A/n: Another mildly confusing chapter. You should be able to keep track of which Hermione is which; if anyone has trouble or ideas on how I can clear this up, let me know. Thanks!

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It took Hermione a moment to connect the scared, tousled little girl on the bed with her own self, but her mother was fond enough of passing the photo albums around. This was, indeed, Hermione Granger. But what on earth was her years-younger self doing in her bedroom?

Then, gradually, she realized that something was wrong with the room itself. The year before she'd left for Hogwarts, she and her mother had redecorated totally, replacing the pink stripes and kittens with a blue-and- cream checked pattern. Now, the kittens were back. So was the old rocking chair her mother had removed years ago. And the outfit draped over it was far, far too small to fit her. Her gaze fell on a calendar, and she froze. June, 1986.

Ten years ago.

The time-turner.

The Hermione on the bed was staring at her older self with wide-eyed terror. "You can't get in here! You can't! The door's closed!"

She was right, Hermione realized. When she'd been five, she'd gone through a period of nightmares, and had insisted on locking her door from the inside.

Hermione took a step toward the bed, thinking to placate the girl she'd been while all the time wondering how on earth she was going to get out of this. The second she moved closer, however, past-Hermione shrieked, cowering away. Hermione glanced nervously at the door, knowing that any second, the screams would bring her parents running. She lunged towards her younger self, frantic to quiet her.

Then-Hermione let out a terrified yell and, to her horror, her older self saw a bolt of light streaking towards her. Wandless magic, her mind noted. Wizarding children can produce wandless magic when threatened.

Fearful of what that bolt might do, she glanced down at her wand and yelled, "Cingere Contego!"

The Shield Charm threw up a glittering wall around her, and she breathed a sigh of relief. That relief soon turned to horror, however, when the shield did not absorb the bolt...

But reflected it.

The younger Hermione gave a final cry, then slumped, motionless, to the bed. Letting the Charm fall, Hermione rushed to check her. No pulse. She wasn't breathing.

Horrified, Hermione shrank back. Something she'd told Harry long ago echoed, unbidden, through her numb thoughts;

"Professor McGonagall told me what awful things have happened when wizards have meddled with time...Loads of them ended up killing their past or future selves by mistake!"

She could hear her parents shouting outside the door, hear them knocking and pounding at the heavy wood. Her vision swam, the sight of her own, dead form blurring before her eyes, before she toppled quietly over in a faint.