Early on into the summer of 2000, as Hogwarts was approaching its reopening date, Hermione Granger, amongst other students, began preparing to head back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Following the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione had been the only one amongst her closest friends that had chosen to go back to Hogwarts to complete their education and take their NEWTs. To tell the truth, as soon as the offer to skip their seventh year was given to them, Hermione immediately knew the two boys would opt to start working on their careers immediately.
Not that they were wildly motivated career men, they were just wildly lazy men.
Hence with such woe's in her heart, Hermione stepped foot into diagon alley for the first time since her bank heist with the boys (a horrible experience, 2/10 and definately not something she would be recommending to anyone).
She had merely stepped foot onto the grounds before the loud chattering faded into hushed whispers. It had been going on for so long now that Hermione was actually becoming somewhat accustomed to it, but it was still exasperating. It made her anxious; that something may be wrong with her appearance, like when toilet paper sticks to your pants whilst you're in public.
It made her feel jittery.
Sighing, Hermione looked up to catch sight of platinum blond hair, instantly feeling better at the sight of someone she was familiar with.
She ran up to said blond, "Draco!" She called out, smiling.
A few steps ahead of her, Draco Malfoy stopped in his tracks and turned around with a tight lipped smile. Hermione frowned, before coming to a stop before him, "is everything alright?" She questioned.
Draco just smiled amicably, though his eyes remained dull. "You know what it's like. I can't even come out to shop without getting skewered." He scowled, creases forming on his handsome face.
And Hermione really did know what it was like. Despite what she had achieved for the Wizarding World and the current peaceful state she had helped bring it to, a lot of opinionated people still liked to really rub in their superiority complex to her face.
Not only did some people outright wish Voldemort had won, but some even blamed The Golden Trio for ruining their chances at living a free life.
Hermione smiled at Draco, though. He had been through much, the hideous skull on his arm proving his battles. She placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, "if it makes you feel better, Malfoy, at least you can buy out the entirety of Diagon Alley if need be." Hermione jested.
Draco smirked, "of course I can." He was ridiculously full of himself, even now. "I better get going though, Granger. See you soon at the Grimmauld Place?" He said as he started walking off. Hermione yelled a quick 'ofcourse!' behind her friend, before scurrying off into the direction of Hermione's favourite store at Diagon Alley- Flourish and Blotts. She hoped sincerely to be able to complete her work done briskly.
Unbeknownst to the witch who had been so caught up trying to make it past the loud crowd, a hooded figure followed closely behind her.
Despite her constant vigilance, and honestly the inability to cease vigilance given how she had spent the past year.
As Hermione browsed through the books, the short statured hooded figure tried blending into the crowd, which was quite an easy task, given the latest fashion trends of wearing oversized robes.
Hermione decided to retrieved all the books she needed by hand, rather than ask for assistance or simply summon them, purposely taking time in her search. She was in a hurry (not that she had anything to do), but given how long it had been since she last visited, the brunette witch could hardly help herself. The familiar feeling of being surrounded by books, including the dustiest tomes in the old store, truly provided Hermione was indescribable.
As Hermione skimmed through the titles, allowing her finger to pick up the dust collected on the side of an old book, she made to pull one particularly interesting sounding one, Applications of Runes in the Ancient World, just as the hooded figure jumped out. Hermione immediately dropped the book, startled, as she felt blood rushing into her ears.
The person yelled, "YOU MUDBLOOD!" with a shrill feminine voice. Hermione immediately recoiled, moving her wrist to draw her wand from the holster underneath her sleeve.
Without delay, a badly aimed non-verbal spell with red sparks came flying at her hand. It didn't do much damage, only leaving Hermione's arm a bit scratchy, she assumed some weak anti-hero had jumped her.
"HOW DARE YOU?" The figure yelled, breaking into sobs.
The crowd within the bookstore slowed down, now gathering closer to watch the commotion.
Hermione gave them a quizzical look, pulling her wand out swiftly. The person ripped back their hood. Hermione felt uncertainty bubble within her, faltering in her stance.
Infront of her stood Parvati Patil. A fellow Gryffindor, from the same year as Hermione too.
Hermione inched closer, swallowing thickly, "Parvati? I don't understand..." she trailed off.
Parvati scoffed, "You know what you did, Hermione Granger you scum." The girl spat.
Hermione raised her hands, approaching Parvati gently as she kept rambling, assuming the girl had a mental breakdown.
Whatever else the reason was, there had to be one. Hermione believed Parvati would not have attacked her on some baseless instinct.
Although Hermione had certainly had her fair share of wild attacks recently, encountering multitudes of young witches and wizards who had been so traumatised by the past events they felt the need to personally blame Harry, Ron and Hermione as if the three of them had resurrected Voldemort themselves.
But whilst the three friends were targetted for different reasons, Harry had faced the brunt of it. Hermione was basking in its watered down blood supremacist version and Ron for having been too 'cowardly'.
Which only naturally meant that those who supported the Golden Trio doubled on the hate and had actually made life quite hard for ex-Death Eaters. This included one of Hermione's currently close friends, Draco Malfoy.
When Hermione was close enough, she noted the glassy look in Parvati's eyes. She looked as if she were asleep. Almost as if... "the imperius-" Hermione gasped, realisation dawning on her.
Parvati raised her hand, not giving Hermione enough time to jump back and protect herself, a flash of green light now rushing towards Hermione. With the best of her abilities in that situation, Hermione cast a shield.
Hermione watched the green sparks with widened eyes, shattering her shield.
Amidst the fear Hermione felt at that moment, she finally registered the incantation Parvati had yelled, "avada kedavra."
•••
When Hermione regained consciousness, she was met with a crowd of unfamiliar faces staring down at her, whispering shamelessly rather than helping her off what felt like the pavement.
Perhaps Parvati's curse had never hit, perhaps someone had managed to move her out of the way, but something felt incredibly out of place.
From the way the people near her were dressed, to the current issue that it was snowing and it does not snow in July. Hermione instantly pulled herself off the ground, she swiped her hands over the ground as her eyes blurred with tears, desperately searching for her wand.
When she did not find it near where she had been laying unconscious she patted her pockets furiously, but much to her dismay she only found her red beaded bag. The crowd had begun to disperse now that Hermione had woken up, though no one bothered to help. Sobbing, she looked to the side and she finally saw it, laying on the ground just about 15 meters away from her.
Hermione scurried up to retrieve it.
"Are you alright, dear?" The voice of an old lady cut in. Hermione caught her breath, disoriented. But Hermione nodded weakly to the woman, who took her answer and continued her leisurely stroll around the marketplace. Even if it had been a different spell than what Hermione thought, it made no sense that they would leave Hermione laying on the streets of Diagon Alley for months.
Something about the series of events that occured did not make sense to her.
The cold weather caught up to Hermione almost as soon as she got back on her feet. To be fair though, she had been dressed in only a tanktop and jeans underneath her light robes.
Hermione quickly cast a warming charm over herself, before hastily running over to the Leaky Cauldron. She seriously needed to gather her bearings.
As Hermione strode inside, immediately noting the lack of hushed whispering. She scowled, for it was a sure welcome change but an awfully dull and senseless thing to consider notable.
Amidst the jolly loud crowd, Hermione called out for Tom the barkeep and insantly drew back, gobsmacked at the man that turned to look at her. Instead of the white bearded, wrinkly old man she was used to seeing, she was faced with a young lad perhaps a couple of years older than Hermione.
"Are you new here?" Hermione smiled warmly. She felt like shit but nothing would ever be a good enough excuse to treat a server badly.
The man smiled, clearly amused. "I'm afraid I've been working here for about five years now," he tipped his imaginary hat in mock introduction.
Hermione laughed a little, face heating up.
"What may I offer you?" He smiled at her quite charmingly.
Hermione staggered back a little bit. She must've hit her head somewhere during her fall.
"I-I'd like a room please," she mumbled, ears still hot. Perhaps she was looking too far into it and Tom the barkeep she was used to just hired a new barkeep named Tom. Totally reasonable.
"Just a second," the barkeep requested before heading to the back to retrieve a key.
"How long will you be staying for?" He inquired as he slid the keys towards Hermione. "Just the night." Hermione informed promptly.
"That will be 2 galleons and 5 sickles." He requested. Crazy how inflation works, must've been a result of the war, Hermione shrugged, handing him the correct amount before grabbing the keys off the counter and heading for the stairway.
As Hermione turned the keys over in her palm, she noticed the engraving on the keys- 394.
Hermione, restless as is, found and settled into her room quite easily. The Leaky Cauldron seemed to have gone through a major renovation, with new furniture and painted walls. It was a welcome change.
The room was as bare necessities based as ever though. Hermione sat on the large four poster bed in the middle of the room, legs tucked under her as she studied the interior.
From where Hermione was seated, directly to her left was a large window to her right of which were two doorways, one leading to the bathroom and the other leading to the corridor. On either sides of her bed were small tables, but it would be more accurate to call them stools perhaps.
Infront of her she stood a dresser, the large mirror which reflected her stare. Added too was a dresser, situated beside the closet. The room was a bit shabby, but it did the job.
Inhaling deeply, Hermione decided to open the windows and got off her bed.
She was met with a peculiar sight, finally being able to take in the current state of Diagon Alley.
Hermione watched the men that adorned top-hats and women that adorned sun hats. Hermione felt like she had time travelled into the muggle hippie era. She brushed the thought off, pushing open her windows to breathe in the crisp cold air.
Not a lot was making sense. Her move from Flourish and Blotts to the street bothered her. Had they managed to apprehend Parvati for lashing out at Hermione? Had they figured out that she was under the Imperius curse?
And where in the name of Merlin's left asscheek was Harry and Ron? She would damn well chew their ears off the next time she saw those two.
Huffing, Hermione walked back towards her bed, wanting to change out if her dust caked robes.
She changed swiftly, before stuffing her beaded bag inside a hidden compartment stitched into her current robes before heading out.
Hermione rushed down the stairs, intending to take a quick walk around Diagon Alley, get a copy of The Daily Prophet and preferably go back to grumbling to herself in her room at the Leaky Cauldron.
As she had intended, Hermione walked up to a newspaper stand and asked the witch tending to it for the morning edition. The witch handed it over in exchange for 3 knuts.
Having obtained the newspaper, Hermione Granger ran back into her room, paper clutched in her hand, making herself comfortable in bed.
Tucked in bed and not planning on leaving the room unless a natural disaster took place, Hermione diverted her attention on to the paper in hand.
"Alright, let's see," Hermione chirped as she unfolded the paper. She immediately darted her eyes to see the date first, "alright... 11 November, 1944."
Hermione's left eye twitched, smiling, "what the fuck." She swallowed, the paper beginning to char under her fingers as she grinded her teeth with the most unnerving smile set on her face.
Okay Granger, think. What happened in 1944? Currently, there is a war going on in both wizarding and muggle world. The World War II will end on the first of September 1st of 1945. That's when Dumbledore fights Grindelwald, too.
Voldemort is a school boy, and I am screwed.Hermione shot up out of bed, glaring at her reflection in the mirror, somehow getting further pissed off as the reflection glared back. "I could kill Voldemort. End of story," she mumbled, an angry glint in her eyes. Then shook her head, "ack too many ethical codes and moral boundaries. Time travel rules too." She pulled at her hair.
"How did I even-" Hermione stopped abruply, dropping her hair and making a run towards the dresser, nearly falling face first to the ground. She removed the invisibility charm she had placed over her time-turned and gulped.
The gold case had completely melted. It was now disfigured, with the tiny hourglass in between missing. It looked like a flat-ironed pancake. "Son of a bitch!" Hermione yelled.