asked her what her wand was, and then gotten (borrowed, he had said) borrowed a wand (that would be hers once she was born) for her to use.
Things didn't begin to get twitchy until after lunch and history of magic.
Charms. The class that had started it all.
And guess who she had it with? All five of them. Even though it was obvious all the kids knew by now, the class was told she was a temporary exchange student, and to make her feel welcome, as her school may do things differently.
They were doing color-changing charms today, simple enough in Hermione's opinion. She listened, understood, and felt things might go smoothly, even with the five of them there... in the same room...
She felt her stomach drop, fall through the floor, and squish into another timeline when he began to (manually) partner them up. Going against their friends would not, apparently, help them.
And guess whom Hermione got partnered up with?
Lupin.
They stood about five feet apart, a desk between them, just like all of the others. So she had an excuse to study him much more closely (Hermione comforted herself with) and decided that (as a kid, as a kid, in a different timeline! Not hers!) he was kind of cute.
In a mysterious, sisterly kind of way. Mutual attraction, but more like it was how drained he seemed (when had the last full moon been?) almost fragile. Hermione suppressed a shudder, thinking of a former teacher as 'frail'.
"Go easy on me," he joked, jerking her out of her unblinking reverie and at the same time indication that she should go first.
"Nah. You may feel some pain before you die, though, so I hope you're ready." She said, matching his soft tone. He didn't catch the hint, or if he did, ignored it or decided it wasn't worth his time to bother with raising his voice. He seemed to hear her perfectly fine through all of the voices trying the spell at the same time, Flitwick's screaming (something like "there's big difference between a disarming spell and the color changing spell, Mr. Potter!"), and the /pings/ and /pongs/ of spells missing their targets and hitting something else.
It wasn't very long until various parts of the room were different colors, and Hermione had the feeling that the entire room would look like some painters had splashed all they had by the time the lesson was over.
Unless they were taught the counter charm. She already knew it, of course, but she knew she'd be taught again.
Glancing over the younger version of her former DADA teacher, she decided on a color and object, pointed her wand, and said, "Ebraf!" along with the slight jerk upward of the wrist but the tip of the wand being held still. Another perfectly executed spell!
And his robes were now a dark blue. (to match his eyes, she decided.)
"Alright," he murmured haltingly, looking down at himself. "Two can play at that game. Ebraf!"
she had a moment's time to marvel at how his stance and the flick of the wrist and pronunciation of the word and everything was perfect (like hers) before there was a slight warming sensation, barely felt.
"What did you," she started, glancing around herself, then a piece of hair fell into her face, and she stared into it. "Ah. Cheaters never prosper."
"How is turning your hair black cheating?"
"Oho, haven't figured it out, yet? Professor said to change clothes /only/ my dear. Ebraf!"
"Heh, well if you don't squeal then I won't - ack, green? I should hardly think my hair - ebraf! - would look green." Insert cocky smirk here.
Infuriating.
"Yes, well - ebraf! - I think it matches your - ebraf! - eyes!"
"What's my eyes got - hold still, ebraf! - to do with it?"
"I think they ought to be a violently violent violet, don't you think? Ebraf! Ebraf! Ebraf!"
"Three spells at once isn't fair! Ebraf!"
"This is life, kid; just because you play by the rules doesn't mean /I/ will. Ebraf!" a moment's thought. "Ebraf, ebraf, ebraf, ebraf, ebraf!"
"Ouch, okay, you can change my robes, you can make my shoes hot pink, and my skin dark tan, and my hair lime green, but you can not, I repeat /not/ make my fingernails red!" another moment's pause. "Ebraf, ebraf, ebraf, oh, yellow or pink? Ebraf!"
"Hey, I thought we settled on black hair?"
"But pink is so much more stylish!"
"Well, how about I make you go Goth?"
"Goth?"
"Ebraf, ebraf, ebraf, ebraf, ebraf, ebraf, and, oh heck with it, ebraf!" it didn't really occur to Hermione that she was indirectly playing with her third year DADA teacher when he was a kid.
"Black? That's it? Fine, I guess that'll make you white, won't it?" insert about a million "ebraf!"s right about here.
"Eek, I've gone all virgin!" Hermione complained. "We ought to match, don't you think? Ebr-"
"I said clothing only!" their professor howled, causing Hermione to start. Her spell went zinging past Remus's right ear and hit the already multi- colored chalkboard, causing a white stain along with all the other colors of the rainbow.
"I'm sorry professor, I must have missed that part," Remus said with a slight smirk. His soft voice was strangely audible. "Then Hermione was hell- bent on revenge, so..."
"Holy, I mean, when did /you/ go bad?" Lily demanded, staring al ogle-eyed at Lupin. He blinked at her.
"What?"
"Well don't you two look like a married couple!" James Potter remarked, and the entire class burst out laughing. Hermione huffed, rolled her eyes, realized what she had been doing, and flushed. Pointing her (borrowed) wand at herself, she mumbled, "kuruz," and judging by the many chokes heard across the classroom, she'd managed to change everything of herself back to normal.
Flitwick chose then to make everybody sit down, and he taught them the counter charm. They spent the rest of the hour cleaning up the classroom, and Hermione avoided all of them (five and the other kids when she could) as she rushed out still tucking her homework in her (borrowed) bag. She made sure she was normally colored in a mirror, and made it to her last class - double D.A.t.D.A.
All five of the others weren't with her this time. Just one.
One that she'd /personally/ like to avoid.
Luckily, though, she managed to find a nice seat in the very back, and today was just some reading the book and they were given their assignment. The teacher was an old wheezing man, so he was a little hard to understand. Having already read the book, Hermione did her assignment, handed it in (taking the long away around the room to avoid Sirius), then got to work on her other assignments. She got a good chunk of them finished too, when they left.
She didn't bother to head to the common room. Instead, she went to the library, finished her assignments, ran around the school handing them in early before the teachers left their classrooms, and then went in search of "The Headmaster".
The spells in this are 'ebraf' and 'kuruz' which are the backwards spellings... the German word for 'color; is 'farbe' which is 'ebraf' backwards, and the German word for 'back' is 'Zurück' and the best I could interpret that backwards is 'kuruz' I own both spells, I guess unless Her Royal Highness would like to use them.
This chapter is nice and extra long for you guys, okay? ^_____^ lol
.
.
.
The next morning, it wasn't Lily that woke Hermione up, or the hustle and bustle of kids going to breakfast.
It was a 'thunk' quickly followed by an 'ow' and a curse.
Once she was awake, and under the knowledge of classes who-knows-how-long in the past, she was /AWAKE/ and jumped to her feet, rubbing her eyes. A moment's patience as the blood rushed from her head with dizzying affects, then she made her way yawning toward the portrait hole in a half run.
There was another 'thunk' and quite a few more after that, a few more curses, and the fat lady's "watch where you're going, won't you!"
Hermione got up again, rubbing an eye and looking down at whoever she had just run into.
Oh. She froze as he got to his feet.
"Ah. Hermione, was it?" he asked, squinting at her. "You never /did/ tell me weather it was amnesia or schizophrenia."
"Oh," she said, voice quite higher than usual, "erm, yeah, about that. I'm really, really, really sorry! I, ah, I hit my head on the way here! Yeah, and, err, and when I was going downstairs to see the headmaster, I accidentally stumbled into Malfoy and fell. See, eh, I'm not actually from this school, you understand, I'm sort of like an exchange student, err, I grade the teachers I've been assigned by prof- by the headmaster!" all the while her voice grew in pitch, and she was quite red in the face by the time she'd finished the lie.
Story. Hermione preferred /story/ over /lie/ since this was a very big matter.
Sirius screwed his face up, looking at her through narrowed lies. It was a moment before he said anything.
"That was," he started throatily, "the /worst/ most /stupidest/ lie I have ever heard before in my life."
Hermione couldn't think of a quick and witty reply to that one.
"But I accept your apology. If you're willing to admit who I am."
Oh, that was easy enough. She was well aware of her tense muscles, red face, and clenched fists.
"Err, yes," she started, easily enough. She looked him up and down. Yeah, that was he. Miniature, barely the same. "Your name is Sirius Black and you're a marauder at this school."
He bowed.
"Merci, ma dame, we're on associating terms now." And with that said, he spun on his heel (literally! Hermione almost fell over trying to picture Harry's godfather doing that) and marched down towards breakfast.
She didn't know how long she stood there staring after him, frozen in place. It was only after the fat lady snapped, "Are you going to stand there with me open all day?" did she jerk back into a right state of mind, slam the portrait shut ("ouch! Hey, haven't you any manners??") and rush to the nearest bathroom, which was, luckily, empty. She washed her face hard then ran wet fingers through her hair, wishing dearly for a hairbrush.
Being deprived of one, though, she settled for something she had sworn never to do if her life depended upon it. Or if she had a very good other reason. She didn't consider this a very good "other reason" but she wasn't about to walk through school all day with messy, dirty, oily, tangled hair.
Taking a piece of string, she yanked her hair up to around the middle top of her head and tied it up around the string and the string around that, the bun finally being complete an unnecessary amount of time later. It would have looked much, much better under any other circumstances. But right now, at least her hair was out of her face, and none of it was free, so it would have to do.
A bell rang, and Hermione decided that she'd have to skip over breakfast and head toward her first class.
Most people found it hard to memorize a schedule that had as many classes of hers (only enough to fill a day, she needed homework time, study time, sleep time, and eat time) that were all different each day of the week.
But Hermione found that part rather easy, next to the classes.
First on Mondays was herbology, easy enough. Nobody, not one of the top five people she wanted to avoid anyway, throughout her morning classes, and the teachers each regarded her carefully and told the students she was a trade student. By lunchtime, everybody (of course) knew, and there were many interested stares in her direction when she entered the great hall for lunch. She ate a little, wrapped some more in a napkin, and then left in a hurry.
She'd been given a used bag and books to borrow, and Dumbledore had also given her a supply of parchment, quills, and ink, so she was decked out enough. He'd even asked her what her wand was, and then gotten (borrowed, he had said) borrowed a wand (that would be hers once she was born) for her to use.
Things didn't begin to get twitchy until after lunch and history of magic.
Charms. The class that had started it all.
And guess who she had it with? All five of them. Even though it was obvious all the kids knew by now, the class was told she was a temporary exchange student, and to make her feel welcome, as her school may do things differently.
They were doing color-changing charms today, simple enough in Hermione's opinion. She listened, understood, and felt things might go smoothly, even with the five of them there... in the same room...
She felt her stomach drop, fall through the floor, and squish into another timeline when he began to (manually) partner them up. Going against their friends would not, apparently, help them.
And guess whom Hermione got partnered up with?
Lupin.
They stood about five feet apart, a desk between them, just like all of the others. So she had an excuse to study him much more closely (Hermione comforted herself with) and decided that (as a kid, as a kid, in a different timeline! Not hers!) he was kind of cute.
In a mysterious, sisterly kind of way. Mutual attraction, but more like it was how drained he seemed (when had the last full moon been?) almost fragile. Hermione suppressed a shudder, thinking of a former teacher as 'frail'.
"Go easy on me," he joked, jerking her out of her unblinking reverie and at the same time indication that she should go first.
"Nah. You may feel some pain before you die, though, so I hope you're ready." She said, matching his soft tone. He didn't catch the hint, or if he did, ignored it or decided it wasn't worth his time to bother with raising his voice. He seemed to hear her perfectly fine through all of the voices trying the spell at the same time, Flitwick's screaming (something like "there's big difference between a disarming spell and the color changing spell, Mr. Potter!"), and the /pings/ and /pongs/ of spells missing their targets and hitting something else.
It wasn't very long until various parts of the room were different colors, and Hermione had the feeling that the entire room would look like some painters had splashed all they had by the time the lesson was over.
Unless they were taught the counter charm. She already knew it, of course, but she knew she'd be taught again.
Glancing over the younger version of her former DADA teacher, she decided on a color and object, pointed her wand, and said, "Ebraf!" along with the slight jerk upward of the wrist but the tip of the wand being held still. Another perfectly executed spell!
And his robes were now a dark blue. (to match his eyes, she decided.)
"Alright," he murmured haltingly, looking down at himself. "Two can play at that game. Ebraf!"
she had a moment's time to marvel at how his stance and the flick of the wrist and pronunciation of the word and everything was perfect (like hers) before there was a slight warming sensation, barely felt.
"What did you," she started, glancing around herself, then a piece of hair fell into her face, and she stared into it. "Ah. Cheaters never prosper."
"How is turning your hair black cheating?"
"Oho, haven't figured it out, yet? Professor said to change clothes /only/ my dear. Ebraf!"
"Heh, well if you don't squeal then I won't - ack, green? I should hardly think my hair - ebraf! - would look green." Insert cocky smirk here.
Infuriating.
"Yes, well - ebraf! - I think it matches your - ebraf! - eyes!"
"What's my eyes got - hold still, ebraf! - to do with it?"
"I think they ought to be a violently violent violet, don't you think? Ebraf! Ebraf! Ebraf!"
"Three spells at once isn't fair! Ebraf!"
"This is life, kid; just because you play by the rules doesn't mean /I/ will. Ebraf!" a moment's thought. "Ebraf, ebraf, ebraf, ebraf, ebraf!"
"Ouch, okay, you can change my robes, you can make my shoes hot pink, and my skin dark tan, and my hair lime green, but you can not, I repeat /not/ make my fingernails red!" another moment's pause. "Ebraf, ebraf, ebraf, oh, yellow or pink? Ebraf!"
"Hey, I thought we settled on black hair?"
"But pink is so much more stylish!"
"Well, how about I make you go Goth?"
"Goth?"
"Ebraf, ebraf, ebraf, ebraf, ebraf, ebraf, and, oh heck with it, ebraf!" it didn't really occur to Hermione that she was indirectly playing with her third year DADA teacher when he was a kid.
"Black? That's it? Fine, I guess that'll make you white, won't it?" insert about a million "ebraf!"s right about here.
"Eek, I've gone all virgin!" Hermione complained. "We ought to match, don't you think? Ebr-"
"I said clothing only!" their professor howled, causing Hermione to start. Her spell went zinging past Remus's right ear and hit the already multi- colored chalkboard, causing a white stain along with all the other colors of the rainbow.
"I'm sorry professor, I must have missed that part," Remus said with a slight smirk. His soft voice was strangely audible. "Then Hermione was hell- bent on revenge, so..."
"Holy, I mean, when did /you/ go bad?" Lily demanded, staring al ogle-eyed at Lupin. He blinked at her.
"What?"
"Well don't you two look like a married couple!" James Potter remarked, and the entire class burst out laughing. Hermione huffed, rolled her eyes, realized what she had been doing, and flushed. Pointing her (borrowed) wand at herself, she mumbled, "kuruz," and judging by the many chokes heard across the classroom, she'd managed to change everything of herself back to normal.
Flitwick chose then to make everybody sit down, and he taught them the counter charm. They spent the rest of the hour cleaning up the classroom, and Hermione avoided all of them (five and the other kids when she could) as she rushed out still tucking her homework in her (borrowed) bag. She made sure she was normally colored in a mirror, and made it to her last class - double D.A.t.D.A.
All five of the others weren't with her this time. Just one.
One that she'd /personally/ like to avoid.
Luckily, though, she managed to find a nice seat in the very back, and today was just some reading the book and they were given their assignment. The teacher was an old wheezing man, so he was a little hard to understand. Having already read the book, Hermione did her assignment, handed it in (taking the long away around the room to avoid Sirius), then got to work on her other assignments. She got a good chunk of them finished too, when they left.
She didn't bother to head to the common room. Instead, she went to the library, finished her assignments, ran around the school handing them in early before the teachers left their classrooms, and then went in search of "The Headmaster".