Tempus Fugit
By Fangs of Poison
Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything. Does anyone else, other than me, find these really stupid and pointless? I mean, if I did own these characters, I would be selling my stories, not posting them on the internet for everyone to see and read for free!
Chapter Two:
On a crisp, November day in 1977, as any student who was there could testify, the shrill sound of screaming interrupted their afternoon classes.
A torrent of students and teachers rushed into the hallway, hoping to discern the cause of this racket. They were not disappointed. For there, prone on the floor, lay a teenage girl.
A few of the teachers rushed forward, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, to be specific, and, after checking the girl over for any physical ailments (besides the obvious lack of consciousness) and a quick, whispered conversation (which the students, needless to say, were not privy to), the girl was levitated to the hospital wing.
Whiteness. The first thing Hermione could noticed about her surroundings was the stark whiteness of everything. The second thing Hermione noticed was the smell of "sick" that all hospitals had, immediately quelling her fears that she'd died and the white was actually the clouds of Heaven.
She rubbed her eyes and sat up, almost falling over again when met with the ice blue orbs of the headmaster.
"Professor Dumbledore?" she questioned, "What are you doing here?"
He blinked, momentarily startled, then cleared his throat and spoke, "Well, this is my school, Miss…?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Granger, sir, Hermione Granger, you know that. And I'm quite aware that this is your school, particularly as I attend it, and have done so for the past seven years!"
It was Dumbledore's turn to narrow his eyes, "Miss Granger, if that is your name, you are not a student of mine. Frankly, I've never seen you before."
Hermione snorted, "Of course you have! Don't you remember, I'm best friends with Harry and Ron!"
At his blank look she furiously added "Harry Potter and Ron Weasley! We're all in Gryffindor, surely you know what I'm talking about!"
"Miss Granger, the only 'Potter' I know is 'James Potter', a seventh year Gryffindor, himself!"
"That's impossible! James Potter's dead!" Hermione furiously spat, "Stop messing around! You know who I am, and probably more than any other student here!"
"Wait a moment, did you say James Potter's dead?" Dumbledore quickly questioned, a sudden comprehension glinting in his eyes.
Hermione, not noticing this, rolled hers, in response. "Yes, Professor, James Potter's dead. He died in 1981 and-"
Dumbledore held up his hand, interrupting her tirade, "Miss Granger, please tell me what year it is."
"It's 1997, Professor," Hermione automatically replied, "But I don't see –"
"Currently, Miss Granger, it is 1977. November 23, 1977 to be exact."
"No! That's impossible! It's 1997, Professor! October 11!"
"No, my dear, I'm afraid it isn't. It would seem that you've gone back in time." Dumbledore replied gravely.
"Oh, well, that's fine!" Hermione spoke, her voice shaking with false confidence, "You just need to get me back, right sir?"
Dumbledore stared down at the girl, looking petite in her over-large hospital gown. He sighed and ran a hand through his beard, knowing that this would, indeed, crush the child's spirit. How could he tell the hopeful, shining face that she may have to wait twenty-years to see her loved ones again.
He took a deep breath, "The truth, Miss Granger, is that I don't know of a way to get you back."
A/N: Thank you to those who reviewed! I'll try to get another chapter out as soon as I can! (Although that may, or may not, be a good thing!) Again, I'd really appreciate it if you'd review, as would my less-than-astounding muse!