A/N: So I forgot to mention, in the last chapter I referenced a "different trouser of time," this is a reference to Terry Pratchett's Guards!Gaurds! Ten points if anyone got it! As always, I am eternally thankful for y'all reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting my little story. You're so amazing, I can't even express it to you. Thank you!
oOo
Hermione had not, at first, expected to become an Auror and, indeed, no one else had expected that of her either. Magical Law Enforcement was a path, she had told herself, she would leave to her boys, who seemed to rush into their Auror training with thought of little else; especially not N.E.W.T.S. or Hogwarts. Hermione had thought being an Auror would mean essentially returning to the front lines of a war whose smoldering embers were not yet extinguished. Their Dark Lord was dead, but his loyal hordes remained.
After completing her final year at Hogwarts and taking her N.E.W.T.S., Hermione had only spent, in total, three months with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures before. It was not that Hermione had disliked her time with the DRCMC and, even in her brief tenure there, had overseen the dismantling of no less than twenty-three archaic and discriminatory laws, and was personally responsible for the abolition of another seventeen; admittedly, she had survived more on coffee and raw determination in those months than a healthy sleep routine. Not that she had a healthy sleep routine to begin with. Hermione's circadian rhythm was less rhythmic and more just silent. Silent and filled with the constant machinations of her impossibly ready mind, which ironically, was the exact reason she left the DRCMC.
Pre-Battle of Hogwarts, school had been Hermione's sanctuary, the library had been her chapel, and books had been her religion. Post-Battle of Hogwarts, nothing was sacred.
A Ministry Worker's role is to sit and read, to sit and read and think, to sit and read and think and write. The passivity of this is what draws many to the profession. To pour endlessly over ancient tomes and convoluted laws, to write and read, to edit and improve while safely behind a desk was precisely what Hermione Granger had thought she so desperately wanted. To put her stunning brain to use for the greater good, while simultaneously staying far away from said loyal dark hordes who wanted her dead.
As it turns out passivity is boring as hell.
Hermione would sit at her tiny desk, crowded with files and texts, half written letters and day old coffee in a similar unfinished state, and she would think. Her body would be still, oppressively still, while she considered, with meticulous imagination, how every item in her office might be used to exterminate an assailant if her wand was expelliarmus'ed out of her hand. The convenient thing about purebloods is they seem to often forget that one does not require a spell to murder or harm. Muggle-borns, however, never forget.
Muggles have spent thousands of years inventing new and creative means by which to slaughter each other with not even the barest hints of magic. In Muggle London you could be stabbed, shot (if someone had an illegal firearm), hit over the head with a tree branch, shanked (which is not unlike being stabbed), run over by a car, or any number of other non-magical violent means. Wizards tended to stick to wand use, quite predictable really.
On her first assignment, with Seamus as her reluctant partner, a Death Eater groupie, disappointed to have not had the opportunity to swear fidelity to Voldemort himself, had gone on a Muggle killing spree. The wizard, who turned out to be a relation of Dean Thomas's on his father's side, was sloppy and it had taken Seamus and Hermione less than seven hours to track him down to his own flat. The idiocy of certain lawbreakers would never cease to astound Hermione, who had the unfortunate flaw of usually assuming people were at least half as smart as she.
Seamus had not followed protocol, a choice that Hermione still gave him shite about even to this day, which dictated that, when entering a dangerous situation with one or more suspected Dark Wizard, it is mandatory that Aurors send a patrons for no less than two back up Aurors. Instead, to Hermiones eternal frustration, Seamus had burst into the flat, wand raised and Hermione had little choice but to follow after him, cursing the foolishness of males.
The Dark Wizard in question had not been particularly skilled, but a well landed spell as soon as they entered the flat had sent Seamus flying into Hermione, knocking the wind from her lungs and the wand from her hand. Seamus was on his feet in an instant, at the time his muscles having been more expertly tuned than Hermione's, and was hurling hexes and curses at the Muggle-murderer. Hermione stayed on the floor, searching quickly for her wand, but before she could locate it, had heard the beginning of the killing curse slither past the wannabe Death Eater's lips. Without thought, the witch had leapt to her feet and grabbed a bronze candlestick from a side table, swinging it with all her might into the wizard's skull.
Seamus often remarked their fellow Aurors he hoped never to forget the sight of a pureblood wizard being bludgeoned over the head with a candlestick by the Great Swot of Gryffindor, as Seamus so lovingly addressed her. That year for Christmas, Hermione received nearly a dozen candlesticks in various sizes as gifts. Aurora tend to fancy themselves quite hilarious.
It was two hours following the altercation with the Dark Wizard, while filling out a report and listening to Savage's lecture on the importance of following procedures, that Hermione had realized that the confrontation was the first action she had seen since the Battle of Hogwarts. While undergoing her Auror training, Hermione had expected with much trepidation, that her first assignment in the field would be filled with anxiety and the cold dread that drained the blood from her body, heralding a panic attack. Instead, Hermione realized as she struggled not to chuckle at the look on Seamus's face as Savage recited the Auror Code of Conduct line by line, she felt calm and powerful and, for the first time in maybe years, in control.
The unease, the anxiety did not expire, but the episodes of irrational fear, Hermione discovered, did not manifest themselves during fights. Being in law enforcement, much like being in war, leaves no time to indulge in doubt or worry.
So it was with the unconscious steel of experience, that Hermione stepped out of the fireplace at the Potter's Cottage and into the fray.
Immediately Hermione noticed Remus dueling a silver masked wizard the hallway that adjoined the living room she had just entered, James was nowhere to be seen.
Death Eaters. She nearly spat.
The dark haired witch took a step forward to aid her lupine friend-or at least, friend in another life- but was forced to quickly cast a protego as a cruciatuswas hurled at her from a Death Eater to her right.
Damn, gloves are off apparently. Hermione thought to herself as she fended off two more crucios. Don't worry, mate, I can keep up.
Seamus had been Hermione's partner for the last three years and she had once overhead him telling Harry how surprised he was at Hermione's use of curses and hexes.
"Y'know," Harry had remarked. "She set Professor Snape's robes on fire first year."
"What!" Hermione had smiled at the shock in Seamus's voice.
"Yep, and kept Rita Skeeter in a jar during fourth year. Though I think technically that was kidnapping, so we should probably keep it on the down low."
"Incendio!" Hermione yelled, setting the Death Eater's robes aflame she quickly twisted around and flung a stupefy at the Death Eater dueling Remus. The werewolf turned and nodded his thanks at Hermione, his green eyes casting a weary glance at the wizard currently rolling on the floor attempting to set out the fire consuming his clothing. With a flick of her wrist Hermione put out the flames and stupefied the man, though she would have preferred to let him burn a little longer.
"Where's James?" Hermione demanded, searching the room with her amber eyes, as soon as the question escaped her lips, James's crazed voice echoed down the stairs and through the hallway, frantically calling Lily's name. Remus and Hermione locked eyes from across the room, exchanging a look of horror.
"STUPEFY!" From behind Hermione, the spell went flying towards a Death Eater who neither herself nor Remus had noticed jump out from behind a sofa. Hermione turned to see the furious grey eyes of Sirius Black, just appeared from the Floo, drilling down into her and she snorted in return.
"Thank for joining us." Hermione muttered, taking off towards the stairs, Remus hot at her heels.
The trio ascended the stairs two or three at a time, jostling with uncoordinated limbs for position as they dashed forward with single-minded purpose.
On the second floor of the cottage was a small hallway with three doors. James was howling and throwing himself at the middle door, his face was pale and contorted with panic, his eyes a frenzied mix of rage and hysteria. A Death Eater lay unbreathing on the floor beside him in a puddle of blood, but none of them paid the wizard any mind, because from behind the door could be heard the undeniable noise of a wizard's duel.
Remus and Sirius rushed at the door, flinging spells and fists at the unmoving wood. Whoever was in there with Lily must have warded and locked the room, trapping the witch inside.
"I can't get in, Godric I-I-can't get in, Lily! Lily!" James began to babble, continuing his useless onslaught against the door. Sirius and Remus looked at their friend and then at each other over his head of messy hair. "Alohomora! PORTABERTO! OPEN SESAME!"
The door remained unaffected.
"There has to be-" Sirius began but was interrupted by the searing alto of a woman's scream and a baby's cry.
"LILY! HARRY!" James yelled and slammed his shoulder into the door again.
They're not thinking, they're just flinging themselves and their magic against it. Finally coming back to herself after having been caught off guard by the wretched sight of James's terror, Hermione pushed the wizards aside and faced the door. Her confidence and aggression seemed to shock the three into compliance if only for a moment. "Out of the way!"
Hermione stared at the door.
Think, Granger. Fuck. Think think think think. Warded, warded, the door is warded. What wards could it be? Fuck. Spells aren't working. Stronger spell, stronger spell. Hermione grabbed her head and began tapping her finger furiously against her forehead as if she could summon the knowledge into her brain. Think think think.
"Get back." Sirius growled, shoving Hermione away from the door.
Oh, fuck no. The witch bared her teeth and used her hip to shove against Sirius's larger form, reasserting her position in front of the door with a feral snarl.
Lily was in there and if Lily was in there it stood to reason that Harry was with her and, baby or not, hallucination or not, Hermione Granger would be damned of Sirius-fucking-Black was going to keep her away from her best friend. She had spent years of her life protecting Harry, she had been unfailing in that task even under pain and torture. Sirius sure as fuck wasn't going to keep her from him and neither was this fucking locked-
Hermione's eyes grew wide, the passage of a not quite forgotten book flashing through her mind.
Alohomora, an unlocking spell of African origin, had been a vast and appreciated improvement on Portaberto, which, though effective at removing locks, tended to leave a smoldering hole in the door where once the lock had been. Thieves rejoiced and door-makers went into an unfortunate recession when Alohomora was brought into the European lexicon of spells in the 17th century by Eldon Elsrickle. The Unlocking Charm was improved upon further nearly one hundred years later by the noted thief, Wanda Furinis, with the inclusion of the simple Latin 'duo' added to the end of the spell.
"Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, chapter 54, page 1016." Hermione muttered under her breath.
"What the fuck-"
"ALOHOMORA DUO!"
With an unceremonious pop, the door handle turned and the door swung open. For not the first, nor probably the last, time that evening, the three Marauders stared with mouths agape at the bizarre dark haired witch that circumstances had delivered to them.
"A fucking gift." James muttered, rushing through the doorway wand first.
"STOP!" A voice screeched from inside the room and Hermione's heart stopped at the scene before her. "Or I will kill the boy."
Barty Crouch Jr, his silver mask half blown off his bloodied face, stood behind a white crib, while the auburn haired form of Lily Potter lay lifeless on the ground.
"LILY!" James screamed with a ferocity Hermione had never heard before and suspected she would never hear again, as the wizard flung himself and the Killing Curse at Crouch.
Laughing, Crouch deflected the curse and sent a curio at James, who fell to the floor with an unholy howl as his body tremors uncontrollably.
Rage cascaded through Hermione's blood in a primal flood, but before she could lift her wand Sirius threw a curse at Crouch, swiftly stepping between the Dark Wizard and his fallen friend. Remus was quick behind him and the two Marauders quickly began engaging the deranged Death Eater in a two on one duel.
"WHERE IS HE?" Crouch screeched wildly, his eyes flashing, the spells were coming at him too quickly and he was forced away from the crib and towards the wall by the advancing wizards. Hermione would worry about what those questions implied later, at present the Auror trained witch had recognized an opportunity. "WHERE IS THE DARK LORD? WHERE-"
Hermione flung a silencio at the deranged Death Eater and rushed towards the crib, set on pulling baby Harry from it and to safety, but she was a breath too late.
Seeing Hermione, Crouch raised his wand and a green bolt of light shot from the end of it towards the crib.
Without hesitation, and not for the first time, Hermione threw herself in front of her best friend.