Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the kind words, I love your reviews and hearing feedback really gives me so much motivation to keep this story going. I hope you like this chapter!

Hermione, once again, woke up in a cot in the Hospital Wing in pain. She groaned as she opened her eyes, feeling as if a Hippogriff had gone prancing about in her head. She hoped the old coot was happy. She would have easily given him access to her mind if he had simply asked, but she supposed Albus Dumbledore wasn't a man who was used to having to ask permission.

"It's for the greater good," she whispered to herself, mockingly, wincing as her head protested the fact that she was conscious.

"We have to stop meeting like this," came a voice from her right.

Hermione almost jumped six feet in the air, reaching for her wand, and turning to face her surprise guest who was-

"Bloody hell! Merlin, James, are you trying to kill me?" Hermione's heart was pounding in her chest and her head was pounding in synch, yet she held her wand steady at the boy. "If you keep sneaking up on me, I can't be held responsible when I hex your pretty face." She grumbled, finally lowering her wand and covering her face with her hands. She really hoped Madame Pomphrey had been informed of the mind invasion she had gone through, and more than that, she hoped this Madame Pomphrey knew the recipe for the pain potion that included a Strengthening Draught. It worked wonders when one had a headache.

"You think I'm pretty?" James asked quietly.

"What are you going on about?" Hermione said, looking at the boy across from her who had a stupid grin on his face and a slight blush to his cheeks.

"You said, and I quote, 'when I hex your pretty face'." James repeated, that stupid grin still present.

"Oh, don't let it go to your head, you nutter." Hermione adjusted herself so she was sitting back on the pillows. "You'd think no one has ever called you pretty before." She finished with annoyance. Everyone in her time had always said how confident and proud James had been in himself, calling him the perfect Gryffindor. Professor Snape had accused him of strutting about as if he owned the school, yet this boy in front of her was almost bashful?

"Pretty annoying, pretty smart, pretty much a pain in the ass, but never just plain pretty." James admitted, changing his voice on each phrase to reflect who had said those things to him. Hermione guessed it was Remus, Minerva, and Lily in that order, but found it hard to tell from his poor imitations. And she couldn't very well just come out and ask because she wasn't supposed to know any of these people yet.

She sighed. All this time traveling stuff was adding to her already bad headache.

At the sound, James reached into his pocket, handing Hermione a vial. "Madame Pomphrey told me to give this to you when you wake up." Without missing a beat, Hermione had downed the contents of the vial. Within moments, her headache had faded, leaving behind a dull ache that was manageable, especially considering how much the rest of her body ached. "And Dumbledore said that if you were up to it, I could take you to the Alley to get the basics."

The thought of getting out of bed and being out and about made Hermione want to curl up in a ball and sob, but she had to be stronger than that. She had to get her bearings here, figure out what was going on, and make a plan. Considering she had nothing besides the clothes on her back, Hermione was not off to the best start.

"If you're not up to it," James began hesitantly.

"No, of course I am. Give me a few minutes and I'll be ready to go." Hermione took a deep breath and under James' watchful eye, Hermione got herself up and moving.

James was kind enough to Transfigure her some clothing that was comfortable and conveniently fit the time period, much to Hermione's dismay. Colored high-waisted jeans weren't exactly her favorite thing in the world, but she sucked up her distaste for the clothing and focused her attention on managing to get something of sustenance into her system. Under James' and Madame Pomphrey's watchful eyes, Hermione managed to eat a few crackers and drink her tea. This meager meal felt like a weight deep in her stomach and she immediately felt nauseous and heavy. Months on the run with little to eat would do that to a girl. She was surprised she had the energy she did at the final battle with how much the boys and her had wasted away while on the run. Maybe it was just pure adrenaline. Adrenaline was something Hermione was lacking at the moment, and she knew it would be a long road until she was healthy and strong again.

Madame Pomphrey, on Dumbledore's instructions, had opened up the Floo connection to Diag"on Alley for the two students. With a moment of hesitation, Hermione announced her destination and was lost in green flames.

"Take care of her," Madame Pomphrey whispered to the Head Boy, wringing her hands with worry for her patient.

"I will, I promise," James responded, seriously. Him and the other Marauders had already made a pact that they would be the girl's support system here at Hogwarts. They felt connected to her somehow, almost as if she was a missing puzzle piece in their lives. James called his destination loudly, materializing and looking around immediately for his charge. He found her leaning up against the counter of the bar, talking to Tom, a serious look on her face.

Hermione, had, upon arriving at the Leaky Cauldron had immediately lost her balance and stumbled into the nearby countertop for support. Tom, the ever conscientious bar-tender immediately came to her aid, propping her up against the bar when she had refused a seat. She introduced herself and thanked the man, ignoring his questioning gaze at her weak and frazzled state. She knew from past experience that Tom was a gossip, worse than any old lady in a tea parlor. In her time, he had been a good source of information about the comings and goings in the area. While he remained neutral for the sake of his establishment, he would always lend a hand where he could to the Order. For that, he had earned Hermione's respect, if not her trust.

She heard James before she felt him, his sigh of relief probably louder than he meant for it to be.

"I thought I had lost you already. Madame Pomphrey would have had my head. And then I realized, you couldn't have made it far." He trailed off, ruffling his fair in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, that came out wrong. I'm not doubting your ability to get anywhere. Hell, I saw you in the Great Hall, ready to fight even after everything you had been through." He swore to himself, a rueful smile on his face that Hermione found really endearing. "I'm not too great at this, am I? I'm sure you don't want to talk about your arrival and now I've brought up a bad memory and-."

"James," Hermione cut him off before he could go and give himself an aneurism with his nervousness. "Let's just get to shopping, shall we?" She held out her arm, as if to escort him, but in reality was hoping this position would give her more stability for what was sure to be a long day.

James gallantry took her arm, after a dramatic bow that had all of the occupants in the pub looking at the duo with smiles on their faces. They made their way out into Diagon Alley slowly, James taking the time to explain the way the brick wall worked and showing Hermione the proper movements. As Hermione had not thought to figure out some kind of cover story for herself, she acted as if this was new information to her.

She didn't have to feign her awe at seeing Diagon Alley. It was so different from what it had been last time she was here. While there was an air of nervousness in the air, there was laughter and color, and shops filled with life and sound. The sight almost filled her eyes with tears. Things were so different in this time. Shops weren't being burned to the ground by Death Eaters, people weren't scurrying about with their heads down, and she, Harry Potter's best friend and Undesirable Number Two, could walk around without anyone recognizing her.

"It's pretty cool, huh?" James finally said, after letting her take it all in. He edged her forward, into the hustle and bustle. The crowd made her skin crawl and she couldn't help the way her eyes darted around, constantly scanning for some threat. If James noticed her weird behavior, he was nice enough to not mention it. His arm in hers, grounded her, allowing her to be in the moment and not completely freak out.

"Where to first?"

Hermione didn't even have to think about this. "Ollivander's."

If possible, James' face softened even more for the girl in front of him. He couldn't imagine how vulnerable she felt without her wand. Without a word, he led her in the direction of the quaint shop, where almost every witch or wizard got their first introduction to their own magic.

The bell tolled as they entered, and a loud crash could be heard from the back. Hermione inched forward, his fingers shaking with nervousness and excitement. Once she had a wand back in her hand, she would feel like herself again. Or at least that's what she kept telling herself. Being here again made her feel like a little first year, about to enter the wizarding world for the first time. The sheer magic and wonder of holding that tiny stick in her hand and feeling the power flow through her was something that Hermione wished everyone could experience. And now, she was going to experience it again.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," The eccentric wizard appeared from behind nearly collapsed shelves, his eyes wide and his hair stuck nearly straight up, but substantially less grey than Hermione remembered it being in her time. "11 inches, Mahogany, pliable, and excellent for Transfiguration. I hope it's treating you okay?"

Hermione would never cease to be amazed at Ollivander's ability to remember the wands that chose each witch and wizard that came through his doors. It was as impressive as it was uncanny.

James chuckled. "Yes, sir, it's done me quite well." He leaned forward to whisper in the old man's ear. Hermione thought she heard him say something that sounded like 'stag'. The old man lit up with pride.

"Really? I'd love to hear more about how the process was for you and if you think your wand had an impact on-."

"Yes, of course, sir. Just not today. Today we need to find a wand for a very special witch." At James' proclamation, Ollivander's eyes turned to her and felt as if they were looking into her very soul.

"Interesting," the man announced, before waving his wand and summoning his measuring tape and a small notepad and self-writing quill. He took what seemed to be random measurements, starting with the wand arm, then going to the head circumference, and ending with the distance between her eyes. Hermione stayed perfectly still throughout it all, going cross eyed at the end to James' amusement. Ollivander vanished only to rustle in the back for a few minutes. He reappeared with boxes upon boxes of wands.

Hermione did not want to undermine the process of the renowned wand maker, but she couldn't help herself. "Mr. Ollivander, sir, if I could…"

James gave her a look of utter disbelief but Hermione pushed on. "I've read up a bit on wand lore and I'd love to see if what I've learned was correct at all." Ollivander dropped the boxes in his hands in complete shock. Hermione couldn't help herself. She wanted to feel her wand in her hand. "I'd like to try a 10 3/4, vine wood, dragon heartstring core." She said, trying to sound unsure about her choice to not tip James and Ollivander off. "The books say that it works well with my birth date and the fact that vine is a symbol of passion."

Ollivander peered at her with an odd look on his face, before pulling out one of the boxes he had in his hand and giving it to her. When Hermione opened it, she felt as if her heart was singing. She took the wand into her hand and felt her magic rush through it, felt the light flicker and the wind as the wand chose its owner.

"I can't say that's ever happened before." Ollivander was equally amazed and confused, but James was standing there with his mouth open in shock. "You seem to have a gift for wand lore." Ollivander finally admitted.

James paid for the wand, but it was as if Hermione could not see the world around her. Already she felt better, having her wand in her hand again. Then suddenly, she froze. If this wand, her wand, chose her in 1979, what was the Hermione Granger of the future going to do?

Author's Note (and shameless plug): If anyone has a Tik Tok, I have been working on posting Harry Potter content on there, including a gender bend Percy Weasley mini-series where Percy is sorted into Slytherin and a mini-series about Alice Fortescue/Longbottom during her time as an Auror in the Ministry. My username is whimsicalwinter is anyone wants to check my content on there out.