A/N: Thank you for all the reviews and follows! I seem to be on a bit of a roll with the chapters, hopefully that doesn't slow down.
oOo
Hermione came to on the hardwood floor of 12 Grimmauld Place, gagging and retching, as her nasal passages were accosted by the most horrific scent she had ever had the misfortune to encounter in all her twenty-three years; rivaled only by, perhaps, Ron's Quidditch gear. The Ginger Twit used to leave his duffle bag open, "to air, out" at Hermione's flat every Wednesday after practice. That stench had been unbearable, but this putrid horror was like a thousand rotting tomatoes left inside a dead horse.
"Where did you find an old stink bomb, Pads?" She heard a deep voice inquire as she continued to cough uncontrollably.
"Find? Please, I keep a stash in my Hogwarts trunk. Never know when you might find use for one." Another voice, not quite as deep, but still undeniably masculine, chuckled.
Will this day never end? Hermione rubbed her dark hands over her face and eyes. The act was made difficult by the ropes still secured around her wrists, which only served to deepen her frustration as she was reminded where she was.
"Did the trick, though, didn't it? She's conscious again." James was besides Hermione on the floor, patting her back with a sturdy hand. "There you go, just cough it out, Miss. We've all been on the receiving end of one of those hellish things before."
"Wh-ack ugh- what the hell is wrong with you three?" Hermione was finally able to hack out between coughs. Her nose was running, her eyes watery, she knew she must've looked a right mess, and she was absolutely out of patience. Shite was about to get ugly. "Untie me this instant."
"That'd be a strong 'no'." Sirius remarked from above her.
"Listen, you need to let me go." Hermione Granger was a reasonable witch, she had developed the ability to conjure stunning patience and composure under intense frustration during her years at Hogwarts, nagging at Harry and Ron to complete their homework, but all witches had their limits.
"Oh?" Sirius raised a dark eyebrow. Gods, he looks so young. Could it really be 1982?
No, there was no way it could be 1982. Though, if it were, that would explain everything that was going on, save for the tiny detail of how in the bloody hell Hermione had gotten here. The witch was no stranger to time travel, having used a time-turner herself third year to attend classes, but this was madness. Time-turners go back hours, not decades, and she was fairly certain she would have remembered using a time-turner. Based on what she could recall from research, as well as personal experience, there were no time-turner side effects that altered or disrupted one's memories. Not only that, but Hermione was present in the Time Chamber when the remaining time-turners had been destroyed, she'd witnessed it with her amber eyes right before Dolohov had cursed her.
Not to mention this was wrong. James and Lily Potter died on October 31st, 1981.
Either she had gone insane or- no, no she'd gone insane. The simplest answer is always the correct answer.
Almost always.
"Unless, I suppose, you plan on keeping me trapped here." Hermione met Sirius' gaze levelly.
"She has a point, mate, you can't keep her like this." James agreed; the wizard had turned out to be quite helpful.
Good job, Ganger, at least you were able to hallucinate a little support.
Sirius grabbed his best mate's arm, roughly pulling him from the floor, and turned him away, speaking in a hushed tone. Remus, still standing, turned his eyes towards his friends, using his heightened hearing to listen in while still remaining close to their prisoner.
Noticing immediately that her captors had shifted their focus, Hermione looked down at the conjured ropes restraining her arms and legs without moving her head, so as not to draw attention back to herself. Methodically and swiftly, the witch went through the extensive catalogue of spells she meticulously maintained in the forefront of her mind. She hadn't tested many-or any- of those spells, charms, or curses while confined in this way, the need had never arisen. Come to think, however, it would probably be a good practice for the Department to institute; forcing Aurors to learn to cast spells while bound or restrained.
Oh good, Granger, give Kinglsey and Savage a report of all your new ideas as soon as you figure out how to escape your own lunacy.
And then it struck her.
If this was all in her mind, then she wasn't really tied up to begin with. If this was all in her mind, then why should a mundane detail like what she had and had not tested stop her? If practitioners of lucid dreaming could manipulate their dreams, then surely the Brightest Witch of Her Age could exploit and alter her own hallucinations.
Surely.
The notion was so simple, so unbelievably straightforward, that Hermione almost started giggling.
Sure, why the fuck not?
Hermione narrowed her eyes and flicked her fingers.
Sectumsempra.
A bright, white light exploded from her hands and slashed through her bindings. The curse was less controlled than her usual conjurings and sliced into Hermione's left calf muscle, but the witch didnt notice, she was already on her feet, wand in hand.
"Holy-"
"Petrificus Totalus Omnes!" Hermione called out, waving her wand. She couldn't help but smirk with delight when all three wizards fell to the floor, frozen. Adding 'omnes' at the end had been a split second decision; she'd been experimenting with the notion of manipulating spells to affect more than one person at a time, but had not yet perfected it. Her wild hair was practically crackling with power, what other spells could she do?
Hallucination or not, a girl could get used to this.
"Now, I'm sorry to have had to do that to you, gentleman, I truly am." Hermione stepped towards the Marauders, keeping her wand extended before her. "However, I've spent a great deal of time incapacitated today and, as you can imagine, I am ready for that experience to be over."
The petrified wizards didn't move, but Hermione could nearly feel the rage rolling off Sirius. Remus, she thought, almost looked impressed, despite his motionless features.
"Here's the thing, I can't very well leave the three of you here like this, and even if I could, I don't particularly want to. So I'll offer you a trade. I will un-bind you if you will take me to Albus Dumbledore. Let's not waste time with the 'how do we know your intentions are good, Miss Granger' and I'll let you know right now, that it wouldn't matter if my intentions were good or bad, Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard of this century, there's nothing I could do to harm him." Hermione paused, biting the inside of her cheek. "I'll let you consider it for a moment."
Carefully, Hermione walked around to the three wizards and collected their wands; she had to tug on Sirius's a few times to wrench it from his frozen grip.
"Next time you're in the field, Sirius, I hope you remember that once apprehended, it is standard Auror protocol to confiscate the wands of any detainee." Hermione said primly.
Not that it really matters, you're a figment of my imagination anyway. Gods, Granger, you have lost it.
"I hope that was time enough for you to contemplate all your options, of which there are two. Help me or remain petrified on the floor until someone comes looking for you. Now," Hermione straightened her spine. "I'm going to free James first, as he seems to be the most reasonable of the three of you, plus he did bring me my tea. James, my wand is already out and as you can see, I'm quite capable with it, so let's just all remain calm."
Hermione lifted her arm and then hesitated.
"Just so you know, I-I don't plan on hurting any of you, alright?" She waved her wand and Jame's rigid body relaxed with an audible plop as his limbs hit the floor, but the wizard himself didn't move.
"J-James?" Hermione whispered, leaning towards him. Jame's pale face was scrunched, dark brows drawn together, and hazel eyes fixated on the ceiling. Slowly, he sat up, pulling his legs to his chest, he hooked his arms around his knees and moved his gaze to Hermione, cocking his head to the side. Hermione had to resist the urge to fidget before that face that looked so much like her best friend's. "Do we have a deal?"
"It doesn't seem we have much of choice, Miss Granger." Jame's voice was calm, but Hermione could hear the hardness beneath it.
Honestly, Granger, you shouldn't feel bad you petrified a hallucination. But what if he's not a hallucination? Then you just petrified Harry's beloved father, way to go.
"Okay, yes, good." Hermione allowed herself a small smile and then waved her wand at Remus, who immediately jumped to his feet; Hemrione tightened her grip on her wand, but the werewolf didn't move any closer. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at the curly haired witch, who gave him, what she hoped was, an innocent look.
"Listen, I know these were not the most optimum of conditions for us to become acquainted, but if you can just get me to Hogwarts, I'll be out of your hair." Hermione petitioned the two wizards.
"Hogwarts?" Remus asked, looking at James, who shrugged, and then back to Hermione. "I thought you said you wanted to see Albus Dumbledore."
"Yes, I want to see Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts." Hermione answered impatiently. Were they trying to stall?
"Miss Granger," Remus said very slowly, as if speaking to a child. "Minerva McGonagall is the Headmistress of Hogwarts."
"Wha-I don't... I'm sorry?" Hermione finally asked, her heart had begun to beat rapidly. "Then-then where is Dumbledore?"
Remus and James were looking at Hermione like she'd just sprouted antlers and was running around in the nip, yelling "Long live the Queen!"
"At his home, I'd think." Remus remarked. "He is, after all, the Minister of Magic."
Well this is an interesting turn of events.
"If that's the case, then I suppose I should have intro'd with a different question." Hermione pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, considering what this meant for her. "Can you take me to Albus Dumbledore?"
"If it means getting my wand back, I'll take you to anyone you want." Remus's voice was cold. "But I'll be honest, your best bet of getting to the Minister is currently the only one of us still petrified on the floor."
"How do you mean?" Hermione asked.
"Well you see, James and I here don't work, the only one of us employed is Sirius, and not only that, he's employed for the Ministry. One of their top Aurors, y'see, though I know it's hard to tell based on the brief experiences you've had with him this evening. If anyone was going to be able to arrange a meeting between you and Dumbledore, it'd be him. Plus, as the last heir to the House of Black, he also has their seat on the Wizengamot."
Hermione gulped. Everything was turning out to be so bloody complicated.
"Y'know, for an intruder in an Auror robe, you seem woefully disconnected with the goings on of Wizarding Britain." James remarked from the floor.
"Do I? Yes well, it's be been a very long day, you see. Feels like decades even." Hemrione muttered, turning her attention to where Sirius lay frozen on the floor. She was really not looking forward to his reaction to all this. "Listen, I'd like to give you two your wands back."
Remus and James snapped to attention.
"BUT I need some sort of promise that you won't turn around and hex me. I'd really prefer to not be hexed at this point." She eyed the two wizards, who were exchanging looks wearily, and then sighed. Bollocks. "I can't trust the two of you not to do something, then?"
"Well..." Remus began slowly, to Hermione's surprise he seemed to be the elected speaker of the group; of course, that was contingent on Sirius being petrified. "I think the lack of trust issue is a bit...mutual, don't you? I'm not sure I can say Sirius overreacted, if you were just waiting in his house for him to get home."
"I most definitely was not waiting for Sirius Black." Hermione all but huffed.
"See, that makes this-" Remus waved his hand through the air "-all the more strange."
Hermione was not a witch who liked to show her hand, in the words of the esteemed Kenny Rogers (her father's favorite American singer), you've got to know when to hold 'em, but unfortunately, this didn't seem like a situation Hermione could walk nor run from. You never count your money...
Focus, Granger. Fuck, what is going on in your head today?
Hermione looked hard at Remus and James, shifting her weight between her feet as she considered her options. If this was all in her imagination, what did it matter anyway?
"You have to trust me, because I know how to bring down the Dark Lord." Hermione spoke slowly, rolling every word off her tongue with precision so the two men before her wouldn't miss even a single syllable. She watched as the color drained from both their faces in horror, but not, she decided, in belief.
Remus opened his mouth to speak again, but Hermione cut him off.
"Tell me, how is the Order these days?"
Remus snapped his mouth closed, green eyes wide.
At least now I know the Order exists in this timeline- I mean, hallucination.
"What order would that be? Did you call in some take-away?" The half-blood asked.
"You're hilarious, Lupin." Hermione almost rolled her eyes, she really didn't have time for this. "I have valuable information for Dumbledore and the Order, please, you have to trust me."
"And why is that, Miss Granger? Why do I have to trust you?"
"Because I... I..." - fuck- "Because I know you're a werewolf."
Remus looked at her as if his grandmother had just risen from the grave and told him he was actually born an eight-legged horse.
"H-how would you know that?" Remus whispered, taking a step back.
"I know many things" - it's kinda what I'm good at- "and, please, you have to take me to Dumbledore."