Time Defyer

Chapter III: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

1977

"If you move, I'll be forced to stop you." Hermione sighed at the voice that undeniably belonged to her old professor. He may have been two decades younger, but he had certainly already developed the tone of authority.

"Stop who?" rang the three others concurrently. They apparently hadn't realized at what—or whom—Lupin was staring.

"Disillusion yourself and start talking," Lupin demanded, slowly reaching to his back pocket where Hermione was sure his wand rested.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione nodded and pointed her own wand at her head once more, muttering the reverse incantation. The warm trickle and three gasps indicated to her that once more she was visible. Only Lupin was the one who stayed still, though Hermione did swear she saw a bit of respect for her enchantment in his eyes. Disillusionment was, after all, advanced magic in its own right.

"Holy shit!" the man to the left of Lupin exclaimed unabashedly. "Where'd you come from? Moony, how'd you know she was there?"

In spite of everything, Hermione had to restrain a laugh. He was, without a doubt, the infamous Sirius Black; except in this time, infamous for being the heartthrob bad boy. She hardly recognized him, and probably wouldn't have if he hadn't been with the rest of the Marauders, or at least if she hadn't been so familiar with his eyes. She'd come to know they told a lot about a person. That they really were the windows to a person's soul. Sirius's were no exception, and the stormy gray irises in this Sirius matched the hues of the future Sirius, barring the amount of cheerfulness in them. Apart from that, though, Hermione wasn't so oblivious as to not be able to see how Sirius could be interpreted as attractive. With careless black hair that fell into his eyes, tanned skin, and expression constantly full of a hidden (or not so hidden as the cases could be) smile, he was obviously every girl's fantasy. Now, however, was hardly the time for such observations.

"Honestly, Sirius, it amazes me how blind you can be," Lupin admonished, keeping his eyes firmly on Hermione's. "However, I suppose that ignorance should be devoted to James and Peter as well. As excellent as the spellwork may have been, Disillusionment charms are always able to be detected. They are meant for disguising, not for disappearing."

Hermione tried not to take the indirect compliment to heart as she kept her stoicism. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just offend me and suggest before we start the whole interrogation business we at least get some food," the man to Sirius's left interjected.

For a split second, Hermione had been sure she was back in 1996 and speaking to Harry. Not only was the comment something Harry would say (though admittedly it was more of Ron's department), but he could have been Harry's twin. His dark hazel eyes were a far cry from Harry's emerald ones and James's physique was substantially more muscular, but the hair, glasses, and stance were all identical. Hermione forced herself not to say some sarcastic comment as she would if he were Harry, lest she dig herself into an even deeper hole.

"As for the second question," Lupin continued, ignoring James's comment, "I'd like to know that myself."

Hermione was all too aware of the deafening silence that followed Lupin's words, and knew quite well it was her turn to speak. "Erm…yes…hello…" she stammered, cursing herself for it being now, the most inopportune moment, that her eloquence had to fail her.

Still, it was hard to get over the strangeness of the situation. So far, each of them had proven his persona identical to what she'd heard. Lupin the shrewd scholar, James the sardonic athlete, Sirius the joking poster boy, and Peter the—Hermione's eyes darted to him immediately, his speech interrupting her suddenly unpleasant musings.

"Articulate, isn't she?" Peter snickered.

As he talked, she took in his appearance with disgust. As objective as she could be, she still couldn't figure out how the Marauders had decided to induct Peter into their group. Pudgy, pale, height-challenged, watery-eyed, and with a mop of tawny hair meant to resemble Sirius's—it fell miserably short of its goal—he was thoroughly nondescript and unsightly. Just looking at him made her clench her fingers around her wand and grit her teeth in order to prevent herself from attacking him.

"Shut up," she snapped, not expecting James to have joined her in saying it.

She looked at him in gratitude, but had not expected his gaze to be cold and calculating. "I think it's high time you explained," he said firmly. "Where are you from?"

Hermione nearly thanked him in relief at the way he posed the question. It saved her, at least for this current second, a very difficult situation. "To be honest, a very long ways away," she answered truthfully enough.

"Well, we've never seen you before, but you obviously didn't Apparate in, so you're either worse than You-Know-Who on the Dark magic scale or you're some sort of exchange student," James deduced.

Hermione didn't want to lie, but she knew now would be the start of many. "I'm in no way involved in any black magic," she answered. "So yes, I suppose you could call me an exchange student."

Lupin still looked cautious, but James seemed to accept it. Sirius, she found out, did as well when he grabbed her hand and shook it unreservedly. "Then welcome," he said with a grin.

Somehow, however, judging by Lupin's expression, she knew her troubles were far from over. Regardless of what Sirius said.

1996

Harry heaved closed what seemed his five-hundredth book that night—this one entitled Time and Its Uses—and he took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes wearily. After a brief respite to get the Invisibility Cloak like he'd anticipated, they had come in after Madam Pince left and began perusing the shelves once more. Looking across the table, he could tell Ron was having about the same luck as he. That is to say, none.

"We're never going to find it in here," Harry whispered dishearteningly. "We've looked through every book imaginable that could have to do with time travel and come up with nothing."

Ron nodded in concurrence as he snapped his book shut, too. "We still can't just leave her there," he objected.

"I know that," Harry said. "Don't you think I want to get her back? Who knows what she could have done to alter history by going back to my parents…and Professor Lupin…and Sirius…and Wormtail? I mean, she—wait. Wormtail. Ron, do you know what this means? She has the chance to end this forever!"

Ron shook his head sadly. "Mate, I want You-Know-Who as dead and gone just as much as you do, but that isn't the way to do it. You do realize that by doing that it could mean you never being born? I'm not sure how exactly, but I'm sure time and space can scramble events around enough to make it happen. I wish it were that easy to finish You-Know-Who, but I don't think that's how it's supposed to go."

Harry's mouth was open in protest, but no sound came out. "I suppose you're right," he consented finally. "I just wish there was a way to contact her or something. Just see if she's all right. Maybe even ask her how everyone is over there. You know, I kinda wish it'd've been me who traveled there…would have been amazing to see everyone."

Ron half-smiled at him sympathetically. "I think it's time we talked to Parvati," he said. A few weeks ago it probably would have been Lavender, but even in the wizarding world it was never comfortable to talk to an ex about the girl who had been the main cause of the breakup in the first place.