Author's Note: I would like to thank all of you who are faithful readers and/or reviewers. It truly means more to me than you'll ever know. You guys are the greatest!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the characters, locations, or cleverness. It all belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Studios.
Hermione stood quietly, facing the mirror. The only sound that reverberated through the small bathroom was the sounds of dripping water from the leaky faucet. Her hands were tightly gripping the edge of the sink's bowl—shaking.
The light gray irises of the eyes in the mirror before her stared back cold and desolate; unlike her dark eyes that had once been filled with wonderment, warmth, and understanding, they now looked back at her like an endless sky of rolling rain clouds.
Hermione's thoughts immediately drifted to the prophecy. Is this the first sign? She was completely at a loss; she hadn't even had the mere chance to speak with Dumbledore—let alone put his theories to the test. How planned to test them, she did not know, but she knew that Dumbledore would've left no stone unturned that he had an answer to.
Her mind quickly drifted to Harry and Ron. Had they came and visited? Did they even know what was going on? She knew how to get her answers efficiently. Releasing her shaken grip from the sink and averting her eyes from the mirror, she rushed out of the bathroom and to the trunk at the foot of her hospital bed. She sprinted to the bathroom, removed her clothes, and changed in record time.
With her right shoe half on, and her stockings bunching at her ankle, she half walk, half hopped to Madam Pomfrey's office door.
"Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione knocked quietly on the door that had been left slightly ajar. The small amount of force powering her knocks caused the door to open. Hermione stuck her head into the witch's sanctum and called out more loudly, "Madam Pomfrey?"
Upon being greeted with silence once more, Hermione pushed open the door further, revealing a cozy room with countless bookshelves, a bed and closet, beakers and vials lining the opposite wall, and a desk strewn with papers, open books, and writing materials. She approached the medic witch's desk. A small note card rested beside the numerous open books on the table. Hermione lifted the minute piece of parchment.
Fever, nauseated, freezing hands and feet, fainting, comatose-like state, shallow heart beats and breaths, indistinct whispering. Hermione read the note card once more. She recognized the first few word sets as her own symptoms from the previous days. Her eyes drifted to the books resting on the desk. Hermione saw a few diseases—both muggle and magical—circled inside. But upon reading a few of the symptoms listed beside them, she now understood Madam Pomfrey's dilemma: none of the illnesses seemed to match up—even after the choices appeared to have been narrowed down.
Hermione's attention immediately snapped back to reality. She searched over the desk quickly until her eyes found a spare piece of parchment. Dipping the quill once more, Hermione scribbled down a quick note: Feeling fine. Went to see Professor Dumbledore. –Hermione Granger. She sat the paper back on the table in plain sight and left the room—grabbing her wand and bag beside her bed before bolting out of the infirmary doors.
Hermione rounded the corner to Dumbledore's office—arriving in only mere minutes. Thankfully classes had been in session, therefore no students crowded the corridors and no teachers were wandering about to catch her running through the halls.
She stepped inside the awaiting wings of the stone creature guarding Dumbledore's office. The head prefects and ground prefects thankfully knew the password, thus Hermione spoke the word, "Butterscotch," and allowed the stairs to ascend her to his office door.
Hermione's heart thudded as she readied her fist near the door to knock, but before her hand could make contact with the wood, the door flew open on its own accord, revealing an exasperated Madam Pomfrey and a Dumbledore who inclined his head to her with a smile.
Madam Pomfrey's mouth closed as her eyes flitted to the guest entering the room. She was surprised as none other than Hermione Granger standing in the arch of the doorway. The medic witch bustled toward the stubborn Gryffindor. "Miss Granger, dear, you needn't be out of bed! You need your rest and fluids," Madam Pomfrey chastised as she rested her hand on the girl's forehead.
Hermione smiled sheepishly as she moved the witch's hand away as politely as possible. "Thank you for your concern, Madam Pomfrey, but I feel much better," Hermione spoke in an understanding tone as to not offend the medic. Madam Pomfrey's brows knitted together, but she removed her hand and took a step back nonetheless. Turning her body slightly towards the wizard before her, she spoke in a confident tone. "I was hoping that I may be able to speak with Headmaster Dumbledore."
"It's quite alright, Poppy. After Miss Granger and I speak, I will be sure to send her down to the infirmary for a once over before sending her on her way," Dumbledore said with a warm smile, helping to calm down the worried witch. Madam Pomfrey's worry slightly eased away from her face before nodding and exiting Dumbledore's office, shutting the door, and descending the stairs.
Hermione turned back to the wizard who now stood behind his desk; the smile all but vanished from his face and replaced with a look of deep contemplation. He then motioned with an outstretched arm for her to take a seat opposite him.
Hermione took her seat, her gaze fixated on the floor. She knew Dumbledore had already heard all there is to know from a shocked—if not frightened—Madam Pomfrey, but she was now beginning to find it difficult to look him in the eye. She was the same Hermione in mind and spirit, yes, but she knew deep down that something wasn't right. She could feel it in her very being.
"Miss Granger," the Headmaster spoke, addressing her. Hermione's head quickly snapped up to the Professor. "Would you like a lemon drop?" In his hand he extended a candy dish of sweets out to her with a comforting smile. Her tension eased as she took a deep breath.
"No thank you, sir," Hermione spoke strongly, feeling slightly better about the situation—if only for a moment. Dumbledore nodded, then rose from his seat and began pacing about the room.
"Miss Granger, if I may ask, can you recall what happened before you lost consciousness in Professor Binns' classroom?" Dumbledore questioned as he studied the numerous magical trinkets that rested on a table beside the window of his office.
Hermione furrowed her brow, trying to relive the moment in her mind. She could not recall the faces, the voices, or the placement. All that was left with her were the feelings. "I don't remember much… but, I recall feeling queasy and suddenly very ill…" her brows furrowed even further as she continued. "I remember the feeling of a burning sensation… almost as though an unimaginable coldness struck within my body… I felt like I was being burned alive…
"My head begun to ache and my vision blurred, then… I'm sorry sir, that's all I remember about what happened in the classroom," Hermione turned her head down apologetically for not being about to recall the situation as clearly as what she thought she would have been able to.
"It's alright, Miss Granger. Every bit of information—especially from firsthand accounts—helps," He said warmly. "Now, concerning the physical change you have experienced recently… When you awoke, did you feel any different? Did your visionary aspects change?"
"When I woke up, I felt slightly groggy and achy, but no different than I would've if I had had the muggle common cold. But, other than that, I felt no different whatsoever…"
Dumbledore moved away from the trinkets and crossed his office to the opposite side of the room that held numerous tomes on dark bookshelves. He studied them, though Hermione doubted he was looking for anything in particular. For a few moments the wizard seemed to be lost in thought, but then he spoke once more.
"Did you dream anything while you were unconscious, Miss Granger?"
Unlike the events that occurred leading up to her comatose state, Hermione remembered the occurrences in the tower almost as though they were actual memories and experiences rather than fleeting moments in the dream realm. She remembered standing before the grand, marble statues in the tower. She remembered the creatures that were with them on their pedestals: their familiars, as it were. Hermione closed her eyes, searching the recesses of her mind even further—delving deeper into the almost too-real scenario.
The scenes flashed before Hermione's eyes in a flurry of blurred emotion. She saw an eagle flying throughout the tower, she heard the lion roaring in all its glory, she saw the badger standing its ground to help his friends, but then all those images quickly faded as her mind was shrouded in darkness and a serpent lunged out from the shadow ready to strike.
Hermione's eyes shot open quickly and she jumped, shaken by the lifelike recollection she had of her dream.
"Miss Granger, are you alright?" Dumbledore questioned from his seat across from her at his desk. When did he get there?
"Yes, just thinking, sir, that's all," Hermione dismissed his question lamely. She could tell Dumbledore did not believe it for a moment, but he did not press the issue further. Hermione then took this as her cue to continue.
"I remember being in a tower. The only light came from the opening in the very top. There were four statues in the room… I think they were of the founders of Hogwarts. Hufflepuff held her cup, Gryffindor his sword, Ravenclaw her diadem, and Slytherin his locket. On their pedestals, were their animal counterparts… Gryffindor's statue was illuminated by the light, while Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were in the half light… Slytherin was in the darkest corner of the tower..." Hermione paused momentarily recalling the situation thoroughly.
"Then what happened, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked, his hands clasped together and his eyes intently resting on her.
Hermione remembered exactly what happened. The snake coiled in Slytherin's hands came to life with every intention of striking her, but then the other marbled creatures came to her aid. In the end, the snake's cunning and deceiving nature grasped the upper hand of the situation, spitting its venom in her eyes and leaving her to suffer on the floor of the tower. Although she recalled the circumstances down to the very emotion, something in her kept her quiet—told her to keep mum and not speak of what had occurred.
"I... That's all I can recall. The next thing I remember is waking up in the infirmary this morning to Madam Pomfrey." Hermione felt awful for not telling the wizened elder the whole story, but for whatever reason, she knew that it was something that she must keep to herself.
Dumbledore nodded in understanding—whether he truly did or not, she couldn't tell. "Miss Granger, how familiar are you with the methods of time travel?" Dumbledore rose, stroking his beard and pacing his study once more.
"I have read numerous books about the art itself, the many methods, and circumstantial procedures… then I had experience my third year using the time turner for class and to help Sirius Black. Why do you ask, Professor?" Hermione's brows knitted together. Why would he be asking about time travel—especially at this moment?
"I have deeply thought about the current situation—as well as discussed it with a few of my colleagues. The prophecy in itself is vague and remains to be completely unveiled, but after recent events, we have strong belief that it is in fact you who it refers to, Miss Granger.
"Because of this, we have concluded that Voldemort must know as well. His resources and followers are just as great and strategic as our very own in the Order—if not, then more so, perhaps. Voldemort will not simply sit by and allow these events to pass without taking action. Miss Granger, it has come to our attention that you have one week at most before he begins searching for you. Whether it be to seek your assistance or your power remains to be seen, but nonetheless, the estimated time we have is very little and requires immediate action."
Hermione tried to absorb everything he had just said. Voldemort… is going to come for me? She was shaken to her core by the very thought of being the immediate target of the Dark Lord. She began to empathize with Harry. The feeling of being an alienated target, fearing for your life and the lives of those around you, having nowhere to hide—it was all too real. How had Harry ever find the time to enjoy life and its simple pleasures knowing he was always going to be the prey of the most dangerous predator to have ever lived? Hermione couldn't fathom it.
"But Professor Dumbledore, what about Hogwarts? Isn't its stronghold and magical wards enough to protect us from the outlying dark forces?" Hermione asked, exasperated at the thought of Hogwarts falling on bended knee beneath the Dark Lord's whim.
"Hogwarts' magical wards are very strong and have withheld many attempts at outsiders breeching its barriers, but with the power the Voldemort and his Death Eaters have obtained, we truly cannot be certain that they will last against a mass assault. This brings me back to Time Travel.
"You know as well as anyone the difference time traveling can make—especially when saving the life of the innocent. Although it can be a tricky business, when one approaches with good reason and cautious action the results can prove most beneficial."
Dumbledore crossed his room to a wooden armoire with many drawers below the two, large doors. Bending slightly, he opened the first drawer to the right and removed a small object and placed it in the pocket of his robes. He began to make his way back to his seat at large wooden desk.
"Although underage time travel is forbidden by law of the Ministry of Magic, times are dire and we haven't much choice left," Dumbledore sighed as he sat down and pulled the object out of his robes, setting it on the desk. "Do you know what this is, Miss Granger?"
Hermione closely studied the medallion-like object connected to a chain resting on the Headmaster's desk. The main part of the necklace appeared to be a time turner. Hermione cautiously lifted it up to her eye level, rotating the item to study it more closely. It very much resembled the time turner she used her third year, but instead of golden sand on the inside of the hourglass, the sand was silver.
"It looks very similar to the time turning I used my third year, but the sand is different… I have never read about this type of turner before." Hermione placed the necklace back on the desk.
"I would wager you haven't," Dumbledore said a matter-of-factly, "few of these exist. They were originally constructed by the Ministry in its early years. Memory erasing charms were still in the process of being perfected and voted in, thus, when muggles would experience magical encounters, instead of erasing the mind, the Ministry workers would use these to travel and prevent the incident from occurring."
"But couldn't regular time turners be used for events such as those? Why need particularly different ones?"
"Unlike the normal time turners, this particular type does not leave behind your duplicate while you travel. When you travel to a certain point in time, your living memory does not diminish, but instead travels along with you. This helped to prevent the fear of lost sanity if you accidentally run into your counterpart. Alongside that, these time turners prove to be more potent in the length of time that can be traveled—travel of up to a century has even been recorded."
"If these types of turners are so efficient, then why did the Ministry put them out of use?"
"Although time traveling with these specific turners can stretch over many years, it is not recommended. If one stays far enough in time for too long, the living memory that traveled with you begins to diminish and ultimately fade away. When you return to the time you were once accustomed to, the memories others held of you will have ceased. Even though you are once more in you proper time, it would be as though you never existed."
Hermione's eyes widened slightly at the thought of returning to those she held most dear to her only to have been forgotten. "Professor… why are you telling me all of this?" Hermione questioned uneasily.
"After discussing recent events and possible actions that could be taken with the Order of the Phoenix members, we have concluded that this decision is best… We would like for you to travel back to Tom Riddle's era and prevent him from creating the horcruxes."
Hermione's eyes grew wide at what he had just requested of her. "Professor, why me? How will I accomplish that? What if I can't?" Hermione began questioning in a flurry of panic. Dumbledore looked at her through weary eyes filled with pain. He did not wish this upon her—or anyone else—but he had little choice.
"Miss Granger, I know this is quite sudden to ask of you and it is very difficult to comprehend, but I have complete faith in you. Your magical ability and widened knowledge of both of the wizarding and muggle worlds even exceed that of many of your superiors. Your compassion knows no bounds; you are strong in spirit and steady in mind. Your wit can easily get you out of dangerous situations and your will to learn makes your understanding of things beyond what others cannot even begin to comprehend.
"By taking this time turner, you will travel to Tom Riddle's sixth year—before the summer of his first horcrux creation. Stop him by any means possible. But, you must stay inconspicuous and be careful. He may be young, but he is still the potential dark wizard he is today. Be cautious and weary of your actions and whom you trust."
"What if… I can't stop him, Professor? What then?" Hermione asked worriedly.
"Then I am afraid that I will have to request the worst. You must end his life, Miss Granger. I know it is a lot to ask… but we have no other choice. Please consider this option," Dumbledore look pained as he spoke this to her. He knew Hermione was pure in heart and spirit. Asking her to kill was almost like requesting Harry to turn himself over to the Dark Lord willingly: both were ludicrous, but he knew that if it was requested of them to save their people… they would do so.
"But what about the time stream? Won't it be effected drastically?"
"Of course it will; those who were never meant to live shall live, Pettigrew never would have betrayed the Potters, and Neville's parents would never have been susceptible to the insanity of the Cruciatus curse. There will be some consequences, however. The different course of life may change an individual's personality or who they grew to know," Dumbledore stated.
Hermione's brow knitted together with worry. Would Harry having his parents back mean that the possibility that she would never become friends with him or Ron exist? Was losing a friendship and all of its memories worse than saving those who made your life bearable and helped give it meaning? Was it worth it to risk coming home to familiar faces who don't know her at the cost of saving them and their families? She cradled herself slightly. Of course it is, she tried telling herself, but she knew deep down she didn't feel that way. She knew it was selfish, but what if Ron and Harry didn't recognize her. What if they had moved on, never knew each other, and had changed? After all, if it weren't for the troll in the dungeon that Halloween night because of Voldemort, Ron, Harry, and her would have never became friends so quickly without question.
Hermione sat silent, lost in thought, for a few moments before turning her head up confidently to the Headmaster. "I will do it," Hermione spoke strongly. "How long will I have before I leave?"
"A week at the most, Miss Granger. Take this time to ready yourself for what is to come," Dumbledore rested his eyes as he spoke.
"When I travel… how long will I have before my—the future me… begins to fade?" Hermione gulped uneasily.
"It varies on the length of time travel often, but you will have about 2 to 3 years before your living memory begins to fall into critical danger."
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She had a little more time than she had previously thought, but spending up to 3 years in another time not her own without those dear to her tore at her heart.
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said as she rose from her seat.
"Miss Granger, I ask that you do not speak to Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley about the ordeal. It would be better to remain as subtle as possible."
"Yes, sir." Hermione turned and left Dumbledore's office feeling empty and distraught. She feared what was to come, but she had a duty to those around her and she would protect them in any means possible.
Dumbledore watched the girl leave quietly. It had reminded him too much of his discussions with Harry about his own prophecy in their fifth year. Though, he knew his faith wasn't misplaced. Hermione was strong and he had always expected great things from her. He now had his proof that great things were to come for certain—he just hoped that they would be for the greater good and not corrupted by the young dark wizard she would soon face.
A/N: Thanks for reading, I hope you guys liked itAs always, reviews, suggestions, and any other comments are always gladly appreciated and welcomed!