Time Defyer

Chapter IV: Dumbledore

1977

"Well, how about you sit down and tell us more about you," James suggested, his light tone not quite as sincere as Hermione guessed he meant it to be.

Knowing she had no other option—she surmised Lupin wouldn't let her get off that easy—she hesitatingly took one of the armchairs and readied herself for the web of lies she was irrefutably going to spew momentarily. "Yeah…if you're an exchange student, which we've not had many of, how come you're here?" Sirius questioned.

Hermione called upon her imagination to help save her, and then faked a sad expression. "Well, for starters, my name is Hermione Granger," she said carefully. She guessed there was no way they knew any Grangers, and she wasn't creative enough on the spot to come up with an alias, so she settled for her real name. "As for why I'm here…er…my parents were killed in 1964 in a subway accident—they were quite fascinated with the Muggle world, which ended up leading to their demise—and I was sent to live with my grandparents…I'd been homeschooled" she decided not to tell them she was Muggle-born at this particular time "up until now, but then Gran got sick and I was too much for Grandpa to take care of by himself. So they resolved to finally send me to Hogwarts, where they and my parents had both gone."

She had to admit, the falsehood was pretty good, given the short notice. James looked appropriately pitying, and she thought Lupin's hard stare had softened a bit. Maybe. "Why were you homeschooled if your grandparents obviously approved of Hogwarts in the first place?" he asked.

"To be honest, they were too shaken by my parents' deaths…they wanted to keep me close to them," Hermione said, nearly snorting in disbelief at her first three words. "But we all knew that Gran needed as much care as she could get, and I realized Grandpa would feel guilty about not being able to spend a lot of time with me, so I suggested Hogwarts. He knew it at once, of course, and in the end conceded that it was the right thing to do. I was a little leery of coming here, but from everything I'd read and from my grandparents' own accounts, Hogwarts is a good place for me to be. And here I am."

"I'm sorry to hear about your parents," Sirius said, seemingly genuine, "but they and you were right—Hogwarts is the best place to go. You'll be happy enough here."

"Did you clear your stay with Dumbledore?" Lupin questioned.

Hermione willed her face not to go blank of color. "Of course," she answered. That's going to be the first thing on my to-do list here, Hermione thought.

Lupin nodded slowly, then glanced at his watch. "Well, I'm sorry to cut this short, but it's time to go to class, mates," he said, referring to James, Sirius, and Peter. He turned to Hermione then. "I hope you can find your classes all right. We'd help you, but we'll be late."

Yeah, like James or Sirius really care, she mused sarcastically. But she said, "Yeah, I'll be fine. One of the prefects—I regretfully have forgotten his name—showed me earlier today. Thank you anyway, though."

James looked like he wanted to hear more about her, but Sirius dragged him up. They bid her a half-hearted goodbye and exited the room, with the claim that they were going to their Defense class. She wasn't sure if they really were, but she had enough things on her mind than to worry about that. Waiting until they were out of earshot, she started pacing, a habit she was trying to break but so far was unsuccessful.

"Okay, let's review my options," she mumbled to herself. "I could either go to Dumbledore or McGonagall and tell them what I did—all right, that's the first thing; now what of the second?. After that, I suppose I could stay with the transfer student idea and use that as my official cover-up, even with the Headmaster. Lastly, I could…well, that one I've no clue. I suppose I've only got one option then. Fantastic."

With that undesirable thought in her mind, she picked up her bag and set off into the hallway, swiftly making her way down six flights of stairs to where she knew Dumbledore's office was. She barely had time to take in the slight differences of this Hogwarts as opposed to the Hogwarts she knew; she was trying to navigate her way to the two gargoyles that guarded the Headmaster's stairs. Finally, after missing a turn or two, she caught site of the stone statues and walked purposefully up to them.

"I'd like to speak to Professor Dumbledore, please," she said hopefully.

The one on the right cackled, replying in a gravelly voice, "No can do, missy. You'll be needing the password."

"I was afraid of that," Hermione sighed. She cleared her throat, wracking her brain for all the candies she could think of. "Fizzing Whizbees? Lemon drops? Cockroach Clusters? Pumpkin Pasty? Ton-Tongue Toffee? Bl—"

"Congratulations on your guess," the other gargoyle interrupted. Hermione wasn't sure which candy was the password, but at the moment she didn't really care.

She muttered a thanks as the statues stepped aside, leaving her free to take the stairs two at a time. In a few seconds, she reached the door and knocked. Of its own accord, the door opened, revealing Professor Dumbledore sitting calmly at his desk, fingers pressed together as if he expected her. There was, however, a bit of curiosity reflected in his blue eyes.

"Sit down, my dear," he said placidly. Hermione felt a small rush of confidence at the fact that Dumbledore didn't seem cautious of her.

"Thank you," she said, taking a deep breath. "Okay, I'm going to be frank and quick about this, because I really am not sure how much time I'll have before someone talks to you first." Dumbledore waited for her to continue. "My name is Hermione Granger, and I am from near twenty years in the future. Long story short, I was meddling with a Defying Time potion in order to see both if it worked and if I could alter a certain event. If your intent is to lecture me, I ask that you skip it, because I already know the consequences of it. They were (perhaps naïvely, I suppose) taken into account when I made and executed the potion, so I know what I was doing. I only ask if I may reside here in your school while I undertake my endeavor. It's more than I deserve, I know, but if you're anything like your future self, you'll at least consider my question."

She winced in waiting for his reaction, but he surprised her with a quiet chuckle. "I admire your tenacity, Miss Granger," he said in a level voice. "And while I cannot commend what you have done by any means, it seems that nothing I say or do will stop you. Even more than that, if I were to stop you, it could alter the future worse than what you will do. You are welcome to stay here—I will have a bed made up for you, but I'm afraid it will be separate from the other Gryffindor girls' (I am assuming, by your robes, that you are Gryffindor). If you stand opposite the staircases and utter the words Revelio lectus, a third staircase will appear that leads solely to your room. Likewise, if you utter Evanesco lectus, it will vanish. I'd like to say you'd be welcome to join in classes, but I'm afraid I must decline. I only ask that you stay out of the way as much as possible. If indeed you are looking to change one sole event, it is imperative that you stay out of other matters."

"Thank you, Sir," Hermione said, hardly able to believe her luck. She wondered if Dumbledore had perhaps seen the future or something…either that or she was more persuasive than she'd thought.

"But Miss Granger," Dumbledore said then, his voice deep and warning. "Do know that what you are doing is highly dangerous and anything resulting from your actions could be a grave and serious problem which will be yours and yours alone to remedy. I must add that meddling with time and space is very frowned upon by the Ministry. If I hear you've been a disruption, I will be forced to report you."

"Yes, Sir," she said, her confidence diminishing. "I understand, Sir. Thank you."

"Goodbye," Dumbledore said calmly. "I hope you find what you are looking for."

"So do I," Hermione said dismally as she exited Dumbledore's office.

Once she turned her back, she thought she heard him give a quiet sigh, but when she peeked over her shoulder, he was studiously involved in some whirligig of sorts. Shaking her head at herself, Hermione walked slowly down the stairs and past the snickering gargoyles, who abruptly shut off the passage behind her.

Now sure of which hallway she was in, Hermione felt a sudden surge of confidence, despite how disappointed she still was over her situation. Realizing she had the go-ahead from Dumbledore which ensured her inability to be sent away, she smiled a little to herself and set off down the corridor, drinking everything in around her. It was an odd sort of feeling: everything was the same, and yet somehow different. She hadn't expected Hogwarts to change that much in two decades, but whether it was her imagination or not, Hermione thought the air felt somewhat altered.

The thing she immediately noticed was that the hall was virtually silent. Apart from the occasional teacher who gave her a nod in greeting (most didn't take a second glance at her; she figured it was because they thought she was legitimately a 1970s Hogwarts student), a student skipping and expertly making their way around authority figures, or a ghost flitting in and out of walls. It wasn't altogether that much different from the Hogwarts Hermione knew.

Coming around a bend, she recognized her Transfiguration classroom, and felt the urge to slip into the class and simply observe the class, to see how it differed from how McGonagall taught it in Hermione's year. She refrained, however, when she remembered that no one knew her here and she would be in quite a sticky situation if she simply barged in and interrupted. Her mood slightly lower, she peered into other classrooms inconspicuously.

They were fairly unexciting, for the most part: Professor Binns was teaching a group of Hufflepuffs, ninety percent of which were asleep; a thirty-something, nice-looking man was instructing what looked like a Potions class; a creature she recognized instantly as a grindylow swam around in its cage in the next room, and Hermione chuckled to herself when thinking of Lupin teaching it…then she'd remembered he was probably in the class.

She was about to try and point him out when a very familiar, very undesired voice nearly scared her out of her wits. She turned abruptly around, and sneered at the poltergeist, who she was now determined not to let get the best of her. Oddly enough, though, the look he gave her was not only of mischief…it looked like he actually knew her.

Her heart rate quickened in betrayal. But that's not possible, Hermione coached herself. No one apart from Dumbledore could possibly know who I am! Right?

1996

After about twenty minutes of trying to guess the password to Dumbledore's office, Ron desperately shouted out "Ton-Tongue Toffees," and, to both his and Harry's surprise, the gargoyles sprang aside to let them through. Harry and Ron exchanged a glance of relative mirth (Harry recollected fondly upon the time when Dudley had been on the receiving end of a few of the candies) before jogging up the stairs. To their misfortune, Professor McGonagall noticed them and was only seconds behind, wondering just what they were up to this time.

The two sixth years knocked frantically on the office door, and Dumbledore calmly replied with his customary "Enter," the door opening of its own accord.

They walked in briskly, Professor McGonagall swift on their heels. Only slightly out of breath, she shut the door firmly behind herself and examined the two now surprised (in their hurry, they hadn't heard her) boys through her glasses, her mouth thin and white.

"Albus," she nodded in Dumbledore's general direction before looking again at Harry and Ron. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, I trust you have a very good reason for coming up here without permission?"

The supposition that they did not, in fact, have a reason was all-too-evident in Professor McGonagall's tone. Harry and Ron almost expected Dumbledore to tell the Professor to calm down, but he did not. Instead, he looked at them just as curiously, expectant for an answer. Ron and Harry didn't have much time to dwell on the oddity; they had no idea how much time Hermione had, and, at least in their opinion, time was of the essence.

"Professors, Hermione's missing!" Ron blurted out.

Harry elbowed him in the stomach for sounding so horrified. "She's not really missing, so much as she's…gone," Harry elaborated, his voice much calmer than Ron's had been.

Immediately, Professor McGonagall's expression softened to that of worry, and she looked anxiously to Dumbledore. "What does this mean?" she asked. "Do you know anything about this, Albus?"

Dumbledore stayed silent, his gaze faraway though he was staring vaguely between Professor McGonagall and Ron. "Pro-Professor Dumbledore?" Ron breathed, terrified.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore finally said, his voice tired.

"What do you mean, 'yes, Mr. Weasley'?" Ron demanded, his ears red with fury.

Harry, fearing both Ron's and Dumbledore's safety, pushed his friend back gently. "Ron, getting angry isn't going to help," he placated, despite the rise of his own frustration. He turned to Dumbledore, beseeching. "Sir, she took something what she called a Defying Time potion, if that helps at all. It was bluish, I think, and emitted smoke when she disappeared, but we couldn't find anything else about it. She did say that she wanted to go nineteen years in the past, but we don't know why."

It did not help Ron's mood when Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall exchanged a very loaded look. After many tense moments and with Ron getting closer and closer to being inconsolable, Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles and looked at the boys with regret in his eyes. Professor McGonagall placed a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder.

"I'm afraid the question is not what happened to her," Dumbledore said. "The question now is why Miss Granger went where she did. Are you certain you have no clues as to her reasons for departing?"

"No, Sir," Harry said, wishing very much that he could answer better. "I mean, nothing of consequence was really going on then, was it? Apart from my mother and father and everyone being there—" Harry stopped midsentence, looking wide-eyed at Ron, who mirrored his expression. Cautiously, he met Dumbledore's eyes again. "Wait…why would she want to go back to their time?"

Dumbledore heaved a sigh, and Professor McGonagall looked utterly perplexed and furiously thoughtful. "Why indeed…" Dumbledore said, fixing Ron and Harry with as much a commiserating expression as he could.

Unfortunately for them, Dumbledore wasn't sure how much help he could be on the matter. Even he could only do so much, particularly when it came to matters of manipulating time. Though he did not say it, he knew much of the solution would be up to Hermione to figure out.