Hermione had been in the Potions lab for the last three hours, at least.
Never one to put off until later what could be done now, Hermione had insisted on starting the aging potion immediately. By morning, she and Harry would be returned to their appropriate ages. Well, closer, anyways. The maximum dose for a twelve year old only aged them two years. Fourteen, however, was much better than twelve when trying to get someone's attention. Hermione thought it was enough to be believed. And, if not, they could take a second dose two weeks later. With such time constraints, though, it was best to start now.
Honestly, she was worried. It had crossed her mind, certainly, that no-one would take them seriously, would be able to see behind their appearences. But it wasn't until she took a good look at Draco, until she saw the scorn in his face, the face of someone "older" than her. In that moment, she realized that even she was decieved by appearences. She was taking him more seriously because he appeared to be an adult. She had known him for six years, knew he rarely formed an intelligent opinion on anything, and she was certainly was aware of how little intrest he had in her well being. Which is why, when she found herself respecting his council, it made up her mind: aging potion, as soon as possible.
Though it had other good effects, as well. Such as that, looking more like themselves, it would help the time-travelers to feel more like themselves. Hermione knew what a delicate situation they were in, how easy it would be for any of them to break down. She couldn't really decide who she was most worried about.
Neville seemed almost happy. If it was genuine, then she wondered what could have possibly have been bad enough to make this seem good. More likely, at least in her mind, was that he was in shock, or was simply covering his true emotions. Even if he truly wasn't in shock or faking it, it was obvious that he blamed himself, for the others' circumstances. This, by itself, was enough to worry Hermione. When she'd glanced his way during dinner, she'd caught him staring at the others with an expression of pain and self-loathing. If she wasn't so worried about so many things, she might have spent tonight trying to talk him out of his shell. Hopefully, he wasn't so upset that he'd try to harm himself.
Draco was another story entirely. He was, quite obviously, still in shock, and incapable of his normal aristocratic mask. In fact, he was acting quite contrary to his usual hostile nature, seeming to be almost protective of their group. It seemed that even Draco himself seemed somewhat fooled by the image of their age changes; while he wasn't treating them as children, he was taking the situation as seriously as any "adult" in such a situation.
Perhaps it was because she was closest to him, but Harry had her the most worried. He'd faded into the background so well that she'd missed his initial reactions to the situation. Now that the shock had worn off, he had successfully buried his feelings behind his mental shields. His eyes had an odd look to them that she'd learned to recognize, as though there was a translucent shield between him and the outside; he was making use of his Occlumency training.
There seemed no hope in actually getting him to tell her what was going on, either. Harry had been nearly completely silent. When he had responded, he'd spoken in a tone that was oddly both biting and immensely sad. It seemed as though he were fighting inner demons, and Hermione hadn't a clue what those could be. Perhaps it has something to do with our "sorting". Hermione thought to herself. It would be disturbing to be sorted into Slytherin, especially having been chosen for that place over someone actually from that house. Though, really, it doesn't exactly take much to be more cunning than Draco Malfoy. She snorted. Honestly, if it hadn't been Harry, I think I might have been the next most likely candidate.
A strong, sickly sweet smell knocked Hermione from her reverie. Oh, NO! She thought, spying the neon green contents of the cauldron, then the un-ground ones of the morter and panicking. I forgot to add the hickory bark! Her hands nearly flew as she ground the bark to dust, and added it into the potion. One moment of anxious waiting later, the potion chaned to a calm blue color, and the smoke disappeared. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, it wasn't ruined. I need a break she thought, the potion needs to simmer for three and a half hours. It's good timing, though; I'm so distracted I could easily make a horrible mistake. She rolled her eyes. I'm supposed to be the logical, cool-headed one. The stress of this mess must really be getting to me.
Five plus years of potions classes ingrained the necessity to clean up before taking a break. Hermione carefully tucked her supplies back into a perfectly-organized cabinet that held nearly every potions ingredient or tool imagineable. She seriously doubted that even Snapes' private lab was so well stocked. It was really a phenomenal find, this room. Harry had brought her here after her announcement, having discovered the room the previous night.
After seeing the contents of this room, Hermione thought, glancing about to make sure all was in order I doubt we'll even need anything that hasn't already been provided. It nearly nullifies the need for making this potion; having seen this place, I suspect that the library is nearly as thouroughly stocked. Really, I need to do some exploring; who knows what other impossible, wonderful rooms are hidden in this place? And first thing she grinned to herself gleefully, I'm going to go through every book in that library.
The cleaning finished, Hermione left the room. Turning, she sealed the door behind her with a charm that, while fairly easy to break, would leave behind the magical signature of anyone who did so. The place was big enough that, despite Dumbledore's assurances, Hermione wasn't quite confident that no one else (or nothing else) inhabited the space. After all, she couldn't imagine so much space simply wasted.
The potions lab was situated off of a corridor that stretched to the left of Harry's room. There were doors, leading to small, efficient, two person dorm-style rooms stretching the length of the corridor. There was housing enough, in just this corridor between Harry's room and the Potions Lab, for at least two dozen people. This seemed somewhat confirm Hermione's idea of staff quarters. It was mentioned in Hogwarts, a History that the castle was originally intended to house and educate many times the number of students as it did at present. Apparently, the number of those born with magical powers had declined drasticly; this was what had preceded the pureblood dislike of mixing with muggles.
It had been a topic of much interest for Hermione, being something that hit so close to home. Throughout her years of school, she had done as much independent research as she could manage on the topic, discovering many things that assured her. While the decline of magic had originally been blamed on mixing with muggles, later research disproved the theory. The most obvious proof was that, should magic really be passed through bloodlines, a true "Muggle-born" would be impossible.
The theory that made the most sense was that, in fact, magic had never really declined. Every person, according to the theory, was born with some magical capacity. The theory, called the Inherent Capacity theory (for obvious reasons), stated that what had actually declined was magical understanding. The theory also said that, with the continuing belief that magic could be used like an equation, move your wand this way, say this, do that; the results of the spells themselves had become less powerful. According to the theory, a wand and an incantation were originally meant only as a focal point for a witch or wizard, and that the actual magic was done by intent, by the concious extention of their own magic into the magic that surrounded them. The conclusion was that magic was truly driven by a deep understanding of the world, and the loss of this understanding had driven the decline. Because of this, only those with what would once have been considered an incredible magical ability and an inherent understanding of magic were actually be able to wield magic.
Really, though, none of that mattered at present; it was break time. It would be three full hours before the potion was ready, and Hermione'd had all she could take of dungeons for now. No matter that the dungeon she'd been working in was a far sight more... welcoming than the Potions classroom, it was still a dungeon. Still stone, still darker than she'd like, and still far too enclosed for a mind tortured by uncertainty. She needed room to think, someplace farmiliar enough to be comforting, yet where she'd be left alone to sort things out. My best bet, Hermione thought, is a walk through the caslte proper. At this time of night, if I stick to back staircases, I should be left to myself.
Intent on avoiding the others for the time being, Hermione turned in the opposite direction of Harry's rooms. She had a sneaking suspicion regarding this corridor and a certain staircase that lead down from the one to her rooms; if she was right, it would be her ticket to the peace and quiet she sought. Hermione was pretty sure Harry was still pacing, and even more certain that he would disapprove - strongly - of her current plan. I really do wish I could help him she thought, honestly, though, I need to sort through this on my own right now.
Hermione found, much to her satisfaction, that the corridor ended in a staircase. The rest of the hallway had been a mirror image of the first half, full of dorm-style rooms, though she didn't peek in every door. She crept quietly up the carpet of the stairs, still wary of alerting anyone else to her intentions, and was relieved to find the common room empty. The slight feeling of guilt from sneaking out was overwhelmed by the giddy feeling of freedom as she slipped out the door, and into the castle.
Nearly two hours later found Hermione tucked into her favorite little niche in the corridor one floor down from the entrance to Gryffindor tower. No matter how public the area had a tendancy to be, there was almost no chance of anyone being there at five in the morning. She also knew, from years as a prefect, that teachers didn't patrol this part of the castle, specifically because it was so public. That, and it didn't have any of the things to draw one to it that the other public areas of the castle had.
It was without the door to the outside contained in the great hall, or the ability to wreak havoc on ones' peers available in the great hall, or the lure of food of the kitchens. The only thing the place had to offer was a study nook, complete with comfy window seats and a great view. Simply put, Hermione had discovered the art of hiding in plain sight. It was the only thing Hermione did on her own to break the rules. It was worth it, though, as she watched the sunrise. It was coming up on six, now, and it was nearly time to go back and take the potion. No matter how many times she saw this scene, watched the day begin, she was still captivated by the view. And she'd been coming here since third year. More than three years she'd retreated to this spot when she needed to think.
Which is why she wasn't too surprised when she saw the foot, seemingly sitting by itself and unattached to any supporting structure, not four feet from her. Six years of Harry watching out for her in his Invisibility Cloak had taught her not to be startled by such things. Honestly, he's so over-protective sometimes. The first time he'd found her here, he'd been wearing the cloak. For years now, though, he'd simply come as he was. If he was using the cloak, he must think she was upset with him, or that she was so distraut she'd mind even his company.
"Harry, honestly, you didn't have to use the cloak." She was met by silence. Obviously, he didn't realize he'd been found out. She stood up, stared right at where the face belonging to that foot must be and incanted Accio invisibility cloak.
And found herself staring straight into the visages of a young James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black.
For an instant, just an instant, Hermione considered screaming their fates to them. Perhaps, just perhaps, she could save them from the horror their futures held. For an instant after that, for the first time in her life, she contemplated killing; killing Peter. Then she saw the honest, startled look in the eyes of the fifteen-ish year old boy, and was horrified by her own thoughts.
A wave of fear such as she had never known overcame Hermione in that instant. Fear not only of herself, or even of her thoughts, but of the future, of the incredible amount of power suddenly in the hands of herself and her friends. It was a fear so intense that it burned through her veins and left her shaking, unable for a moment to do any more than quake in fear.
And then the moment passed, and Hermione Granger, level-headed Gryffindor, panicked, turned, and ran.
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Hermione had been in the Potions lab for the last six hours, at least. And the entire time she'd been there, Harry Potter had been pacing the ground, worried. After initially being kicked out of the lab for hovering while Hermione worked, he'd contemplated paced outside the lab door. Knowing he'd bother her if he was too near, he'd moved his pacing to the common room.
Harry felt he was doing the best out of the group. The only truly bad things about what had happened - well, actually, there were alot of them, but bad things - especially near-impossible ones - were hardly a new concept for him. To be quite truthful, had their group simply included Ron, he wouldn't even bother mourning the lives they left behind. Sure, there was the whole Slytherin-resorting thing, but so? It's not like it was new information, even if he would rather have kept that little tidbit from his friends. No, not his friends. Only Hermione was here. He'd never see Ron, not the same Ron anyhow, again.
C'mon, Potter, he reprimanded himself, you have a lot of chances to make a change. Stop being so selfish. Besides, there are others here that you know. I mean, Sirius is alive, here, and Voldemort isn't at full power, and there is no prophecy, and ... my parents, my parents are here. I might even meet them. I wonder where they are, or what they're doing right now? I wonder what they'd do if they met me. Wait, what year is it? How old are they?
Pivoting, he started back across the carpet. His mind pivoted topics at the same time. Hermione. Hermione was there, was with him. Harry would never choose between his friends, but, in the current situation, he could be glad that Hermione was there. After all, if there was any way back, any way at all, Harry knew she'd find it. Although he had more than somewhat of a suspision that the whole project was simply make-work, to keep their minds occupied until they could fully handle the reality of their situation. Even if that was the case, he agreed with her. For now, he would let himself believe there was a chance. He needed to. At the moment, though, he just wished the aging potion would hurry up.
"She's been down there for ages." Harry complained, then winced at the childish, whineing tone. Right that moment, he felt very much the twelve year old he appeared. "She really should be done by now. What's taking so bloody lo-"
The door opened, right in front of him. No one should have been coming in that door. Not the door to the dungeons, the door to the main part of the castle. And most of all, the person coming through that door shouldn't have been Hermione. But it was. This is just too much. Harry mentally ranted. I can't believe she left and didn't tell me. And how in hell did she get out of there without me noticing? She slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against it, panting. He was just about to begin ranting out loud, when Hermione interupted him in a rush.
"Come on, Harry, it's done." she said, breathlessly, shoving away from the door and dashing towards the downward-leading stairs. "The sooner we take this potion, the sooner we can start the real work."
She didn't think he would hear, but Harry caught her adding, under her breath "And the better the chance we get out of here before one of us does something drastic" Harry couldn't help but feel that was the oddest thing he'd ever heard her say. He was truly curious what she'd seen or heard that had driven her to such statements, or such a flurry of activity.
It only took a few moments, despite the long corridor, for the two of them to arrive at the Potions Lab. With a flick of her wrist, Hermione had the wards disabled. She was through the door before Harry had even seen her draw the wand. What is going on? Harry wondered, staring at the door as though he'd never seen one. Something must have happened. I've never seen Hermione so flustered. By the time he entered the lab, Hermione had the cauldron off the flame, and a dose of it in her hand.
Harry froze. Something in him screamed wrongness. It was like there was something, something he understood about the interaction of the ingredients, something that souldn't be, that wasn't right. It was almost as though he could see the magic in the potion, and see Hermione's aura, or perhaps, more exactly, her magical essence. And there was something about those two things, seen together, that was just... off. Very off.
"Hermione, stop!" He yelled.
Hermione almost dropped the vial in surprise. "Huh?" she said, in an uncharachteristic lack of eloquence.
"Don't drink it" Harry said, still sensing the wrongness.
Hermione lowered the vial "Harry... I know I made it correctly. And the ward on the door would have told me if anyone had come in here to tamper with it. There's no need to worry"
The sense of wrongness had faded drastically when Hermione lowered the vial, leaving Harry feeling somewhat akward for second-guessing his friend. "I, Hermione, it isn't that, there's just... something..."
Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him, in a frighteningly Malfoy way.
"I know I'm being ridiculous. You can make fun of me all you want later, I swear." No matter how faded the feeling, Harry was going to trust his instincts. They'd saved him so many times in the Magical world that ignoring them now would be just plain stupid.
"Please, just for me" Harry said. "You can have the rest later, just... will you please take a smaller dose? One year older should be enough to notice, in a twelve year old. Just to make sure. If nothing happens, I swear, you can drink it all and turn yourself fourty if you want."
"But Harry"
"Please, Herm. I have a bad feeling about this."
"Oh, for heavens' sake, I'll drink it" Draco said from the doorway. Harry hadn't noticed him until he spoke, but his immediate reaction surprised him. Instead of the usual animosity, Harry felt oddly relieved. Then he felt guilty, for being relieved that someone other than Hermione could take the risk.
"Harry?" Hermione asked, getting his opinion. When push came to shove, she trusted his instincts, too.
Harry nodded. "Fine." He said. He wanted to say more, to thank the Slytherin for taking the risk, or to caution him, or something. But the longtime animosity stood in the way of saying anything else.
Draco didn't respond, he simply grabbed the goblet from Hermione, and downing all of it in one gulp.
Hermione drew in a sharp breath.
Draco was sixteen again.