Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! You even spotted the borrowed lines! Btw, I can assure the reviewer who hinted at similarities with 'Tragic Circle' –and left me very worried by doing so– that I immediately went to read it and they have nothing in common.

This story focuses on a part of Time Turner stories that in my opinion is not given enough attention to, namely what happens when Hermione comes back to the present. In this chapter you'll find a few shout outs to typical Time Turner fic elements - it's not really resorting to the cliché, it's more like… playing with it. ;P

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Two – In My Memory Locked

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'Tis in my memory locked,
and you yourself shall keep the key of it.

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Even before opening her eyes, Hermione could tell where she was. Only Hogwarts Hospital Wing had that smell, and after seven years of escapades which inevitably ended with her or her friends there, she could have recognised that obscure combination of healing potions and disinfectant anywhere.

"It seems she's finally coming to, Poppy," she heard someone say.

"Prof… Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione asked and tried to open her eyes, but it turned out to be too painful and made the dizziness come back. There was a faint rustling and she felt a cold hand over her forehead.

"Quiet, dear. Try not to make any rushed movements," Madam Pomfrey said softly in her ear.

"Wh… what happened?"

And then it all came back to her. Dumbledore had tried to send her back… or forward… her thoughts were too confusing, they were making her head pound. She made another attempt at opening her eyes and before her appeared two blurry Headmasters that melted into one once she adjusted her gaze and the dizziness receded slightly. Next to him stood the Nurse, who threw Hermione a sympathetic look and left for her office, muttering something about Nau-Nausea Potion.

"Why am I in the Hospital Wing?"

"You passed out and have been unconscious since yesterday evening," Dumbledore answered.

"When… what year is it?"

"1998," another voice from her left said. "You're home now, Hermione."

"Professor McGonagall? Did I… did it really happen?"

"Yes, child. You had an accident with your Time Turner and… and spent three months in 1978."

She looked out the window. The sky seemed far too gloomy for May.

Answering her unspoken question, Dumbledore said, "But less than a day has gone by in our time since you fell down the stairs."

"How… how is that possible?"

"We don't know yet. But the important thing is that you arrived safe and in one piece. I was never completely certain whether you had managed to make it home unharmed, when I sent you back. You have kept us wondering for twenty years, you know."

"Oh," was all the answer she could come up with. Now that she was back, it all seemed too surreal, too bizarre to be true.

A very agitated Madam Pomfrey materialised from behind the white screen separating her bed from the others. "Messrs Potter and Weasley insist on seeing Miss Granger at once, but I've…"

"Harry and Ron are here?" Hermione interrupted her.

McGonagall had moved closer to the bed and was now nervously smoothing the covers. "Hermione…" she started, looking very uncertain as to how to continue. "There are some – er – details that we should perhaps discuss before letting your friends in."

"Details?" Hermione asked. She really had no idea where the conversation was going, and apparently neither did her Head of House, because she was looking at Dumbledore like a shipwrecked searching for a lifesaver. The elderly wizard cleared his throat and leaned towards Hermione in an almost conspiratorial manner.

"We believe it would be safer for you if no one knew about your… adventure. I'm afraid some might speculate there were ulterior motives in your visit to the past. Certain people are likely to wonder whether you tried to alter particular events."

"But I didn't!" Hermione exclaimed, offended.

"I know, child. However, it's your safety we have to consider here and, even though the Ministry has neared its position to the Order's since the beginning of the War, Minister Fudge systematically distrusts those students who have showed their loyalty to me in the past."

"Not to mention what the Daily Prophet would have to say about my little trip if they found out, right?"

Dumbledore merely nodded in response.

Hermione let out a deep breath. "What about Harry and Ron?"

McGonagall and Dumbledore exchanged a quick look.

"Am I supposed to lie to them about where I have been the last three months? Don't you think they'll suspect something?"

"Hermione," Dumbledore began, "as far as your friends and the rest of the school are concerned, you simply fell down the stairs and had to spend the night in the Hospital Wing. You never left the present."

"Besides, Potter might feel you are holding back… answers," said McGonagall.

"Answers? About what?"

"Well, about – er – his parents, mainly," McGonagall finished apologetically.

"But I didn't even meet James and Lily!"

"We know", the Headmaster took over, "and I realise how much self-restraint on your part this shows, but that doesn't change the fact that Mr Potter might…"

"Oh my God, you think Harry would resent me for not warning them!"

Dumbledore sighed. "You must try to understand his point of view, Miss Granger."

"I… yes, certainly. I had just never given it any thought. I mean, sure, I realised they were there, completely oblivious, but… the risks that would come with telling them… do you really think Harry would hold it against me?"

"Well, what he doesn't know won't hurt him and personally, I believe he has more than enough on his shoulders as it is."

"Of course, I - I won't tell anyone." After a moment, "Who else knows?"

"Besides the three of us?" he said, gesturing to himself, McGonagall and the nurse. "Well, Professor Flitwick. He helped me with the spell to send you to the future. And Professor Snape, of course."

Snape. She had forgot about him. It was hard to believe that the shy scrawny seventh year that had tutored her in secret during those three months was the same person as the Professor who had tried to make hers and her friends' lives hell for almost seven years.

Dumbledore's voice yanked her out of her thoughts. "I believe you should try to get some sleep now. After all, you must be exhausted. I'll make sure Madam Pomfrey," he nodded in the direction of the mediwizard, who was looking at them disapprovingly, "allows Mr Potter and Mr Ronald Weasley to visit you before breakfast."

And with that he stood up and left, ushering a very anxious Minerva McGonagall towards the door. Hermione sighed and obediently opened her mouth to swallow the foul-smelling potion Madam Pomfrey was holding under her nose.

- July 1st, 1991. -

"Lemon drop?"

Snape shook his head curtly.

"Perhaps one of these toffees? They're quite delightful, I assure you."

"I presume you haven't requested my presence in your office to chat about Muggle sweets, Headmaster."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Always to the point, eh? The fact is I thought it would be wise if we discussed some of the… new arrivals for the coming school year in advance, so that you would have more time to prepare, Severus."

"If this is about the Potters' brat, Albus, I guarantee I am more than enough prepared. Though Arithmancy may not be my field of expertise, I am certainly able to count to eleven."

"I'm glad to hear that, but I'm afraid this has nothing to do with Harry." Dumbledore surveyed the younger wizard over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. "You surely remember your seventh year and the… incident involving a certain young lady that happened to join us for three months. Don't you, Severus?"

Snape felt his insides give an unpleasant lurch.

"Although you were the only student who knew of her existence, there were certain details about her… provenance that we believed had to be concealed from anyone other than Professor McGonagall and myself. Miss Granger -that's her last name, by the way- came from…"

"The future, I know," Snape interrupted him.

Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow slightly but made no other sign of surprise. "Did she tell you?"

"She didn't, I merely deduced it myself."

"I see. Did you also fathom 'when' she was coming from?"

The seed of an idea started to form in Snape's mind, but it couldn't be – no, it was impossible, utterly ridiculous…

"She'll be coming to Hogwarts this September, Severus. She received her letter last week and has answered today."

It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, all he was able to do was sit frozen and try to grasp the enormity of what Dumbledore had just revealed.

Hermione.

Hermione was coming back.

As an eleven-year-old.

Dumbledore's office started to blur before him and he gripped the leather arms of the chair he was sitting in, his knuckles white, desperate for some kind of support.

Was he supposed to sit through her Sorting, was he expected to stay and watch her for seven years… oh Merlin, would he be expected to teach her? He closed his eyes at the thought.

"If I'm no longer needed, Albus, I have matters to attend to," his absurdly calm voice said from somewhere far away, as if it didn't belong to him.

"Certainly, certainly. I won't hold you any longer, Severus."

Still numbed by that same strange feeling of disconnection from his own body, he wordlessly left the Headmaster's office and swept through the empty corridors of the castle in his desperate flight towards the dungeons.

Only once he had reached his quarters did he allow the tears to fall.

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Quote from Hamlet.