Review offering insight to the story:
"Alright, you wanted some helpful feedback - here it comes. I can, even after these first three chapters, that this will probably become one of the most/more original timetravel fics circled around Remus/Hermione I've read. Your writing is very "emotional", deep, and describing; you manage to capture feelings and surroundings of the situation very well, at the same time as you keep the reader feeling an underlying sense of something "big" being at work - Hermione's mission itself. The tone is grave and serious; not so it becomes too much or overbearing, but just perfect to capture the importance of every moment, every little detail, and every little second of what Hermione is doing. It is very captivating to read, and, as long as you somehow manage to keep the story going forwards, and changing, at the same time as you manage to keep that feeling without letting it get "too dark", I cannot see how this fic can possible turn out to be bad or a disappointment. That you have researched thouroughly before starting, shows that you take this seriously, and are not planning on abandoning it/deleting it. As a word of advice, I think that, considering you're dealing with time travel, that you make up some sort of plan/schedule for the more important/finer points/events that you must add to the plot/story, and, if you haven't done so already, think ahead. Plan ahead, so you have something to write towards (and, having an actual ending planned and written down is something I highly recommend), otherwise, the risk of becoming bored as an author, or having the fic "run away from you", is quite likely, espescially since I can sense this will be a long one! Best of luck in your writing!" - LadyVisionary of FanFiction net.
Thank so much to the following reviewers: Hotkat144, sln1987, Shannon, hawkeyehellsing, Dizi 85, Black-Rose23, bethygirl94, lave en fusion, Ellie Remy Lupin, draculasbride2008, MasqueraderNumberOne, Cody, Angelic Bladez, Suzy87and especially NZgnomegirl, LadyVisionary, and galloping-goose (Zeus)
The Werewolf Tamer
Three
Albus Dumbledore was working late in his office, sighing with distress over the lack of DADA professor for the coming year. The former professor, an older man who had devoted a good amount of his teaching career to Dumbledore had retired quite suddenly and Albus was left looking through the qualifications of many good witches and wizards who wanted the position. He had but a few days to set it up however, and he was wary of who to employ. Times were dangerous and the teachings in the DADA class would surely keep the innocents inside his school safe from peril. With a sketchy war sitting on the brink of exploding in the Wizarding world, Dumbledore had to be especially wary of most things that happened as of late. Besides his skepticism however, he felt a sense of need to wait.
He felt rather than heard the new presence. Like a whispering shudder, a ripple through time opened, and he could feel it right down to his very bones. He gave a heavy sigh and wondered if this new and most unexpected arrival would be for or against his position in the coming events. He dearly hoped, given that time travel could only be done my someone severely powerful and knowledgeable, that the witch or wizard was against Voldemort. He waited patiently in his office, somehow knowing that he or she would come to him. He shuffled the papers in front of him, tapping his chin as he once again questioned the credentials of Avery Sr., feeling that familiar distaste for the man and knowing it would be a bad decision. Placing it on the pile he dubbed 'unsuitable,' Albus moved onto another.
When he heard his stairs react to a visitor, he wasn't sure if he should be worried or comforted. It was a familiar notion that his passwords revolved around sweets, and so it was likely that it was someone who must know him, in some way. Of course, it was also quite possible that the person coming to see him had done his or her research and was on their way to finish Albus off for good. His wand was placed beneath his palm while he sat forward in his chair, waiting for his guest to join him. He stared at the door to his office, his face rather tranquil while his mind was a buzz with curiosity. This was quite certainly a very important event. Someone, be them from past or future, had thought it vital to come to this year, meaning that there was some sort of significance, of course.
His door opened to reveal a disgruntled young woman. She was dressed, neck to toes in dramatic black robes which were left open in the front, to reveal her all black attire. Her wand was held in her hand, though she didn't lift it or even give him the faintest notion that she might. She walked forward, not even greeting him, with her trunk hovering and following her inside. Her thick boots made a loud clomping noise, but it could've been from the silence of the room, rather than their heavy appearance. She was quite beautiful, whoever she was. Not in a classical beauty sort of way, but more of a natural sense. Her hair fell down in waves, reaching to her slim waist in a waterfall of thick curls. Her face, though young and sweet, held a ferocious edge to it that nearly made Albus sit back with recognition. Sweet and young she may first appear, but it was obvious that her soul and knowledge went far beyond age. And her eyes, so void and empty they were that Albus felt that familiar need to comfort her and tell her that all would get better.
"Headmaster," she greeted faintly, her eyes pinning him to his seat. He tried Leglimency on her, in hopes that perhaps he could learn of her allegiance that way, but quickly found himself staring at a brick wall. Her shields were strong and very much in place, and he had to admit that they were quite impressive. For someone who couldn't be too far into her twenties, she seemed to possess an ability in areas most didn't. There was experience in both her stance and her eyes, familiarity in her short smile, and trust radiating from her cold eyes. Whoever she was, Albus knew, she would be vital to the days and years ahead of them. She had come for a cause, and it wasn't in favor of Voldemort. He felt inexplicably cheery for a moment and let himself relish, if only for a few seconds, in the fact that he had in front of him a very capable and strong witch, one who quite plainly hated Voldemort, he could see that right away.
"Good evening, Mrs..." he trailed off, catching the glint of her wedding band and waiting for her to fill him in on her identity.
She hesitated, staring at him a long moment. "I go many names," she told him, faintly. "You may call me Hermione."
"Hermione it is then," he replied, a small, questioning smile tugging at his mouth. "And what may I do for you, Hermione, at this late hour?"
She leaned forward, resting her hands on her knee as her legs crossed tightly. Her wand was still held tightly in her grasp, though not directed at him, and he wondered if it was there as a precaution. He questioned what she had been through in her time and couldn't help the swell of wonder over the young woman who sat before him. She held a regal sort of air, nearly snotty, but more of a commanding presence than anything else. The directness of her gaze meant nobody would consider deceiving her, not to her face. And even though she was a small slip of a thing, he could feel the power radiating off of her in waves. It was almost overwhelming, though he schooled his features quite well.
"I believe I'll need your help for much longer than a night," she admitted before taking one heavy breath in preparation. "I've come to redirect the future," she told him, her voice soft and uncertain. She was sure about what she was doing, he could tell that. He could also tell that her decision would not be swayed. It was his reaction that had her worried, and he couldn't help but think she had right to be. The words she had spoken, the meaning behind them, why it was all so very large scale that he wondered if she truly knew what she set out to do. Time is fragile and tampering with it could mean dire consequences. He could see from the set of her jaw that she had already been told so though, and he couldn't help but wonder what she could tell him and why her help was needed.
"Hermione," he began, in his most understanding voice, "the future is--"
"Sir," she interrupted, her lips pursed for a second, "Perhaps I should first warn you that I know all about tampering with time. It was you who gave me a time-turner in my third year and you explained to me the repercussions of my every action. Now, I know what I've done and I know what I'm here to do is all quite dangerous and unstable. But understand me clearly sir, when I say that nothing you can say will change my mind on the matter. Going back to my time is not possible, changing this one however, is. And believe me, Headmaster, when I say that you would agree it needed to be changed were you alive to see what the future holds," she told him, her tone sharp but rather coaxing.
He took a moment to gather the fact that he was dead in her time. She obviously had time to know him and he wondered if it was age that did him in, though he was almost certain it was the events that caused her to come back. Not his death alone of course, for he must have died along with a great deal of others. Her eyes spoke wonders of death and destruction and he really wasn't sure he even needed Leglimency to learn certain things about the intriguing woman in front of him. "I do not mean to deter you, exactly," he told her, with a great sigh. "However, my dear, you must realize that when someone arrives in a time that is not theirs, a great deal of problems can arise."
"I realize that," she agreed, giving a short nod. "I don't plan to tell the world where I'm from though. And I don't expect everyone to bow to my will just because I happen to have the entire future locked away in my mind. What I need, and I say need because it is quite a necessity, is access to you, the Marauders, and Lily P- Evans," she quickly corrected herself. "Through you, I hope to gain access to the Order, too," she added, and Albus almost allowed his eyes to bulge but quickly cut the reaction short. The Order of the Phoenix was quite new and he was surprised, especially for her young years, that she was a part of the well hidden and secret organization. "Yes, Headmaster, I know of the Order. In fact, in my time, I was running it for awhile."
"Really?" he asked, quite surprised.
She hesitated for just a moment, but then told him, "After your death at the end of my sixth year, it was headed by McGonagall and another member that I'd rather not name just yet. After I finished by seventh year however, it was then headed by me and my two best friends. The reason sir, that three newly graduated students were heading the Order is because one of us was destined to destroy Voldemort," she informed him and he couldn't help the way he leaned forward to hear more, even though his intelligent mind told him she was already saying things the Time Laws were deathly against. "We headed it together for three years. Unfortunately," she paused, and her eyes turned off, though clearly radiating a deep pain that tore at his own heart, "in the event of Harry's death, he was the boy expected to save the world, you see," she said, quietly, "Ron and I, we were who took over from then on. And then three years later, just eight months ago in my time," she told him, her voice taking a sorrowful turn, "Ron too was taken. So I was left as the last one to lead it," she informed him, "though I abdicated my title two months ago."
"Why?" he wondered, his brows raising with question.
She swallowed hard, her eyes falling and her shaking hand disappearing into her shirt to pull out her necklace. Hanging from the end was a wedding band that matched the one winking on her hand. "My death was high on Voldemort's list and though he was currently in hiding, trying to regather his strength after his battle with Harry three years prior, he was sending his Death Eater's out often, to cause fear and remind everyone who had won." She swallowed, her eyes taking on a glazed over edge. "It seemed whenever we left home," she said, her fingers delicately turning her ring over with memories, "there was another attack on us. We were careful, vigilant, and we always made it away. Until... until that one day and she..." The young woman shook her head, "I'm afraid I lost too many and the Order wasn't..." she broke off, shaking her head, before suddenly lifting her head and schooling her face, the ring falling from her fingers. "Headmistress McGonagall took over from then, I'm sure."
He too understood the despair that came along with war and the loss that follows a person for the rest of their lives. He knew though, that to tell her this would only cause her more pain. She did not want understanding or somebody to tell her they feel the same way, because her pain was her own. He did not know the future, he did not really know her, but he knew that whatever her loss was, it was great. Perhaps there wasn't even a number for it and that thoroughly scared him. How horrible could the future be that she had to change it? She had admitted to him that this Harry fellow did not win, though he was destined to destroy Voldemort, what did that mean? "Hermione, will you please explain to me your meaning in Harry being destined to win against Voldemort?" he asked.
"There was a prophecy," she informed him and he stilled, staring at her with a questioning, worried gaze. "I don't know if you've heard it yet, or if you are waiting to, but in it, it states, 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh months dies.' Harry was born July 31st, with only one other child born at the end of the month. Voldemort goes after Harry and after killing his parents, and then turns his wand on the one year old baby. Using the Avada curse, he hoped to destroy Harry, his only possible adversary. But when the curse hit the baby, it rebounded and instead caused a..." she furrowed her brow, "an odd occurrence to Voldemort. He didn't die, not exactly, but he was drained of nearly everything. He wasn't really human after that and it took him a great deal of time before he was able to gain his power back."
She paused, allowing Dumbledore time to absorb it all. He took a deep breath, thinking of all that would happen. A baby defeating both Voldemort and the Killing curse. It was too unimaginable to think of and yet... somehow he knew it was true. He could think this Hermione woman to be a sham, to be lying in order to gain his cooperation, or even to be in lead with Voldemort, and trying to wrap Dumbledore around her finger. However, deep down, he knew. This future, it was both bright and dark. Voldemort could be defeated, would be, at least once. How long that peace would last, he didn't know, yet... He turned back to Hermione, nodding for her to continue.
She nodded back, her expression grim. "He didn't come after Harry again until his first year here at Hogwarts, hidden on the back of a professor's head. He was after the sorcerer's stone, which you had hidden in the school shortly before a break in at Gringotts. He attacked again in second year, though he was in the form of a memory, as his former self, Tom Riddle. He was hidden in the Chamber of Secrets, which I should inform you that Hagrid did not open. Muggleborn's were being attacked by a Basilisk that was traveling the school through the pipes and such. Harry battled it, killed it and destroyed the Horcrux journal that brought forth Tom Riddle."
She sighed, sounding weary with the recount, "Then again in fourth year Voldemort attacked, where he gained Harry's blood enough to give him a real body, because he wasn't quite complete yet. Harry escaped then too, though another boy's life was needlessly taken. That was all during the time of the TriWizard tournament where Harry's name was somehow submitted, which we later found Professor Moody had done, though it was actually Barty Crouch Jr. using Polyjuice potion to disguise himself."
Shaking her head, she continued, "Harry met Voldemort again in fifth year at the Department of Mysteries. The DA, that's a DADA group Harry started, was called forth, though only two besides myself and Ron came to help Harry because he had a nightmare that his godfather was being taken to the Department. He wasn't. Voldemort implanted the memory to draw him out. Harry's godfather heard of it though, and he left his hideout to come to Harry's aid. Numerous Death Eater's were found out and Voldemort battled both you and Harry. We lost Harry's godfather to the Veil," she finished, looking reminiscently mournful.
She paused for a moment and then gathered up her voice and continued on her tale, "In our sixth year, Voldemort caused havoc through a student. Two students were harmed, though their attacks were supposed to be aimed at you. Your death came at the end of the year, taken by a man you thought was loyal to you." She shook her head, her lips pursed and he wondered if she were going to cry. She looked quite heartbroken and he wondered how close he was to the young woman in the future. Given how often she was in the thick of it with this young Harry fellow, he had no doubt he must have known her quite well.
She swallowed loudly and gained her composure. "In our seventh year, however, our problem was staying alive while hunting for Voldemort's Horcruxes," she gave a short nod when he gasped quietly, "And for the three years leading up to the Final Battle, we didn't meet Voldemort, but his Death Eater's at every chance. Throughout those years, we gained the trust and strength of the Order, various Auror's and students, but never the Ministry," she admitted, shaking her head and scowling. "Two Minister's later and we still hadn't gained their support, they refused to admit that Voldemort was back, and instead set out to ruin the reputation of both you and Harry."
She grimaced, her jaw clenching for a moment. "The Battle ran in our favor up until the very end. We were almost all wizards and witches, though I had my packs with me," she told him, and when she caught his furrowed brow of confusion, she sighed, "My werewolf packs," she explained, and his eyes widened before looking out the window to see the large, full moon.
"I'm not a werewolf, Headmaster," she told him, shaking her head softly. "No, my husband was and shortly after I finished my seventh year, he and I started an organization called The Lup--" She cleared her throat, glancing at him fleetingly over her folly, "The Werewolf Project. It was designed to tame werewolves on the full moon." She held her hand up when he tried to interrupt. "There is a potion called Wolfsbane that has not yet been created in this time. In my time however, it was able to give werewolves back their senses. They would still be the wolf, but they would retain their human thought process. It was wearing off though, not working on those who had been using it for long periods of time. Voldemort had the clans on his side, because the Ministry and society had ostracized werewolves, calling them monsters, creatures, inhuman," she spat, annoyed. "I thought, if I could give the werewolves an opportunity for equality, they would change sides. The only reason they were with Voldemort was because he gave them the notion that they would be free if he won. I gave them the chance to really be free."
"And it worked?" he asked, anxiously intrigued.
"Yes," she replied, and for one moment, she looked quite happy. It was a drastic change in her appearance, and she radiated with warmth. He found himself nearly smiling, even after all that he heard. She had such a presence. "Clans came from all over and for six years, my husband and I watched their process. You see, we couldn't take them off the Wolfsbane potion right away, that would be suicide. No, we gave them half the potion, so they would be half and half. They'd understand who we are and be able to remember their actions, but they'd also act like a werewolf would. We learned how to talk to them," she told him, her eyes shimmering with excitement. "Can you imagine, Headmaster? Nobody would have any reason to be afraid, as long as we know how to speak to tell them that we are not a danger to them, for they only truly attack humans because of the fear that the human would attack and kill them, then we can all live in peace." She smiled briefly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "My packs were very loyal to me and my husband. We made serious dents in Voldemort's ranks. And our packs came with us during the Last Battle," she told him, her eyes turning far off in memory.
He waited for her to continue, noticing right away that it would surely be a sorrowful tale.
"It was a long and grueling battle, but we had high hopes and expectations that it would surely be our victory. After all, Voldemort was missing six pieces of his soul and surely weakened by that. And Harry was strong, powerful," she told him, sounding proud and fond. "They faced in the middle of the field, while everyone raged around them. Trolls, giants, werewolves, vampires, witches, and wizards. We lost many; more than I could ever think to count. Friends, family, mentors," she told him, sadly. "But Harry met him fiercely, ready to destroy him, confident in the fact that he was destined to do it to save the world, save his family and his friends." She shook her head, eyes filling but no tears falling. Her jaw shook, but she ignored it to continue speaking, "Harry had the upper hand and Voldemort was quickly weakening. Even his followers could see that and they were slowly retreating." She swallowed, her eyes closing for a moment, shaking her head slowly. "Harry was grinning, he truly looked like he was about to win us our victory, until..." She sighed, letting out a shaky, emotion breath. "His wife was nearby, she was battling fiercely with a Death Eater when the Killing curse hurled her way. She didn't even see it coming, but Harry did," she told him, quietly. "He couldn't get to her, but he saw her fall. He abandoned his fight with Voldemort and went straight to her. She was... she was everything to Harry. He had pleaded with her not to go to the Battle, knowing that the Death Eater's would be out to destroy all he cherished. But she refused to stay home, and she was a strong fighter, so..." Her jaw twitched as she clenched it tight as she inhaled a large, calming breath, her eyes raising to meet Albus'. Such pain sat in the depths of her dark brown eyes, clear and cutting. "He died holding his wife, sobbing against her. Voldemort shot the curse at his back, the coward," she snarled. She shook her head, "Voldemort was drained after that, weakened beyond measure. He shouted his victory and apparated away to regain his power, which he still hadn't gathered back completely three years later. I refused to allow us to lay down in acceptance. I... I told them not to give up and I continued to fight. Our side put a huge dent in his Death Eater's before they all began apparating away in retreat."
Albus shook his head at her recollection, feeling defeat and sorrow in her words. The only boy with the ability to defeat Voldemort, and he was killed for loving his wife. In a proper battle, were Tom Riddle a worthy opponent, he would not kill a man whose back was turned. It was cowardly and held no real victory in it. Albus did feel a small happiness at the fact that the good side did not just accept defeat though, and was gladdened to hear that they continued to fight the good fight for years to come. "Hermione," he said, quietly, "if I may be so bold to ask, if Harry's death and Voldemort's victory is the reason you return, why then did it take you three years to accomplish?" he queried.
"Returning took me one day," she told him, shaking her head. "In fact, I only got the idea late last night. And Harry is not the sole reason I returned, but one of many. After I lost my husband," she said quietly, her pain so desperately evident, "I was bent on killing his murderer. I dueled her yesterday and neither of us came out the winner. When I returned home, two of my werewolf friends put me to bed and another called on Madame Pomfrey to aid my injuries. My friends fought though, one wanted me to move on and look to a brighter future, the other thought I should grieve as long as it took. They didn't agree with my need for vengeance though, and were worried about the way I left everything behind. I was no longer part of the Order, though they continued to hound me into coming back. I was hardly ever seen in the Wizarding world, unless my husband's killer had been spotted. I spent my time at home, hardly sleeping, eating little, and speaking to hardly anyone. The Wizarding world was crying out to see me, and I was too consumed with hatred to go back."
She frowned, "In my time, being the last of the trio, I was considered everyone's last hope." She shook her head, looking forlorn, "They looked to me to save the future and rectify the death of Harry and all others. The Order and society named me the Witch-Of-Hope. My husband always told me that he believed if anyone could save the world it was me, and that together we would. He told me that I instilled hope in others and that the world needed it if we were ever going to save it." She swallowed, looking down at her hands for a moment. "With him gone I had no hope anymore. I had nobody but my clans, and while they were loyal and I cared for them, I couldn't... I couldn't be what they wanted me to be. Not without him." She took a moment and Albus wondered if he knew the young man that meant so much to the woman before him. He noticed she didn't say his name and wondered if that was because it hurt her, or if it could possibly be someone important to this time or near it. He didn't know what year she was from though, so he couldn't figure out a timeline just yet.
She sighed, lifting her shoulders. "Things have been going wrong since the day I set foot in the Wizarding world. I've lost my parents, mentors, my friends, and my husband. And most of that happened in the last three years. It's not supposed to be this way," she told him, shaking her head and staring at him seriously. "Harry was supposed to defeat Voldemort and the world was supposed to get better. If he wasn't destined to win, then I cannot and will not believe that Voldemort was supposed to."
He agreed, he couldn't believe that Tom was supposed to win. It just wasn't right. Good triumphs over evil, and therefore, Voldemort should have been destroyed. Given a little more time, possibly to gather his anger over his death's wife, maybe he would have killed Voldemort. He wasn't given the chance however, instead killed without his knowledge of the attack. A hero killed by a coward. How wrong it was.
Hermione's jaw clenched and she closed her eyes for a moment. "When I found the book that told me how to change the past, it gave me a hope that seemed lost. I can change it. All that truly mattered. I can save Harry's parents and countless others. I can give Harry the life he didn't have, one where he had his real parents, and not an aunt and uncle who despised him. I can save Harry's godfather, not only from being blamed for Harry's parents deaths, which he had no part in, and going to Azkaban for thirteen years, but from death. And I can save my husband, I can save him a lifetime of pain." She looked so wonderfully pleased by the world she painted and he had to admit, though he didn't really know the people involved, the idea was grand and beautiful to hear of. "And I will, Headmaster. Whether you wish to help me or not, whether you think to deter me from my plan. Know this, and know it well, my task will be completed and the future as I know it will never come to pass," she told him, passionately.
"My dear, the future you speak of sounds... repulsive," he told her, nodding slowly and stroking his beard with his hand thoughtfully. "I must admit to you that my scholarly mind tells me that this is a fool's errand and can't be done, however," he added, seeing the defiant and angered look on her face, "my heart tells me that in a world of magic, sometimes what we believe is truly not all that it seems. Therefore, knowing that you come here only to help and aid us in our actions against Voldemort, I must offer you my assistance in all that you plan to do."
She smiled, genuinely, and nodded at him. The pain was still beaming out of her eyes, but he could see that he had truly made her happy, if only for that moment. "Thank you, Headmaster."
"Please, Hermione, call me Albus," he told her with a friendly smile.
Her eyes brightened with surprise, "Albus, then," she agreed. She rose from her seat, her trunk lifting without her saying a word, but a simple turn of her wand. "I best be off. I'll be staying at the Leaky Cauldron if you need to call on me. After that though, I'll be searching for somewhere to stay. I'll send word when I've found a safe place, and of course, when you need to know of something vital to the lives of those around you," she told him. She paused for a moment, "Gideon and Fabian Prewett," she said, cautiously, looking at him with question.
"They'll be at the next Order meeting, if you're inclined to meet them," he told her.
She nodded slowly, before saying, "I'm afraid I haven't asked, but what is the date. You see, I know what date I want it to be, however I never thought to see if it happened as such."
"August 25th, 1976," he told her, noting that she looked quite pleased. He glanced down, his papers speaking of various capable witches and wizards for the job he had to fill waiting. "Hermione, may I ask how old you are?" he wondered, looking up at her curiously.
"Twenty three, sir," she replied, questioningly.
"I see, and what were your grades like when you attended Hogwarts?" he queried.
She blushed lightly, her eyes sparkling, "I received top grades throughout my years at Hogwarts. Twelve O.W.L.'s greeted me upon graduation," she assured, looking partly pleased, and partly embarrassed.
"Wonderful," he praised, feeling quite happy by her assertion. "And d'you have records of such feats?" he wondered, hoping he wasn't offending her.
She nodded slowly, moving to her trunk and beginning to search through it for her records. "I brought them along to prove what year I attended and that, obviously, I wasn't some sort of nutter. Plus, you wouldn't recognize me and likely be quite confused as to my familiarity with you," she told him from the depths of her trunk as she searched diligently. "Ah!" she exclaimed, suddenly reappearing, her records in her hands. She walked toward him, one of her hands reaching out to push an unruly curl from her face. Her arm outstretched, parchment holding her grades waiting for his reflection.
Taking them, he rearranged his moon shaped glasses to sit lower on his nose for better reading and looked over the remarkable grades of the young woman before him. Noting that her grades in DADA were quite high too, and smiled hopefully before looking up at her. "You're skilled in DADA then?" he wondered.
"Yes," she said slowly, her brow furrowing. "Harry trained me outside of classes, too. He's magnificent in DADA," she praised, and he got the feeling that such words meant something very important. She didn't seem the type to over embellish. "My husband too, was a great teacher in that position. In fact, he taught here at Hogwarts for a time, before he was forced out because of his... affliction," she said the word with distaste and he was pleased to see that she felt being a werewolf was not a curse, but a part of a person. "I was also an Auror, I'm not sure if I told you or not," she amended. "So I'm well skilled in the area, along with many others." She spoke with a small note of discomfort. He noticed she was proud of her grades, but didn't appear to like speaking of them. Humble, he decided. Or perhaps, like many hard working students he'd known, she wasn't comfortable admitting how much time she spent in the library working for her grades.
He nodded at her, "The reason I ask, my dear, is that currently, I am without a DADA professor," he explained, staring up at her with hope. "Now, in front of me I have a good stack of people vying for the position, but with times such as these, I fear that I may employ somebody who wouldn't have the student's best interests at heart. I realize," he said, nodding at her, "that I could simply ask you who I employ and if they work out, but I'd rather employ you if you'd like. This would not only solve my problem but certainly offer you assistance. Seeing as you wanted to be close to me, the Order, the Marauders, and Miss Evans," he reminded. "I can offer you some time to think about it, but not much. The school year begins soon and--"
"Yes," she interrupted, her eyes sparking just slightly. "It would be an honor Headm-- Albus," she corrected, smiling briefly, "to teach the students here."
"Wonderful," he agreed, rising from his seat. "You won't have much time to prepare I'm afraid, though I'm sure with your grades, you'll be able to teach the class quite well." Rounding his desk, he handed her her grade sheets and placed a friendly hand on her shoulder. "There is also another matter I'd quite like to speak with you about." He motioned to the door for them to leave, "We can talk while I show you to your chambers," he explained.
Nodding, the young woman followed him out of the office, her trunk hovering behind them. She looked up at Albus, waiting for him to continue and he was struck once more with both the familiarity in her eyes and the darkness in the gaze. He felt a shard of worry pierce his heart. He knew her to be a good woman, one who would surely help the right cause, but she was suffering dearly. She looked tired too, and he remembered how she had spoken of a lack of sleep and eating rarely. With a heavy inward sigh, he realized that while Hermione had come to save them all, there was nobody to save her. He was reminded of the subject he had hoped to broach with her and thought back to how she had become quite animated in her speech as she spoke of her project with her husband.
"There is a student that resides here at Hogwarts, Hermione, and he, like your husband, is afflicted during the full moon," he told her, noticing that her lips curved for a moment on one side, almost a smile.
"Remus Lupin, werewolf since he was a small boy," she told him, and he felt his eyes widen at her knowledge of him. "Yes, I met him recently," she told him, nodding her head to a window as they passed through a hallway. "He was with the Marauders, enjoying a jaunt in the forest, I believe," she told him, sounding almost amused.
"You met him," he said surprised, and had to stop himself from querying as to whether she came to be harmed at all. He had to remember that she worked with werewolves, with great conclusions he might add.
"Yes, actually I arrived right in front of him," she offered, glancing up with a look of both genuine pain and excited familiarity.
"Did you know Mr. Lupin then, in your time?" he asked curiously.
"Very well," she said, softly. "He was my first subject during the project. And I was quite happy to see that he still acts in werewolf form now as he does then. Same actions, same sounds, and it was beyond easy to speak to him. Calming him down was actually easier than I had expected and he took a liking to me very quickly. His human form won't remember me, I know, but the wolf will," she told him, giving a nod of certainty.
He smiled at her, "Good. Very good. In fact, Mr. Lupin was the reason I wanted to speak to you. You said there was a potion that could help him... Wolfsbane," he said, remembering the conversation about the project.
"Yes, but it wears out after a time. From what I can tell, the werewolf blood eventually creates an antigen to fight off the potion. It doesn't suddenly stop working, but it loses its effect over time," she explained. "However, I'm hoping to start my project before anybody can think to make the Wolfsbane potion. I can, of course, administer it to Remus, if he'd like, but I'd much rather give him the opportunity to learn the in's and out's of my project. You see, if I can, I'd like to change the view on the stereotypes society places on werewolves. It's not right and they deserve their freedom as much as anyone else. Why, Remus is one of your best students, and when he leaves school, he won't be able to get a job that he deserves. He'll be forced into doing odds and ends, never able to make an honest man's living, just because people see him as something to be afraid of one night of the month!" she told him heatedly.
"I agree," Albus replied, nodding sagely. "I believe Remus would be quite agreeable also, which is why I think it would be nice if perhaps you could speak to him about it. Tomorrow maybe," he offered, looking down at her imploringly, "As you've noticed, he spends these nights on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, near or at the Shrieking Shack. It's safer and his friends can bring him to Poppy if he's hurt himself, which he still tends to do, being so reckless in that state. He's also very tired, and--" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "I believe you know of everything I speak of, since you are, after all, a woman who works with werewolves as a career."
She gave him a soft smile, "Hermione the Werewolf Tamer," she said, quietly.
They stopped outside of a large portrait, where Albus couldn't help but grin, as a spunky wolf ran rampantly around a glorious field. A full moon sat high in the portrait, surrounded by shimmering stars. The wolf hopped up on a rock ledge and howled up at the gleaming yellow orb, before turning to Hermione and Albus and panting in wait for the password.
"Lupesc," he told it, smiling. He noticed Hermione's smile and knew that she had noticed the Romanian word for "wolf's". "I believe this room is quite suitable, don't you?" he asked, as the wolf portrait opened for her.
She nodded agreeably, walking through and motioning her trunk to rest near the hearth. "I will go to the Hospital Wing to see to Remus tomorrow," she agreed, nodding.
"Splendid," he replied, stepping forward, feeling as though he had a million questions and was a small child, begging his mother for attention.
She walked to him, her eyes sparking with fondness. "You are quite young compared to when I know you," she told him, quietly. "And I must admit, I've missed you so. You can't know it or feel it yourself, but you were very much a mentor to me growing up. In fact, I believed you weren't able to make mistakes," she said, a small hiccup coming out in her shaking voice of memories.
"I wish, dear, that I had such memories of you," he told her, honestly, feeling a grandfatherly urge to become the young woman's protector and guardian.
She sighed, nodding agreeably. "You and Harry were very close, much closer than you and me. He idolized you, thought the world of you really. He never let anybody speak ill of you and was more angry about what was being said in the papers and by the Ministry on your behalf rather than his own. You see, you were the reason he no longer had to stay with his aunt and uncle. You gave him his freedom and, besides Hagrid, you were the first to really tell him of the parents he lost. When you died, Harry was a true mess. He never forgot you, and he fought for your memory for the rest of the days of his life. Yours and many others," she told him, shaking her head slowly as her eyes turned off in reflection.
He considered her words greatly, realizing that while he was very fond of being a Headmaster and had never taken anything less seriously and to heart, he hadn't ever taken the time to really know any of his students as much as she spoke of him with Harry. He had a friendly acquaintanceship with most those who passed his school, if only to keep things professional. There was also the added reminder that he had been through war, and knew of what loss would be like. To know these students, only to lose them in future would be quite painful. But then, to never know them could be just as hard, couldn't it? Whatever his relation with Harry, it must have been close to him as well, and it must have pained him to die, knowing he was leaving someone behind who dearly needed his guidance.
He turned to her, speaking with an air of hope, "In the future, I will meet this Harry you speak of, and I hope to have the same close friendship that you have told me of. It is in our friendships and our guidance of others, that we learn of who we truly are and where we stand in the world. The people around us, shape us. Not always for the good, but not always for the bad either."
She nodded, taking his words to heart by the way her eyes thinned just slightly. "Yes, you will know him and you will love him," she decided, her tone so firm, it was as though she were giving him an order rather than an assertion.
He laughed lightly, liking her already. She was smart, welcoming, friendly and quite spirited. Even with the weight of the world on her shoulders and a pain deep in her heart, she had an air about her that captivated people, he could tell. "Well, the hour is late, and I'm sure you are tired from your journey. Tomorrow, after meeting Mr. Lupin, I hope to speak to you more about your classes and perhaps... of your future here, in both the Order and the Wizarding world itself," he encouraged.
"That sounds lovely," she agreed. "Have the other professors arrived yet?"
"Professor McGonagall will be arriving tomorrow afternoon, she's the transfiguration professor. She was away visiting family, otherwise she spends most of the year here. The potions master, Professor Slughorn, won't be back until early August 31st. He created himself a group called The Slug Club, which he opens to all Houses, all years, and all ancestries. The only requirement is that the student be powerful, successful, or well-connected. It's a mite rude in that way." He frowned for a moment, and noticed she too wasn't very enamored with Slughorn's group.
"Charms is taught by Professor Hilaris, who's a very kind and exquisitely cheerful woman. She's at least twice your age and will no doubt act like a doting mother on you," he told her, smiling warmly. "Our Herbology teacher, Professor Sero, is quite forgetful about most things that don't involve the information on his plants. In fact, he's usually a little late in showing up. So he might not arrive until the welcoming feast. Let's see, who do we have left... Oh yes, the Arithmancy professor, Socors, and the History of Magic professor, Binns, are here now. He's a rather hard man to get along with and doesn't spend any time in the school if it's unneeded. Professor Binns is a ghost, so he doesn't actually leave, you see." He gave a short laugh, "Well, it's likely he taught you, so I don't believe I need to explain. Who else," he said, tapping his chin, "Well, the Divination professor, Laneus, wrote me a post saying that it would unwise of him to return as it is not in the stars until tomorrow evening." She scoffed, shaking her head at it. "Not a Divination fan?" he queried
She shook her head, "It's a rather woolly subject, if you ask me," she told him with a short nod.
"Ah," he said, smiling lightly and nodding. He continued on with his list of who was and wasn't attending the school, noticing her nod every once in awhile and a small frown at the Care of Magical Creatures professor. "Did you know Kettleburn?" he wondered.
"Only in passing. He retired after my second year and Hagrid took over," she informed him, looking rather sad for the half giant currently residing on the property as the Grounds Keeper. "While he tended to bring very dangerous animals to class and always thought they were the safest of creatures, he was a very great professor," she told him, lifting her chin as her eyes watered.
"I'm sure he was, or will be," he told her, feeling a sense of melancholy drop down on them. "Perhaps you'd like to see him for tea tomorrow, though you seem to have quite a busy schedule already."
She smiled at him, her tears slowly evaporating. "There is always time for Hagrid," she said fondly, nodding.
"Good. Well then, I believe I've overstayed my welcome. Rest well, Hermione, and I'll see you in the morning." He moved to the door but then paused, turning back to her. "Given that you're a professor now, I'm going to have to begin calling you by your last name, dear. May I ask what that is?" he asked.
She was busy already, digging around in her trunk and only giving him half of her attention, and that is why, he assumed, that she was so forthcoming with the information. "Lupin," she replied, before stilling and lifting her head slowly.
It was slow in coming to Albus for just a moment and he nearly left it at that, until all of the information he'd gained from Hermione gave to him. Remus was her first subject in The Werewolf Project, and she said her husband was both a werewolf and her partner. She met Remus that night, and looked both sad and excited by the fact. She spoke of him as though they were incredibly close and she knew information involving him that he would be careful in giving out. "Mrs. Lupin, I'm guessing. So it is your married name," he said softly, realizing quickly how hard it must have been to see her dead husband alive, even if he was seventeen and in his werewolf form.
She swallowed audibly, rising from the floor. "Yes," she whispered. "We married shortly before the War. We weren't involved until I finished school, of course. I had known him since I was thirteen, but never considered him anything but a mentor. It was while we put together The Werewolf Project, which later turned into The Lupin Werewolf Project, that we fell in love. He was my inspiration for the idea and I thought to try it out on him first, before giving hope to others. When it worked out, we were both terribly excited and we extended it out into the world for others to come." She gave him a watery smile, so full of pain that he felt the familiar grandfatherly urge to embrace her. "I know my duties Albus, and I know that this may seem a depressed widow's journey for her lost love, but I have far greater needs for being here. I will not tell Remus of his future with me, and I will not interfere with his life as it unfolds, not anymore than I have to. I will keep him at a professional distance, especially given my position now as his professor. I assure you," she said, taking a wobbly step forward, her face pained and dark, "my reason for being here is not only for Remus. I came here to save everybody and give him the life he was never allowed to live. With his friends and the opportunity to use his intelligence and capability in a world that will accept him."
Albus stood, rather stunned. He never once thought to question her actions, and certainly hadn't even considered the notion that she was simply a grieving widow come to save one and only one person from the future. He could see, very clearly, that Hermione Lupin was a woman who had set out to change the whole course of things. She was here not for herself, but others. And it was perhaps the fact that she wasn't looking out for herself, even after the loss of her husband and best friends, that encouraged him to the fact that she was quite remarkably the most unselfish person he'd met. "I have no doubts in you, Mrs. Lupin, I assure you. I understand that it will be quite hard to see your husband every day, especially however many years younger." He paused then, silently querying to her original year.
She blushed very lightly, obviously worried about how he might react to her current year. "It was 2003 when I left, sir."
His brows lifted considerably. Twenty six years into the future, he thought with surprise. He mentally did the math and learned that Remus had been quite a bit older than his wife, though it didn't bother him as much as she might have thought. He could see that she dearly loved her husband and that was all that mattered to him. "And you say that a Death Eater killed me? Are you sure I didn't simply lay down to my old age. Why, I'm surprised," he said, jokingly.
She chuckled lightly, looking much less worried. "I'm quite certain. In fact, you were very spirited for your age," she informed him, smiling softly.
He laughed, shaking his head. "Ah, my dear, you fill an old man with dreams of being perfect."
She bowed her head, smiling warmly.
After a moment, he sobered some to the true state of things. He reached out, placing his hand on Hermione's shoulder. "I worry, Hermione, that you might be taking on a large quest. I have no doubt in your capability, but understand that what you plan to do will take a large amount of sacrifice on your part. You will lose those that you've already lost. The future will be so different that you may never know those you did when you were there. People will change, feelings will change, and I fear that those you love and who loved you, may not feel the same when you reach your time. Do you understand, dear?" he wondered, carefully.
Sniffling, she nodded slowly. "I knew when I left, Albus, that I would be forever changing everything around me. And it hurts, yes, to know that those I cared for would not know me as I knew them. It's hard to know that I will wake up to the faces of familiars and unfamiliar and feel the opposite of what I did, but I will do it. The sacrifice is worth it if it means that I can give life back to the people I knew. And I will not let the Wizarding world become what it was in my time. It was too reckless, too lifeless, too hate filled." She shook her head. "Don't worry yourself, because while I won't have them, I will at least have some. Simply seeing your face, Headmaster, has brightened my life, I assure you."
He nodded, patting her shoulder earnestly. "You are truly a heroine in disguise, Mrs. Lupin," he told her genuinely. "You may not see it, you may not even feel it. But you are." He nodded to her, before turning and walking to the portrait once more. "I don't believe you wish to be called Professor Lupin, not with all that is at stake, my dear, so what would you like me to tell others of your name."
She paused, obviously affected by the idea of changing her name. "Granger," she told him, quietly with a hoarse turn in her voice. "My maiden name is Hermione Granger."
"I see," he replied, smiling understandingly. "I will see you in the morning, Hermione."
"Yes, goodnight Albus," she farewelled, turning back to her trunk to finish unpacking.
After leaving her chambers, Albus made his way back to his office, reflecting on all that had transpired that afternoon. While unexpected and quite surprising, his late evening that had quickly become tedious, had become one of intrigue and hope. He genuinely understood why those in the future referred to her as the Witch-of-Hope as she had just bolstered his own. An uncharacteristic grin broke out over Albus' face. For the future was bright now, he had someone there to mend it for the better. Yes, he had a true trust for the young woman he only now met. Somehow, she had bewitched him with her kindness, fierce determination, and obvious intellect in the ways of the world. She was truly an asset and he was glad to know that she was on his side, for she would be a serious opponent were he against her. There was a power in her that he wasn't even sure she knew she had, and he knew that when others realized it, there would be trouble for the young time traveling witch. He sighed, while he felt joyous in the new add on to his staff, he knew there was trouble brewing. He only hoped Hermione Lupin was ready to conquer it, for she was there only hope.
A/N I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was quite interesting writing in Albus' point of view. I hope you like how things are progressing, please let me know. Thank you for reading, I'd love to read your views on things, so please review.
Much Love,
-Amanda