Her eyes blinked open and she immediately closed them. The light was too bright. It was like her senses were on overdrive. The silence buzzed. Too many scents attacked her nose. Her skin felt raw and agitated.

Her stomach rolled and she took deep breaths through her mouth. She flexed her fingers. She could feel the ground beneath her, cold and hard pressing into her back.

Her head felt like it got hit with a bludger. Her magic was one step away from causing an accident. She reeled it in and opened her eyes once more.

She was met with seven figures looming over her prone form.

Panicking, she scrambled to her feet, pulled out her wand and backed away from the group of people. Her head protested this movement and her nausea returned full force. She ignored this as she sought out possible exits and assessed her opponents. Silently, she cast a protego around her.

A pompous man with a familiar face, two men with builds of seasoned aurors, two figures in unspeakable robes, and a startled couple.

She trained her wand between the aurors and unspeakables while she pondered over the familiarity of the pompous man.

"Who are you and why did you bring me here?" Her voice was hard. The tiredness she felt at Harry's place moments ago was gone and in its place was battle-ready adrenaline.

"This is Head Auror Shafiq and his trusted Auror Scott." The pompous man spoke, gesturing to each man who gave nods in her direction. Friendly. "Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries." They held up robed arms in an imitation of a wave. Not offensive. "And this lovely couple is Edwin and Margaret Lawson." They still seemed stunned, in shock. Non-combatants.

Hermione lowered her wand a fraction of an inch. She looked toward the man speaking to her, studying him.

"And I am the Minister of Magic, Hec-"

"Hector Fawley." Hermione said, eyes going wide as she recognized the man. She'd seen his portrait many times from her visits to Kingsley's office. "Elected in 1925 and was said to be a stark contrast from his predecessor. While he was more reserved and taciturn, Fawley was exuberant and flamboyant. As such, he was given the name Flamboyant Fawley in 1926 by the Daily Prophet when asked whether he was doing enough." She rambled off in her panic not noticing the smug look crossing the man's face as he shared a triumphant look with the disgusted Head Auror.

"Yes, well, we'll see if they think I'm doing enough now." He mumbled. Hermione didn't hear, she was breathing heavily, thinking over the implications of what all this means.

"How am I here? To- to go back in time?" She asked weakly. "What year is it?"

She looked around the room. The Lawsons looked heartbroken and she noticed tears running down the young woman's face. They couldn't be any older than she was. The aurors looked at her with pity and sympathy. She didn't understand.

One of the unspeakables stepped forward. Hermione stepped back. "It is December 5, 1926. We used a device to send you to the future and spelled it where you would return to us on your twenty-fifth year. For us, mere minutes ago, you were a baby in your mother's arms. But now, you are a grown woman who can help us with the coming conflict. Congratulations, you are the first successful time traveler."

Hermione kept backing up until her back hit the wall. Every sentence they just said hit her like a brick. She didn't know what to do. She heard pride in the unspeakable's voice. She was an expiriement. She looked to the Minister. She was a political tool. She looked to the aurors. She was a savior. She looked to the couple that she'd put together as her birth parents. She was nothing.

They were explaining about how they had paperwork there for her. Identification, wand permits, OWL and NEWT scores to fill in, Gringotts account information. She wasn't paying any attention.

She ran.

She threw open the door, breaking through the charms around the room was child's play. She ran through the corridors, blowing past people causing papers to fly and shocked exclamations to sound. She ignored the fashion of the people she passed. She heard people following her. She ran faster. Somehow she made it to the atrium and she nearly tripped when she saw the atrium and the old statue that stood there. She ran to the doors that would lead to out to London and threw them open.

She ran into the street and stopped looking all around her. Everything was different. Everything was wrong. She shivered. Her blue dress and light cardigan was no match for London in winter. The cars were old. She could see her breath. The buildings were ancient but they looked new. She only registered the tears on her face when they turned cold.

Eventually, they found her.

They placed a blanket around her shoulders and she clutched it like a lifeline. They led her back inside to the same office and sat her down in a hard chair. The unspeakables cast diagnostic charms and checked her over for any side effects or health concerns. They asked about the bandage on her shoulder and they all stared at the scar on her forearm. She didn't offer an explanation.

The aurors took care of the paperwork. This was the only time she spoke. She told them her name and birthday, blood status and Gringots information, occupation and test scores.

It didn't seem to matter. She was now Hermione Lawson. Pureblood. Born September 19, 1901. Highest test scores since Dumbledore. A respected investigative auror with international jurisdiction.

Her "parents" seemed heartbroken and her "mother" wouldn't stop crying. Hermione would be living with them and sharing their bank account.

She couldn't look at them.

She thought of her own parents. Her muggle dentist parents. She still had aurors out trying to find them in Australia. She didn't know if they ever would. Now she never will.

They never outright told her she was adopted. She sort of put it together on her own once she learned and read many books about genetics. It never seemed to matter. She loved her parents and they loved her.

They chose her. They didn't give her up.

She remembered asking them once about why she was named Hermione. They said they chose Hermione because they loved Shakespeare and Greek mythology. She supposes they actually did choose her, not necessarily her name.

Edwin and Margaret took her shopping. She doesn't remember leaving the office or the farewells from the others. She curled her hand around the doorknob of the store and pulled. Diagon Alley was as lively as ever and Hermione wanted out of the cold.

Edwin stayed off to the side. He chatted with the seamstress like old friends. Margaret hovered next to her pointing out latest styles and trends. Hermione ignored her and stuck to what she knew. What was familiar. Blouses and pants. Even if the slacks were higher wasted than what she normally wore. Margaret tried to point out dresses and hats and scarves, but Hermione wasn't interested. Margaret got them anyway attempting to smile. At least she wasn't crying anymore.

Hermione was about to leave the store and the tedious company when her eyes landed on a coat. It was long and the fabric was thick. It was heavy and had deep pockets. It was a deep maroon color with gold buttons. It was familiar. It was perfect.

At the counter Hermione had a small smile on her face.

"I told you she would be a Gryffindor." Edwin whispered to Margaret.

Hermione heard them, but she actually didn't mind.

Her room at their rather large cottage was alarmingly neutral. Edwin explained to her that they didn't want to assume anything about her preferences. He mentioned that they had a thought to let her choose what she wants and they would help her design it. He sounded hopeful.

Hermione knew they were trying, but it was too much too soon. She had only been in 1926 a handful of hours.

She told them she was tired and wanted to sleep.

They let her have her space.

Truthfully, she was tired, but she couldn't sleep.

The Lawson Cottage was lovely. Hermione resented that it was everything she thought she wanted in a house. She loved her flat, but whenever she decided to move into a house, she would have wanted this. A small kitchen, a library with a window nook, an office downstairs, bedrooms upstairs. A nursery.

Her room was clinical and cold. Dark woods contrasted with stark white. Her flat was lively with warm browns and creams. Books lying everywhere, finished tea cups littered every surface.

Out of everything it seemed a silly thing to cry over, but Hermione felt salty tears run down her cheeks.

She pressed her face harder into the white pillow and sobbed.

The Minister explained that their plan was for her to have gathered information about Grindelwald's campaign. They gave her enhancement potions. She was supposed to help them end the threat before it began.

They placed the weight of a war on her shoulders and expected her to help them.

This isn't her war. She already went through hers. She survived Voldemort. This isn't her fight. Things were getting better. She was doing good.

Eventually, she cried herself into an exhausted sleep. When she woke, the morning sun was shining through the white curtains and the smell of breakfast permeated the house. She got up and dressed for the day.

She made her way down the stairs and looked at the wedding photos that lined the wall. Margaret was beautiful and Edwin looked utterly besotted. Tentatively, she stepped into the dining room. Edwin and Margaret looked up as she entered. Edwin gestured to the plates of food on the table and Hermione gave him a quick smile of thanks. She filled her plate and the three ate in tense silence.

Hermione reached for her glass of water and Margaret gasped. Hermione paused and traced her eye line to the gold bracelet on her wrist. Hermione frowned at the reaction. She'd had it as long as she could remember. The gold plate had her first name on it in beautiful script.

"I gave that to you." Margaret breathed. "Before you left."

Hermione was stunned. She drank her water not knowing what to say. She placed her glass back on the table and met Margaret and Edwin's eyes.

"I don't know what you expect from me. Besides stopping Grindel-"

"No, we don't expect anything from you. Grindelwald is the Ministry's problem." Edwin spoke spearing a sausage.

"But it's yours too or you wouldn't have sent me away." Hermione said cooly, cocking her head to the side.

Margaret and Edwin looked down but didn't deny her. Hermione didn't know why she felt disappointed. She didn't know them. She took another bite of her eggs.

"We just want to get to know you." Margaret said eventually brushing her short curly hair behind her ear.

Hermione didn't say anything after that. They finished their breakfast.

It was only when they were standing up to clean that Hermione spoke again. "I'm going to visit Hogwarts today."

Edwin and Margaret shared a look before turning to her. For some reason that infuriated Hermione.

"I need something familiar. My entire life has been uprooted with no chance of getting it back." They both looked away. Hermione didn't care. "You ripped me away from my family, my friends, my life. I'm going to Hogwarts."

Hermione turned on her heel and went back to her room. She threw on her red coat and put her leather bag over her shoulder. She pulled out her wand and turned on the spot.

She didn't know what she'd thought she'd find. She walked the grounds. The whomping willow was not there. The Shrieking Shack hadn't been built yet. Hagrid's hut was gone.

She didn't dare venture into the castle and see different professors teaching in place of the ones she knew.

She sat down by a tree near the edge of the lake. She couldn't tell if the squid was there or not. It was snowing and the lake was frozen. Her cheeks her red and she was shivering. She wrapped her coat tighter around her.

She thought of everything in her life. Every person in her life. They were gone. Not permanently, it will all still happen. And isn't that the biggest joke?

When she was in her third year using the time turner, she researched time travel like mad. She soaked up everything she could. And most of that research came from after the 1920s. So there's no way the unspeakables could have possibly known that anything they do with a time turner, no matter what contraption they build with time turners, will be a loop. Nothing will change. History as Hermione knows it will go on as she knows it.

So she can't stop Grindelwald before Dumbledore confronts him in 1945. She can't go adopt little baby Tom Riddle next month and keep him from becoming Voldemort. She can't change that because what she does in that time will have already happened. No matter what she does now, it will become the past she learned about.

And she doesn't remember seeing Hermione Lawson in any of her history books.

"I do appreciate a view."

Hermione turned sharply seeing a tall wizard in a grey suit next to her looking out over the landscape. She quickly stood up.

"I've noticed you walking around the grounds and grew curious." The man said.

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Albus Dumbledore. Defense Against the Dark Arts professor here at Hogwarts."

Hermione was stunned. She hardly recognized the man she knew from her time at school. Harry's mentor. She attended his funeral. And here he is. Young, short beard, and in a suit rather than the robes he wore when she was a student.

"I do think it's customary that one would respond with their name in return." He teased lightly.

"Hermione Gr-Lawson." She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Well, Miss Lawson, perhaps you'd like to get out of the cold and have a cup of tea in my office."

She nodded, numbly.

As they walked, she kept sneaking glances over at the man trying to find evidence that connects him the man she knew. His eyes still held that same twinkle, but there's a heaviness to his shoulders that all too familiar and at the same time very different.

He pushed open the door of the classroom and led her up the stairs at the back. His office was quintessentially Dumbledore. It reminded her of his headmaster's office with all the contraptions and devices whirring and clicking. He poured them some tea and they sat back in their chairs. It warmed her better than any charm.

"I am acquainted with the Lawson family. Wonderful people, Edwin and Margaret, their parents too. Old family friends, you see. I taught them, Edwin was great at Defense and Margaret was better with Charms and Transfiguration." Hermione's smile grew brittle. "I'd think I would have remembered another Lawson that was about their age."

She stilled. Panic filled her.

"Margaret mentioned when we last spoke that she was expecting. A girl." Dumbledore smiled. "She was overjoyed and wanted to know what I thought of the name 'Hermione'."

Hermione placed her teacup back in the saucer and tried to ignore the way it shook.

"Don't look so frightened. She told me the plan, she told me why."

Hermione let out a breath of relief. Her shoulders relaxed.

"I hadn't spoke to her since because I didn't agree with her, what they planned to do. The Ministry wouldn't have let me know anyway."

Dumbledore smiled and to Hermione, even though he's so much younger and so different from what she knew, if felt like something from home.

"You've done well." He said. "Your life seems to have agreed with you."

She felt a few tears slip down her face. She hardly knew this man, but she trusted him. She told him everything. Everything she could at least. She didn't mention the war or the Hallows. Somehow he knew something had happened. She told him about her friends and family. All the headway she'd made in the ministry. Everything she'd done for her department. She told him about all the creatures she's helped and how much she enjoyed it. How she loved field work more than going up against the Wizengamot every other week.

She told him how betrayed and worthless and used she felt being there in 1926. How pointless it seemed. She told him about how out of control she felt.

And he listened and comforted. He told her that everything she'd been working toward when she left will still be there when she catches up. He told her that Edwin and Margaret weren't bad people for doing this and that the Ministry was desperate. He told her why they needed her. He told her that Grindelwald had made another move two nights ago.

"But why me?" She asked. Her tears dried long ago, the tea was cold.

"Because I can't." He said simply.

And Hermione remembered. She understood. They were close, Dumbledore and Grindelwald, maybe more than that. And she can feel that weight on his shoulders and she knows why it's different than it was in her time. They were silent for a long time.

"You mentioned your love of working with beasts. You remind me of someone." Before she could ask who, he continued. "I receive wizarding newspapers from all over the world. I have reason to believe that there is an obscurial in New York."

Hermione gasped. When she was first hired in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she was put on a field team to handle an obscurus. That one mission alone led to many different regulations on how an obscurus is dealt with and how magical children are protected. She cried for weeks afterward.

"I know in this time, you aren't part of that department anymore, but you do have international jurisdiction as an auror. I have no doubt you could be in New York by the end of the day."

"What are you playing at?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe you need something familiar. To help someone in need. An obscurus grows in the absence of love, as I'm sure you're aware. Love is the most powerful magic we know."

Gaining permission from the Ministry to take a portkey to New York was easy. Telling Margaret and Edwin was harder. In the end, they let her go. It wasn't like they had any sway over her decisions.

She thanked her past self for leaving her beaded bag in her leather one. She checked to make sure it was fully stocked. After this, she'll have to see about restocking some things. If she can even get some of it in this time period. She sighed and pulled a few outfits out carefully storing them in her leather bag.

She looked into the mirror above her vanity and checked her wound. It seemed to be healing well enough. It would definitely leave a scar. She doesn't mind the scars she gets doing her work, but this new mark is rather large and would gather a lot of attention. A chimera bite cauterized as it tears the flesh. The healing tissue is puffy and pink with black lines running through it. She put more murtlap essence on it and pulled her black blouse closed.

She smoothed her hands down her grey high wasted slacks, pulled on her red coat and threw her bag over her shoulder. She crept down the stairs and spotted Edwin and Margaret sitting on the sofa. Margaret was crying into Edwin's shoulder and he was whispering soothing words in her ear smoothing back her hair.

Hermione tried not to feel guilty. She didn't owe them anything.

She turned on the spot and landed in the ministry. She made her way to the portkey office and felt her usual excitement rise up. Officially, she was an envoy for the British investigation team. Madame Picquery wasn't happy the British were getting involved, but compromised with only sending in one operative.

Hermione smiled. Field work was familiar. She grabbed the old hat in front of her and spun away.