Perceptual Distortions

A/N: You guys have all been very supportive and very good at inspiring lazy good-for-nothings, like myself, to write a little bit more. Thanks to everyone for their reviews! I really appreciate any help anyone can give me as I'm just starting out and feeling my way around to see what works. Thank you all so much.

"Oh, are you ok?"

Hermione was curled in the foetal position with her knees tightly pulled to her stomach. Her bushy hair cushioned her head and she was still clutching the locket tightly. She had not fainted but preferred to keep her eyes closed in the unlikely event this was, in fact, a very horrible nightmare. It seemed safer, her mind soothed, to not see anything. She knew she had been lying there for a good fifteen minutes before anyone had stumbled onto her.

"Hello? Can you hear me? Do you need medical help?"

Hermione's eyes shot open and she sat up quickly, her hand slipping into her pocket and quickly whipping out her wand, she shot off blue sparks in the direction of the disturbance. Her eyes widened with fear as the source of the concerned, questioning voice walked over to her.

"Hey, you got me pretty good there."

A boy of around fifteen was peering down at her curiously, his hand covering his forehead. His hair was a sandy blonde, neatly styled and slightly smoking at the front where Hermione's quick sparks had caught it. Black-rimmed glasses framed his simple, blue eyes. He was wearing neat, black robes and peering down at her with a slightly quizzical expression, preparing to roll out of the way in the likely event she shot off more sparks at him.

Hermione blinked at him in confusion. He returned her look, still half-expecting her to jump at him.

"Oh, I'm... I'm sorry." Hermione stuttered after a moment. He relaxed immediately and smiled at her. She was rambling, in a daze. Her words were very slurred. "I was shocked. I didn't really know what I was doing."

"It's fine, really." He smiled warmly and offered her his hand. There was no trace of malice in his eyes, nor did his smile reveal anything less than sincerity. Hermione peered up at his bespeckled face and accepted his hand dazedly. He gave her a gentle tug to her feet.

"Now, we need to find someone to help you. I don't know if you are injured or anything but do you think you could walk with me to Professor Flitwick's office? It is literally just down the corridor. You can lean on me if you want... well, I'm not sure you'd particularly want to lean on me but you can if you need to. If you feel you can't walk any further, I can run to get someone. I'm pretty quick and I'd be back in a jiffy." Her companion gave a nervous laugh, watching Hermione anxiously as her eyes focused in on her surroundings. She was still dazed and clutching onto his arm tightly.

Professor Flitwick?

"Where am I?" Hermione barked, putting her hands on her head and falling to the floor. The boy was pulled down with her as she refused to let go of his arm when she crashed. "Where am I? Where am I? WHERE AM I?"

The urgency and hysteria in her voice grew. Her eyes grew wild as she pulled him closer. His smile vanished instantly.

"You are at Hogwarts." He stuttered, looking around him for help. Any ghost passing would do, a teacher would be better. A student, even, could help.

"Hogwarts? HOGWARTS?" Her voice rose in pitch, her eyes were wide and filled with frenzied tears. "HOW DID I GET HERE? WAS IT YOU? DID YOU DO THIS TO ME!"

Hermione broke down, sobbing and weakly punching the boy on the chest. Blaming him for everything made sense, somehow. She couldn't help but cry. "I don't want to be here... I didn't do anything wrong."

Her cries were loud and almost inhuman. He hoped against hope someone would come and rescue her. Rescue him.

Nervously, he glanced around for the hide or hair of another human being. Anyone would do really. His mouth twitched nervously as he placed his arms around the panic-stricken girl in a semblance to a comforting hug. He remembered his mother doing something similar for him whenever he got upset and he hoped against hope that this would be enough to stop her from hurting herself. He held her close and moved his arm up and down her back in a soothing gesture. He could feel her relax against his chest, her frantic cries becoming less intense.

"I'm Barty" He murmured. Hermione stopped crying, stopped breathing. Mistranslating her silence, Barty continued in the same quiet tone. "I don't think I introduced myself and, well, it felt wrong to be hugging you whilst you didn't know my name. Felt indecent or something. I just wanted to tell you that... I'm Barty. I already mentioned that but, you know, you were crying a lot and you may not have heard me properly. Barty. Me. Hello."

"Oh. Dear. God."

'This isn't happening' Hermione screwed up her eyes once more to embark on a policy of full-blown denial. She didn't travel back in time. She didn't arrive at Hogwarts during who knows when. And she definitely didn't speak to the younger version of Barty Crouch Junior. Definitely didn't get hugged by that monster.

The man, she knew, in four years time would be sent to prison for the torture of the parents of one of her closest friends. The man who, in five years time, will escape from Azkaban and be put under the Imperious curse by his crackpot father. The man who, in sixteen years time, will come to Hogwarts, disguised as Mad-Eye Moody, kill his father, be directly responsible for the death of Cedric Diggory, the near-death of her best friend, Harry, and be, of course, responsible for the return of Lord Voldemort and the deaths of ever subsequent person killed in the name of ethnic cleansing. The man who fooled Dumbledore, who fooled the world, into believing he was a good man. The man who will receive the Kiss for his crimes and his loyalty to the darkest of Lords.

The man who, as a fifteen year old boy, threw his arms around a complete stranger and held her until she stopped crying.

"Are you awake?"

Tentatively, frightful of what she might see, Hermione opened her eyes slowly. A pair of electric blue eyes, framed by half-moon spectacles, peered curiously down at her. A face, the face she had been longing to see for the past two months, was staring at her with undisguised confusion. That long, crooked nose, that greying beard and hair. The unmistakable air of magic. Albus Dumbledore, dead in her time but living, breathing and frowning before her now.

"Professor!"

Hermione launched herself from her bed in the hospital wing and threw her arms tightly around the man she would regard as the greatest human being to ever live. He flinched slightly with the unexpected contact but Hermione didn't care. She had wanted to see Dumbledore again from the moment he had died.

"I've missed you, Professor Dumbledore, we all have. We can't go on without you. We don't know what to do to fight him"

"Have we met before, Miss?" Dumbledore was hesitant, unwilling to have much more physical contact with the girl who had just been carried up to the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore could see the tiredness, the hysteria, etched clearly into her dark brown eyes. She had travelled a while, it seemed.

"What year is it, Professor?" Hermione asked, finally releasing Dumbledore from the slightly-bone crushing hug. Dumbledore watched as the girl composed herself, ran a hand through her bushy brown hair and bit her bottom lip in anxiety.

"The year? It's 1977" Dumbledore watched as a numbness settled in around Hermione's face. The girl slid back onto the bed and stared into the air in front of her with disbelief written all over her face. "I assume from your reaction, Miss, that was not the news you were hoping for."

"It was 1996 when I left." Hermione whispered softly, tears welling up in her eyes. "I was at my grandmother's funeral, Professor. It was 1996 and I was at home."

"You are a long way from home, Miss."

"Hermione." She said without feeling, so numb she felt she had been hit by a freezing charm. It didn't make sense. "My name is Hermione Granger, born on September 19th, 1979. In two years, Professor Dumbledore, I will be born. How could she do this to me?"

"Whom, may I inquire?" Dumbledore took a seat on the bed beside her.

"My grandmother. She left me a locket and a note with a charm on it. I activated the charm by reading the note and I woke up here." Hermione stared at Dumbledore, dumfounded and seeking answers. The wizened wizard closed his eyes slightly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Miss Granger" Dumbledore hesitated as Hermione drew closer, staring at him as though his next words could reveal the solution to all of her problems. "Miss Granger, I do not claim to be an authority on time travel, nor to I claim to fully understand the problems from within your family. However, Miss Granger, I will help you as best as I can. You may stay at Hogwarts until we can discover a way of sending you back to your time. How old are you, Miss Granger?"

"I am seventeen, eighteen in a month." Hermione started but a look at Dumbledore's face silenced her. Fearfully, Hermione lifted a mirror from the beside table and dropped it in shock.

Hermione had gone to the hairdressers in frustration after her hair had caused her one too many problems and had the woman cut it and style it to a reasonable length and volume.

Her shorter hairstyle was gone and had been replaced by locks of bushy, brown hair.

Hermione gaped at the very surreal image of her fourteen year old self.