Chapter 6: Changing
Lily took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand before pushing the door open to the fifth year girls' dormitory. As she had expected, the others were still awake and they all immediately turned to her.
Dorcas and Hermione both looked as if they wanted to say something, but Mary simply got off the bed she had been sitting on, crossed the room and hugged her tight. For a second, Lily was stunned and motionless but then she embraced Mary, too, and took a deep, shaky breath.
After a while, she stepped back, Mary's hands still on her shoulders. "I'm okay. I'm good," she whispered and hugged her friend tightly again for a second. Then she threw herself onto Hermione's bed. "So. What have you all been talking about?"
Dorcas launched into telling an inane story that had absolutely nothing to do with the exams they had been talking about just minutes earlier with the clear intention of distracting Lily, whose smile could not at all hide the fact that she had clearly been crying just moments ago. Hermione grabbed her hand and gave it a quick squeeze; Lily looked over and smiled at her brightly. She suddenly felt warm, like she imagined Crookshanks must feel whenever he had curled up in the one spot in her dormitory that was sunny for hours, and for the first time she didn't think of Harry when she looked into those green eyes.
So much for keeping her distance.
The dungeon room is cold, high-ceilinged and generally rather gloomy. I try not to shiver as I sit down and unpack. When Professor Snape enters the room and starts the roll call, I draw my cloak a bit tighter around myself, hoping that my teeth don't chatter. Why is it so cold in here?
"Hermione… Granger," the Professor over-enunciates and, for the first time, looks at me. His expression does not change at all, but I feel another shiver run down my spine, and it has nothing to do with the dungeon's temperature. When he finishes checking attendance and begins to lecture us all about the particularly bewitching nature of Potions, I start trying to write, to take proper notes, but every time I look up, Snape's eyes are still boring into mine. It's creepy.
"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" The question cracks through the air like a whip, and I quickly raise my hand. When Harry Potter doesn't know the answer, Snape turns to me. "Granger. Perhaps you can prove the rumours about your surprisingly vast knowledge to be true. Powdered root of asphodel in an infusion of wormwood leads to what exactly?"
"The Draught of the Living Dead, Sir," I answer quickly and confidently. It's right in chapter 1, about the necessity to clearly differentiate ingredients. "The most potent of all sleeping potions." He does not look pleased about my answer, and I wonder if I've made some mistake.
"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Professor Snape asks, still looking at me, but when I want to answer, he quickly turns and calls on Harry Potter again, who doesn't know. Then he picks me, I answer correctly that bezoars can be found in the stomachs of goats but Professor Snape's mouth turns into an even thinner line. What is going on with this man? "And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane, Potter?"
Unsurprisingly enough, Harry doesn't know that either, but this time, Snape ignores my raised hand and turns away, striding back to the front of the room. He looks down at us all, perched at his desk like a crow, just waiting. I raise my hand a bit more – he probably just hasn't seen me – and when he still doesn't call on me, I stretch and raise my hand even further. Someone snickers behind me.
Ignoring the snickering, Snape lets the silence stretch and stretch and stretch while I try to raise my hand higher without standing up. He can't be ignoring me, he just doesn't see it, that Weasley kid sitting in front of me is gangly and tall after all. Finally, I blurt out loudly: "Monkshood and wolfsbane are two common names for the same plant, aconite, which is often used for its mind sharpening properties."
Professor Snape smiles sardonically. I feel like a mouse that's been trapped by an owl. "One point from Gryffindor, for speaking out of turn, Granger." He first fixes his eyes on me, then Harry, then me again. "And another one from Gryffindor for your lack of preparation, Potter. I expect all of you to keep up, and to do so necessitates reading and, more than that, actually comprehending what you have read. I will not tolerate any attempts to coast through my class based on undeserved fame." My throat feels closed off and weird. More students are snickering. "But I also will not tolerate know-it-alls who think that their overeagerness either makes them superior to their fellow students or that their brown-nosing endears them to me." I stare at my notes, trying to read what I've written down so far, hoping that I won't cry and knowing I will. "The only thing that counts in my class is genuine talent, and hard work. Now get out your books."
She woke up so suddenly that it felt almost violent. That was not what had happened, she knew. Snape had not called at her once in their very first Potions class and he hadn't humiliated her by calling her a know-it-all and a suck-up. He had only called on Harry who had finally said that she knew the answer and cost Gryffindor a point with his cheek.
She grabbed her wand, mumbled "Lumos" and accio'd quill, a scrap of parchment and a closed pot of ink to her bed. Hastily unscrewing the ink with one hand, her wand in the other, she once again wished she had an actual pen. Then she began scribbling down the memory of Snape ignoring her and bullying only Harry, then the words 'memory changing?!'. Hermione couldn't have explained why, but something drove her, bleary-eyed and half-asleep as she was. It felt crucial.
She put the quill down on the little night stand beside her bed and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. With a sigh, she folded the parchment in half and stuffed it between the bed frame and the mattress. For a second, she felt like a child in her parents' home again, hiding empty candy wrappers because she couldn't throw them away at home without being lectured about the dangers of sugar for her teeth. Then she realized that she had barely thought about her parents at all since she had gotten here.
Hermione pushed the thought and the sadness attached to it away. "Nox," she mumbled, put her wand down and curled up under her blanket again, trying to ignore what felt like a slowly widening hole in her chest. She screwed her eyes shut tightly and hoped for sleep to creep back in.
When she woke up again in the morning, she had forgotten all about the dream and the note. Sipping on her tea, she half-listened to Lily chattering away. The day stretched out before them both emptily and she was thinking gratefully about how this time around she hadn't taken Care of Magical Creatures and thus wouldn't have to sit the exam when Lily asked "What were you doing up and scribbling in the middle of the night, by the way?"
She frowned and felt the gears in her head turning until she remembered the dream and the vague sense that something about it had been odd. Now that Lily had reminded her of it, she could feel it niggling at the back of her consciousness. Why had she dreamt of her first Potions lesson? Hermione made up a white lie and resolved to look at the piece of parchment the first chance she got after breakfast.
When they got up, Hermione told her that she had forgotten her Transfiguration book in the Gryffindor tower. Lily doubted for a second that Hermione was being honest, but decided not to press the issue when they parted outside the Great Hall. She walked to the library, trying to distract herself from the fact that she had seen Snivellus sit with Mulciber of all people during breakfast. She wondered where Dorcas and Mary would want to meet over the summer holidays and whether she should invite Hermione, too.
Entering the library, she saw Remus at one of the first tables by the window and, when he waved at her, sat down opposite him. She spread out her stuff while they chatted in low voices until he suddenly cleared his throat and leaned closer to her. "Hey, I'm really sorry about what happened yesterday. I should've said something earlier to get them to lay off Snivellus," he whispered.
She sighed and shook her heard wordlessly. He couldn't help but wonder if she just didn't want to talk about it, or if she accepted his apology. For a moment, he thought about telling Lily about Snape's howling and sneaking around and how that had angered Sirius and James, but decided against it. She clearly didn't want to talk about it, which made the other topic he had meant to talk to her about even more uncomfortable. Still, there was no point avoiding it, and he did not want to wait until their next Prefect round. So he cleared his throat again.
"Look, Lily, there's something else I need to talk about with you." She looked up, her piercing green eyes making his stomach lurch, and blushed slightly. She clearly knew what this would be about, and he shifted in his seat awkwardly.
They had kissed after their last patrol of the castle. It had been the evening before their OWLs started and the first exam had been Potions, which Lily had been extremely nervous about. She had forgotten the time while studying in the library, so she couldn't eat before their patrol. When they were done, her stomach had been grumbling so loudly that Remus had essentially been incapable of focusing on their conversation. He had taken her to the kitchen which she had promised not to show anyone else. They'd sat down on the grand stairs opposite the doors of the Great Hall to eat and kept talking for ages even when all the food was gone. Finally, when he had made some joke that kept Lily laughing for what felt like eternity, she had suddenly leaned over and kissed him out of nowhere.
It had been his first kiss, and he had hoped for most of it that she couldn't hear how loudly his heart was beating in his chest. She had tasted a bit like pumpkin from the pastries that she had just eaten, and smelled like oranges. She had been soft and warm under his fingers and pulled him in tightly by the front of his shirt. He had barely been able to look at her ever since without blushing.
It hadn't been her first kiss, but so far it had been the kiss Lily had liked most. Something about Remus sneaking her to the kitchen and telling her that silly pun about Macbeth being the greatest killer of chicken in all of Shakespeare's works had just sparked this urge in her. She had acted on it because she couldn't see a reason not to, and she hadn't been sure when she would have another chance. He had been surprised and shy, but she remembered how he had whispered "Wow" when they had broken apart for a moment and how much it had turned her on.
He'd had a crush on her for a while, of course. It had probably started some time near the end of their fourth year during one of their Arithmancy study sessions, though he had thought it would die down over the summer. When they were made Prefects together, he had realised that it hadn't, so he considered himself lucky that they wouldn't patrol the castle together for the first three months, instead going around with the sixth year Gryffindor prefects. Still, he had resolved not to act on it. That she had kissed him had been a complete and utter surprise.
Which of course made what he would say next all the more difficult.
"What happened the last time we patrolled together – it can't happen again. You can't kiss me again."
She felt like she had been slapped and had to blink rapidly to stop from immediately bursting into tears. That was not what she had expected – she had hoped Remus would ask if he could write her over the summer, or maybe see her again. He had kissed her back, after all, and while they had not walked back to the Gryffindor tower holding hands or anything, they had kept brushing against each other, and he had hugged her tight when they had said good night. "Why?" she croaked out, hating how feeble her voice sounded.
"It's James," Remus answered quickly, feeling deeply guilty and slightly ashamed immediately. "He really, really likes you and I can't date the girl one of my best mates fancies."
The expression on her face shifted from sadness and confusion to anger. For a second, he was worried she would hex him. Instead, she calmly said "You do know that there is no chance in hell I'll ever date Potter, don't you? It's just – it's never happening." He wanted to respond, explain to her that it wasn't about her dating James or not – it wasn't even mainly about James, of course, though he could never tell her that – but rather about what it would do to their friendship, but before he could say anything, Lily kept talking. "I really, really like you, Remus. You are funny and smart and so, so nice. Like, you are genuinely just so kind, and that you don't want to date me or kiss me or whatever because of your idiot friend's idiot crush on me just… stinks. But –" She took a deep breath and tried not to sound as bitter and annoyed as she felt. "That's just what it is, I guess."
He visibly relaxed and smiled ever so slightly at her. It felt awful to lie to her, but he felt like it was a white lie he could live with easily. Definitely more easily than with her finding out that he was a werewolf, something that was guaranteed to happen if they actually, seriously dated. Still, it sucked.
She closed her Transfiguration book rather forcefully, and sighed when Remus looked at her quizzically. "Look, I just… I need to go." When her voice cracked on the last word, he wanted nothing more than to reach out, hug her and take back what he had just said. "I… I kinda need some time, I think. Sorry."
Lily quickly strode out of the library. She had realized that as much as she wanted it to be okay with it just being like that, the rejection had stung too much for her to sit across from Remus and not cry. She remembered the flutter in her stomach when she had entered the library and seen him, the way she had imagined she would ask him to go down to the lake and maybe kiss him again, and just wanted to kick herself.
Some part of her wanted to turn around and lay into him, or at the very least ask if this was really about Potter. The same part of her doubted it, and suspected it might have far more to do with the scar she had felt under his shirt when they had kissed and his monthly bursts of illnesses. Then again, what if she stormed into the library and confronted him? What if she told him what she suspected? She doubted he would change his mind, and if she was wrong she was sure he would never speak to her again. And as hurt as she was right now, she didn't want to never speak to Remus again.
Instead, she turned towards the Prefects' bathroom. With everything that had happened over the last couple of days, there was no way she would be able to focus on studying now. Splashing around seemed like the perfect distraction.
When she reached the entrance, she realised she didn't know the password. Staring at the Gargoyle, she remembered what Harry had once told her about Dumbledore's sweet tooth. With a sigh, Hermione started reciting Wizarding sweets alphabetically, feeling incredibly silly at the same time. Finally, she heard a small chuckle and someone clearing their throat behind her.
He smiled at her, amused by the methodical approach to something as whimsical as candy names. "Miss Granger. If you want to speak to me, you could have just as easily sent me an owl to ask for the password." When she blushed slightly, Albus smiled even more broadly. "It's Jelly Slugs at the moment."
"Thanks, Professor." She followed him onto the steps of the staircase, standing in awkward silence as it turned. She was still trying to figure out how to phrase her worries, confused by the note she had found between her bed frame and mattress.
Entering the office, Albus swished his wand and re-conjured the burgundy armchair she had sat in when she had first arrived as well as an identical one in which he sat down. "So, Miss Granger, how have you been adjusting?"
"Fine, Professor. Well, mostly. The exams are keeping me busy. And…" She tucked a curl behind her ear and reached into her bag. Taking out the note, she kept unfolding and then refolding it. "I think I had a weird … dream last night. I'm not even sure if dream is the right word for it. Because I felt like dreamt it first, but now I remember it clearly. But I wrote down that I dreamed it last night, and that and how my actual memory were different. But I don't remember that first memory at all any more."
He kept his face calm, furrowing his brow ever so slightly as if to indicate that he was curious. The truth was that his thoughts were racing. If Hermione Granger's memories were changing, as her question suggested, the implications were monumental. It could throw everything believed and known about temporal magic so far into question.
"Could I see the note?" He asked, his voice level and unconcerned.
She unfolded and straightened it. "I… I don't think you can. It contains some information about the future that you… that I think you shouldn't have, Professor." Except for Umbridge, she had never really refused to do something when one of her teachers had asked, she realized. It immediately made her nervous but the fact that Dumbledore simply nodded calmly put her more at ease again. "I wrote down 'memories changing' with a question mark at the bottom of the page, and described my very first Potions lesson. The professor gave us a lecture on the nature of potion making and then humiliated a student by asking him questions he couldn't have been expected to know the answers to. I knew the answers and was really overeager because the professor ignored me. Ultimately, the student that he was humiliating made a cheeky comment about me knowing the answer and lost Gryffindor a point."
Again, Dumbledore simply nodded and she continued. "But that's not how I remember it now. At all. What I remember now is that the same professor asked the other student the same questions. But when the other student couldn't answer, he called on me for the first two questions and then ignored me when he asked the third one. And then, when it all felt too awkward, I just gave the answer and he deducted two points from Gryffindor for me being a know-it-all and for the other student being unprepared."
She realized that she was acutely embarrassed by it, by her need for everyone to know that she was the smartest girl in the room and by wanting Professor Snape's approval so much. And she was also angry at him again, at the clear set up just to humiliate her and Harry. It was curious because she had been completely calm, detached even, when she had described the first situation.
Dumbledore looked at her over the rim of his half-moon spectacles, his face serene. "It does seem like you have drawn the correct conclusions. Your memories might be changing. Has this happened before?"
He could see that she wanted to say no, the word had already been half formed, when she suddenly clammed up again. "I'm not… sure, actually," she finally whispered, eyes wide.
"I assumed as much. Well, Miss Granger, I can see only one way of being sure about your memories changing or not." She looked at him in confusion, and he smiled again. "You will need to start writing down as much of your life at Hogwarts until the moment of the accident that brought you here, and check it against what you remember as you go about your life for as long as you are here. Of course that won't prevent you recording already changed memories, but it will enable you to note if your memories change again."
"Oh, that's brilliant," she whispered. He smiled, sure that it was masking the gears turning in his mind. He purposefully hadn't mentioned the obvious conclusion to be drawn from her memories changing to Miss Granger, who cleared her throat and folded the piece of paper again. "Professor… doesn't the fact that my memories change mean the future is changing? It's my past, so I can remember it. But it still hasn't actually happened to anyone else. Or has it? But if it had, if it was the future and the past at the same time and set in stone no matter what I do, wouldn't my memories stay the way they are?"
She tried to read his face, but his smile, which had been rather small anyway, remained fixed and his alert blue eyes gave nothing away.
"Loath as I am to admit it, Miss Granger, I'm not sure," he lied, observing her face and body language closely. "It seems that way, but I find it difficult to say to what extent your actions and presence can change the future. There may be moments that may be unchangeable because they lead to you being transported here in the first place." At this, she paled ever so slightly, and Albus wondered what exactly she thought these moments could be and why they horrified her so much. "This is uncharted territory for me, too. And time has always been a rather tricky mistress, even without magic being thrown into the mix. However…"
He smiled slightly more widely at her. "I wonder if we might not be able to pinpoint the reason for this specific change. Might the future Potions teacher be someone who, for example, currently resides in the Gryffindor tower with whom you only recently interacted? Professor McGonagall of course told me about your request when she introduced you to your housemates." She nodded and again looked like she wanted to say something, but he interrupted her. "Professor McGonagall's reasoning was correct then, and it still stands despite what we might have just learned. The school year will soon be over, and by the time the next one starts you might no longer be here."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "So you think I will be able to return to my own time?" She felt so happy she wanted to cry. She could not wait to throw herself into Ron and Harry's embrace. "Soon?"
"I am… cautiously optimistic that we will have some answers soon." He hoped that the good news would distract the girl from the far more pressing question at hand. "Reuben has a colleague that he considers more than trustworthy, Edgar Bones, that I will meet this week. I do think it will be necessary to tread carefully, to introduce him to the Order first and get to know him, before consulting him about your situation." She was surprised by the warmth in his eyes. "Still, I hope to introduce you to him before the end of July."
"Thank you, Professor." She felt like a weight had been taken of her shoulders. "I was also wondering… I don't really have a place to go over the summer. I have no family and no money, so –"
"So you were wondering if you could stay at Hogwarts over the summer? Yes, you can. The castle will be deserted except for Professor McGonagall and myself, who are familiar with your situation, so making this exception will not be a problem. Of course you'll have to take the train back to London with everyone else and then come back here with a portkey for appearance's sake, but that can easily be arranged."
When she had thanked and said good bye to him, Albus couldn't help but wonder if his approach was really the right one. The girl seemed not only to trust him greatly but to also be rather bright. She had arrived at roughly the same conclusion as he had. Still, he found it hard to gauge her reactions, to have a sense of what she would do if he made it clearer that her presence was most likely changing the future. He found it even more difficult to imagine how she would have reacted if he had let her know that he had already spoken to Edgar Bones about some of the intricacies of temporal magic and time turners.
With a sigh, he turned to Fawkes. Edgar's answers had disconcerted him. The fact that her presence was affecting the future was even more concerning – especially because it most likely meant that whatever benefit it could have meant in the war against Voldemort was essentially null and void. He had hoped that Miss Granger's knowledge of what was yet to come could serve as a shield against the coming storm. Now he wasn't just unsure if Miss Granger would even share that knowledge but also whether it would even be safe to ask.