A/N: JK Rowling owns all things Harry Potter. This story does not fall in line with the books. This story is also being entered into the Time Travel Challenge set by Paranoid Sarcasm in the Harry Potter Challenge Forum.

Hermione walked wearily into the Great Hall, praying that lunch was still being served. She'd been working harder and longer each night that week, and with only two days to go before the due date she wondered how she'd ever finish her Honors Project on time. A sigh of relief came when she noticed the four other students sitting together at the only table in the room, and then promptly groaned inward upon catching sight of the fifth member.

The six students were in the home stretch of the summer before their seventh and final year at Hogwarts, and each of them had decided that they would finish their time at school with a bang by earning honors in an area of their choice. There was Ernie Macmillan, who seemed to be leading the race for Head Boy and had taken on the monumentally tedious task of rewriting Hogwarts: A History from scratch now that so many new things had been discovered hidden in the vast maze of hall and with all the events surrounding a certain Boy Who Lived. Lavender sat next to him, talking enthusiastically with her hands and gesturing to something Hermione couldn't see, no doubt her project for the newly reinstated Professor Trelawny's class. Neville was also occupied, showing Ron the pitiful looking plant beside him that was supposed to be his Herbology project, while Ron attempted to block Neville out as he poured over the Tranfiguration notes for his own project.

And then there was the person she least liked, the one person who could possibly put a damper on her summer of learning – Malfoy. It had hardly surprised her that he'd chosen Potions for his project, but what had quickly thrown her off balance was the way he acted now that the other Slytherins were no longer around. He wasn't exactly nice, he was Draco after all, but he no longer went out of his way to pick fights and had lowered himself just enough to allow small conversations with the other students, if only to get away from three months of utter boredom and solitude.

She tried not to look at him as she walked to the empty seat across from Ron. The others might have warmed to him a bit more, but Hermione couldn't forget the time he'd called her a 'mudblood.' As she drew closer and sat down at the end of the table next to Lavender she was able to see what the girl had been talking about. In front of her sat a golden hand mirror the size of a dinner plate.

"…and Professor Trelawny just thinks the world of it, says I must have the Sight to have been able to make something like this."

"And just whose death is that batty old woman predicting next?"

"You know Hermione, just because Professor Trelawny told you you didn't have it in you back in our third year doesn't mean you need to criticize her every ten seconds. Besides, this actually works! I've been testing it out all morning. In fact, I think you should try it. Then you'll see. All you have to do is look into the mirror, ask it a question, and it shows you the future! I've only done short-term tests so far, but I'm going to make it work for distant divinations, I know it."

"What? Try that? Please. I have no intention of trying something as silly as fortune telling. A load of rubbish. Besides, I told you last week when you first started showing off this silly mirror, people shouldn't meddle in the future."

"Oh come on 'Mione," said Ron, looking up from his notes with a large smile on his face, "I know it works! I used it this morning at breakfast to find my lucky socks."

"The ones stuffed under your mattress corner?"

"How did you know that!"

"Because that's where you always put them so you don't forget where they are, and that's where they always turn up every time you loose them."

"Well Hermione," interrupted Lavender, "if you don't believe it works then there's no harm in trying it out."

She cast the girl a sideways glance and rolled her eyes. "Oh fine, I'll take a look. Anything to get you to stop talking about it."

Hermione stared at her own reflection, a smirk on her face. "Oh great divination mirror, show me who will be named Head Girl tomorrow." She looked over at the group of students, a look of mock surprise on her face. "Well what do you know," her own reflection staring back at her, "looks like your mirror might just work after all."

She started to hand the mirror back to Lavender, but quickly snatched it back as the polished surface began to cloud over. Hermione stared in confusion as her own reflection was replaced by that of Lavender's before quickly fading away, leaving Hermione staring back at her own horrified face.

What had that been? Surely this thing wasn't about to try and tell her that someone else was going to Head Girl, and Lavender of all people. The very thought of it was completely preposterous. Yes, maybe in some small remote corner of reality there was a tiny tiny chance of Lavender being named. After all, the only mandatory obligation was to successfully complete an Honors Project; the rest was up to the teachers. But so what? Hermione had been the perfect student since the day she'd stepped foot in Hogwarts, surely the mirror simply didn't work as well as Lavender thought it should. She probably just charmed it to show her own face in order make herself feel better.

But though Hermione had managed to convince her mind, her stomach was still heavy with dread as she hurriedly grabbed her belongings, ignoring the surprised questions from her new friends, and quickly walked back to Gryffindor Tower to finish her project, quickly forgetting how hungry she'd been just a few minutes earlier. She passed the rooms of the other students – everyone stayed in one House dormitory since there were only six students as of yet – and quickly slammed her own open, shutting it hurriedly behind her.

She heaved a happy sigh as she looked at her Charms project. This was it, the solution to the problem that had been plaguing her for the past four years. Ever since she'd met Dobby and created S.P.E.W. she'd raked her mind for ideas to solve Hogwarts' house elf problem. And now she'd finally found a way. She looked with great pride at the crumpled rag sitting on the corner of her desk. She carefully spilled a bit of water from a glass onto her desk and watched with the same sense of glee that came each time as the rag swept across the surface of the desk to mop up the mess. It had been her first great breakthrough in her project to create charmed appliances that would eradicate the need for house elves altogether!

There was no doubt, she would be named Head Girl, there was simply a problem with the mirror. She sat down to finish the last phase of her project hoping to get the thought out of her mind. According to the schedule she'd come up with for herself, she should have been done yesterday, but she'd had to hide from Ron so much lately that she'd fallen behind.

As she worked through the familiar initial steps she let her mind drift to the problem of Ron. She'd always been able to sense that he'd liked her, and in a way she'd been very flattered. But he simply wasn't on the same level as she was, he didn't take pride in his studies, and the only thing he ever talked about was Quidditch. What she needed to do was get him away from his silly crush on her and put it onto someone more receptive. But how? And who?

Her mind slowly ceased concerning itself with her project and she began to drift off as she thought of what to say to Ron. And before she could stop herself, she'd fallen asleep.

Her head felt stuffy and somewhat heavier as she felt herself being shaken. Her head rose from its stiff place on her arms to find a mound of red hair trying to wake her up.

" 'Mione you've got to wake up!"

Her eyes opened a bit more and when she realized who it was she jerked back with a start and nearly fell off her seat. "Ron what the bloody hell are you doing in here? You scared me half to death! And you're not even supposed to be in the girl's dorms!"

"That doesn't matter! Hermione where have you been? You missed the deadline! Everyone has already turned in their projects and the teachers have already voted! No one knew you were still up here, we all assumed you'd seen Flitwick. I'm so sorry."

"What do you mean already voted? That isn't supposed to happen until lunch time!"

"It's PAST lunchtime!"

Hermione stared in utter shock at her friend. Was it true? Could she really have missed the deadline? She knew Ron wouldn't lie to her about something this important. But that would mean…

"Ron… Who did they name Head Girl?"

"Look 'Mione I'm really sorry, we all know you were meant to have it, you just–"

"Who Ron?"

"…Lavender. Ernie got Head Boy."

Her eyes clouded over with tears and she slumped forward, her head buried in her arms. How could this be happening? Why? She'd worked so hard, only to have lost it all at the last moment.

"Please go away Ron."

He looked down at her, as though wanting to say or do something, anything to make her not look so horribly sad, but he couldn't think of anything, so he left, closing the door softly behind him.

Hermione woke up the next morning in her bed to the sound of owls hooting loudly. Her eyes cracked open, the bright light making her head pound. She sat up groggily, letting herself gradually wake up and adjust, and then everything came crashing back at her. The mirror. The unfinished project. Lavender as Head Girl. Not her. Lavender. The tears came again, heavy and hot, and her whole body felt as though it might fall to pieces.

She would have preferred to stay in bed all day, all year if possible. Anything to keep her from running into another living being, to know what everyone else must have heard by now – it wasn't her. Unfortunately her stomach had other plans for her. As much as she might wish to lock herself away, she was beginning to feel a bit dizzy from hunger.

She dressed slowly, praying the other students would be gone, off celebrating or whatever else, and she could be left alone to eat in peace and misery. Unfortunately, her wish was not to be granted. As she trudged into the Great Hall, barely aware of the walk down, she found the table full of people, just as it always was.

"Hey 'Mione!" Ron shouted happily across the room upon seeing her walk in, "You've got to come take a look at Lavender's project!"

"I've already seen it, remember?"

Lavender looked up at her, somewhat laughing. "What are you talking about? I only just started finishing it last night. What did you do, sneak into my room or something?"

Hermione ignored her question and attempted to look somewhat less miserable for the sake of her friend. "Well, congratulations."

"Huh? For what?"

"You got Head Girl. I'm really… happy for you."

"Granger you've been hanging around those charmed dust clothes too long, they've started affecting your brain. They aren't naming the Heads until after the deadline, remember? And we've still got another week yet before that."

"What are you talking about Malfoy? Projects were due yesterday, or did you miss it, too?

She expected some scathing remark about how at least he hadn't blown the chance to be a Head, but instead all she got was a series of confused looks.

"Hermione," Neville said, "He's right. The due date is still a week away. And, it's a good thing, too. I don't know what I'm going to do about my plant. For some reason it just isn't growing like it should. Hopefully I'll be able to figure something out."

Hermione took two seconds to let the information sink in and then promptly ran as fast as her legs would take her back up to her room, barely able to breathe by the time she'd reached the far end of the wall where the calendar her parents had bought her was hanging. And there it was. Her calendar, too, was telling her that was a week earlier than she thought. There was no mistake, she was very meticulous when it came to marking off days.

Something was very very wrong.