Monica stupidly tried to find a place to hide, but such places are scarce in a closet filled with broomsticks. When the door opened, Monica tried to look casual, as if she had meant to close herself in the broom closet.
Unfortunately, Monica had never been a very good actress, and it was quite obvious to her discoverer that she had not meant to close herself in the broom closet.
"Just what do you think you are doing in there?" Monica was spared having to come up with a lie, but only due to the fact that the wizard who found her thought he knew exactly why she was in the closet. He grabbed her arm and pulled her out into the corridor. He was a skeletally thin man with robes that bulged at every joint as if they had been thrown over a skeleton instead of a real man.
"So you're the one who's been nicking the broomsticks!"
"No, I… I haven't been! It wasn't me!" Monica sputtered, trying to pull out of the thin man's grasp.
"There's a detector spell on that closet, missy." He pointed his bony index finger at the closet's door. "Anyone appears inside without opening the door, and I know about it! Thought you could steal another handful of brooms, eh? I knew that someone was disapperating away with them…"
"I apperated incorrectly, I'm sorry!" she apologized quickly.
"What?"
"I've – I've only just got my license and I miscalculated."
"Is that true? Then what's your name? I can bring you right down to the transportation office and we'll see when you got your license." For being a terribly thin man, he had a terribly strong grip, and Monica could feel it tightening over her arm, as if he knew she was desperate to escape the lie she had just told. What could she do? She didn't know what year it was; she might not have even been born yet! They wouldn't have any record of her real name and then she'd be in big trouble for giving a false name.
"Monica Rivenn," she answered the man, truthfully and quietly.
"Follow me, then, missy. And give me your wand."
Deciding it would be best to not make a scene, Monica handed the man her wand and followed him quietly towards the elevator. She looked at each passing witch and wizard imploringly, searching for clues as to what year it could be. Hairdos were the biggest giveaway, as wizard attire never changed much over the years. It was between 1900 and 1950, but she didn't have enough time to look long enough to get a better estimate.
A group of older teenaged witches, not too much younger than Monica, were gabbing loudly with each other, and Monica managed to catch the eye of one of them, a blonde witch. Monica glanced significantly at the thin man and then shook her head at the onlooking girl, hoping that she would realize she needed help.
"Hey! There you are!" the girl said excitedly at Monica, who had to suppress a relieved grin. The other girls in the group stopped their conversations and looked on curiously.
"You know her?" the man asked.
"Yes sir," she replied stepping in their path.
"Too bad," he said, obviously annoyed that she had stopped their progress. "She's on her way downstairs for a little chat with the head of the Department of Transportation."
"Please, I don't know what she did to get in trouble, but we're going to be late without her."
"Well, she was... she was"
"I'm so glad you made it," the girl said to Monica, casually taking the man's hand off Monica's arm, and taking back Monica's wand for her. He was so surprised by her initiative that he wasn't grasping either Monica's arm or wand very tightly.
"Let's hurry," the blonde girl said.
The man stood in the center of the corridor, confused. "Hey... wait!"
But Monica had her wand in hand, and she and the group of girls were already trotting quickly towards the atrium.
"Someone stop them!" the thin man shouted, starting after them.
"Let's apperate to the creek," the blonde girl told the four other girls, who each nodded in agreement, but Monica didn't know what to do. She couldn't apperate somewhere unless she knew where exactly it was.
They reached the Atrium, and ran to the disapperating area and each of the four other girls waved their wands and disappeared.
"What do I" she started to ask the blonde girl, but the girl was already waving her wand complexly. She pointed it at Monica and finished the incantation. Monica was surrounded by a blue light, and the feeling of disapperation took over. A second later, she was stumbling forward on a beaten dirt path, surrounded by trees. The other four girls were there although one of them was a little ways off.
"Come on, Nancy!" the three laughed at the one that was far away. "You can't apperate anywhere!"
The blonde witch appeared.
"Thank you so much!" Monica said. "I don't know what to say; you got me out of a real fix."
"Don't mention it," she said, smiling brightly. "I even work at the Department of Transportation, so I can make sure this is all forgotten."
"Amazing," Monica marveled. "Transportation... is that why you know how to make other people apperate?"
"Sure is! Not many people can, obviously, but it's part of my job. I can fix a splinch or what have you... what's your name, by the way?"
"Monica."
"I'm Beverly," the blonde girl said. "And this is Harriet, Wendy, Ethel, and that's Nancy down the path."
Monica nodded and smiled, instantly forgetting each of their names.
"How old are you?" one of them asked.
"24," Monica replied, hoping the conversation wouldn't turn to Hogwarts.
"So what's your story?" Beverly asked. "I'm pretty sure I didn't just help out a criminal."
"I'll tell you... but may I first ask one thing?" Monica took a breath. "Could you tell me what year it is?"
The girls looked at each other cautiously.
"Excuse me?" Beverly asked.
"The year. I need to know the year, and the month and day if you could."
There was stunned silence.
"1960!" one of them answered, and all of them except Beverly laughed.
"Of course!" the curly haired one giggled, "you're living in the future!"
"Stop it, Nancy." Beverly said. "She's serious."
"What, has her memory been modified or something?" Nancy asked Beverly.
"I'm right here," Monica said, trying not to sound cross. "You don't have to talk as if I'm not listening."
"You tell us your story, and we'll tell you what year it is," Nancy said.
Monica wondered if it wouldn't have been better to stay with the thin man at the Ministry building. Could she tell them the truth?
She took another breath. "I fell off my broomstick, or at least I think I did. I woke up next to it, and I couldn't remember being on it, so I apperated to the Ministry building for help"
"I can see why that wizard thought you were up to no good," Beverly interrupted. "You're a terrible liar."
"Fine! Do you really want to know? I work at the Ministry of Magic, with time-turners. I was testing one to see that it was in working order, and it broke after I turned it," Monica pulled on the chain around her neck until the time-turner reached her hand. She held the tiny, empty hourglass out, and they all moved closer to see it. "I went back in time, but I have no idea how far back. That's how I got in trouble with that man."
The girls all pulled back. There was a long silence that contained many exchanged glances. The witch Monica thought was called Ethel broke the silence.
"What's a time-turner?"
Monica was taken aback. "What?"
"She asked what a time-turner is," Beverly said.
"You don't know?"
"Is that one?" one of them asked, pointing at the hourglass around her neck.
Another laughed, "That's just a charm."
"I forgot," Monica sighed. "Time-turners weren't taken out of the Department of Mysteries until 1930... It's before 1930, isn't it?"
Another awkward silence threatened to swell into the conversation, but Beverly stilted it with a laugh.
"Monica," she chuckled, "I don't know what happened to you, but it must have been bad. It's 1926, September 20th. Do you have a husband, a family, any friends to stay with?"
"No," Monica answered.
"Well, you're going to stay with us, until we discover where you belong."
The other girls didn't look as if they liked this sudden turn of events, but none of them said anything. Monica knew that Beverly didn't believe her story, but she was offering a safe place to live, and Monica wasn't in a position to turn that down.
"That sounds good."
"We'd better start back home," the curly-haired one said to Beverly. "It's getting dark."
"Why can't we apperate?" Monica asked.
"We live in a muggle town, and we don't want to accidentally be seen," said Beverly, starting her way up the path.
The atmosphere between Monica and the other girls was somewhat stilted, but Beverly managed to lighten the mood enough for them to be laughing and telling stories in no time. Monica discovered that the girls had all graduated from Hogwarts two years ago and moved to the small muggle town together.
Beverly was clearly the leader of the group, but Monica quickly learned how each girl fit in, even though she couldn't remember any of their names. Nancy, the one who apperated further away from the group, was notoriously bad at casting spells, but the other girls explained that she was an amazing potion-maker. Ethel, the tallest of the group, was a soft spoken young woman who worked with a wand-maker in Diagon Alley. Wendy was quite loud and animated as she told Monica that she still wasn't quite sure what she wanted to do with her life, as long as she found a nice wizard to share her life with. Harriet was the quietest during their walk, but Monica sensed it wasn't because she was a quiet person; Harriet had an intense look about her, and her laughter was stilted during conversation. Monica could tell that Harriet didn't like her at all.
The dirt path turned into a stone one as it approached the town. Small houses and stores lined the twilight-lit main street. A woman was calling out to her sons to come inside and get to bed. It was quaint and foreign to Monica, but nonetheless pleasing in a way.
The full weight of traveling back in time began to press onto Monica's thoughts. There was no way to get back; she was here for good. She was going to spend the rest of her life in the past, as she had always secretly wanted. What kind of effect would she have? She kicked herself for having no memory of names, or else she'd be able to look up famous wizards and witches before they were famous.
"Monica?"
Beverly woke Monica from her daze. They had reached the house. The thin, two-story building was wedged between a pub and an ice cream parlor near the edge of town.
"It's wonderful," Monica grinned.
"You're just saying that because you don't know any better," Beverly laughed. "I'm sure we can get you some kind of muggle job around town to pay for rent and clothes and whatever else you need until you find your head."
Monica almost protested that her head did not need to be found, but bit her tongue and just nodded. She could get a muggle job for now, until she figured out a way to get her name, legally, into the Ministry of Magic for a proper job.
That night, Monica could hardly sleep. Every warning she had been given throughout her training was buzzing through her head. Nothing was going to happen, she said to herself, trying to relax. She was going to live out her life normally, once everything got sorted out.
The only thing that bugged her was the fact that her future self had never gotten a sign that she had traveled back in time. Why hadn't she? Now she couldn't send a sign, because she had never gotten one while in the future, so sending one would be pointless.
"Maybe I sent one, and it never got to me?" she thought to herself, but that was absurd. If it never got to her, why would she even bother sending it, knowing that it wouldn't get there? She could send something to her friends, telling her what happened, but she reminded herself that she didn't have any friends who would be looking for her.
Except perhaps Harry Potter. It had been only a couple of days, and he never contacted her again, but maybe he would try to find her. Maybe, she thought, I should send some kind of message for him to find after my disappearance.
Sleep finally took Monica, and she dreamed of her night with Harry Potter, knowing that there was no way for her to ever see him again, and wondered if he'd be looking for her, eighty years into the future.
