Previously: The twins create a time traveling phone booth that sends Hermione and Colin to the past accidentally. The time machine knocks out Dumbledore, keeping him from rejecting Tom Riddle from the DADA position, which Tom has great plans for.


Chapter 2: Keys, Vaults and Dumbledore

"Psst, Colin, where are you?" Hermione whispered, as her eyes darted around the dingy alley, its emptiness drawing a chill down her spine. Struggling to hear some sort of reply, her ears only met with the happy sounds of chattering friends, acquaintances and lovers strolling down the main street of the wizarding market only a few meters away.

A feeling of dread coursed through the twenty-three year old as her imagination began to run rampant. Images of chaos flooded her. A mugging. A fight. A struggle. Each scene more ghastly then the last. Death. Hermione's breath caught. Frantically she called out his name again. "Colin?" There was no reply. Her brows creased in worry, as she prayed that he had not been discovered.

Click. Click. Click. The sound of her heels resonated off the crumbling, faded brick walls. She scanned the walls and ground for traces of blood or magical upheaval. She took several more steps, before abruptly halting. There was nothing out of place. No boxes blown to bits. No colorful residue of magic glaring from the walls. Self-consciousness filled her, as another possibility took root. Perhaps he had left.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, as tears threatened to fall. Lost in time and now possibly alone, she had already become the past's wild card. The last few hours began looping endlessly in her head. Her endeavor to save Dumbledore had nearly ended in disaster. One life affecting many. How many would be destroyed?

Flashback

The cry of an infant filled the air. Hermione blinked at her colorful surroundings, before grimacing as she realized she had Apparated herself and Dumbledore into St. Mungo's maternity ward. She had forgotten the massive renovations that St. Mungo's had undergone decade's prior. Currently standing disillusioned inside a delivering mother's suite, she attempted to escape, Dumbledore in tow.

Turning she bumped into a jumpy, shaggy-haired wizard, who released the celebratory balloons he had been holding. As the balloons escaped his grasp, they exploded into twinkling lights and happy voices, startling the delivering mother. In between puffs of air the damp woman grappled with the wand at her bedside before proceeding to hex the man, her husband, into vomiting salamanders. As the slick salamanders fell from his mouth, the youthful wizard was led to the emergency ward to clear up the incident.

Careful of the salamanders, who where now cart wheeling and sliding across the slippery floor, Hermione followed the odd procession, being sure to avoid staff and patients, so the headmaster would not be jostled. Glancing at his pale face, a tear made its way down her cheek before she hastily wiped it away. No, it wouldn't do to cry now. She hurried her steps, and soon arrived in the Emergency Ward, which was bustling with activity.

To her right she could see a healer questioning a middle-aged wizard about the five extra hands the wizard had sprouted. As the healer was scrawling down critical information, one of the hands in question silently picked the youthful wizard's robe pocket of any valuables.

Shaking her head, she looked to her left, where a witch was attempting to herd four colorful goats that stood blocking an entrance. They were bleating loudly at the witch, with one goat butting her and grabbing her wand with its mouth.

Enraged the young witch began shouting at a pink and orange spotted goat that had her wand, "You boorish barnacle on a flobberworm. Give me my wand! … Don't look at me like that." The goat began to fuss at her words. "You completely deserved it. You scared Eli. You're lucky a goat is all I decided to turn you into."

She then turned to a green goat that was chewing on her robe. She tugged her robe free, before addressing the goat. "And you Augustus, you started all this." The green mass bleated in reply. "And don't give me that big brother speech again."

Hermione turned away from the oddity, her eyes skimming her surroundings once more, looking for anything she could use to help Dumbledore. Seeing an empty gurney she levitated the Headmaster onto it and removed the disillusioning spell from him.

She looked around, in hopes that the simple act of appearing would be enough to attract the attention of a nearby healer. Unfortunately none paused in their bustling. Hermione gazed down at Dumbledore, who was becoming paler and his breaths becoming shallower by the second. She itched to shanghais one of the available rooms and utilize any potions she may find to treat him. Yet, deep down she realized no good would come from this.

Quickly calculating her options, Hermione knew she could wait no longer. She spotted the healer, who had been treating the seven-armed man, draw near the medi-wizard's station. A prayer of apology passed her lips, as she decided that he would have to do. She walked toward the healer rapidly, wand firmly in hand, the clicking of her disillusioned heels lost in the loudness of the ward. Soon she stood directly behind him. Hermione hesitated, her thoughts warring with her at what she was about to do, before becoming resolved once more.

As the healer bent to pick up another chart, she grabbed his left shoulder, startling and jerking him from his bended pose. She jabbed her wand firmly into his back. He gasped. Lifting herself on the balls of her feet, her lips shifted precariously close to his ear. "Say nothing." She whispered hoarsely.

"Wha-" the wizard choked out in surprise, seeing no one as he turned toward the voice.

"Say nothing." Hermione repeated, attempting to make her voice as gruff as possible. She moved her wand to his neck, pressing it against his carotid artery in emphasis of what should happen if he disobeyed. She waited, attempting to still her shaking hand, hoping the healer would not call her bluff. The wizard stilled. Breathing a sigh of relief, she tightened her grip on his shoulder and directed the now silent wizard toward Dumbledore.

Their gaits were stilted and forced, as Hermione was continually required to nudge the man forward with her wand. The path before the duo parted, as others made way for the seemingly limping healer. Nine steps. Ten steps. They were almost upon Dumbledore. Just two more steps.

"Oy! Webber. What's with the lame leg act? Did one of the goat's ram you as well?" Healer Devius's booming voice questioned as he trotted up to the healer in Hermione's custody. Hermione became motionless as she waited.

Devius frowned at Webber's lack of reply. "Oy! Webber. Did the niffler's hoard your brain's?" He paused, scrutinizing the younger healer. "You're looking rather peaked." Devius furrowed his brows as the wizard began to blink his eyes rapidly and mime something with his mouth. The older healer tilted his head. "You're not making sense, mate." He slapped Webber's statuesque figure, hitting the slightly larger man's shoulder.

The move jostled Hermione and loosened her hold on the man. Webber took advantage of the momentary distraction and attempted to ward off his invisible attacker. A decision that proved fruitless as he swung his fist around, only to meet with air. Hermione had just barely ducked to avoid the blow.

Patting his robes for a wand, Webber turned toward Devius and gasped out, "dis- illus- uh- *hack* intru- der." Reaching into his back robe pocket, he finally located his wand and brandished it with a flourish. Hermione evaded the man again, hoping the wizard had not noticed the familiar glimmer of disillusion.

The situation had begun to escalate. Hermione absently noted that the other healer had disappeared, with the rest of the staff calling for the floor to be cleared. She moved toward Dumbledore, when a shot of light sailed past her. "Stupefy!" Her hope at remaining unnoticed dissolved. Her spell was beginning to give way. Turning, she saw the healer begin charging in her direction. Her eyes darted between the Headmaster and the healer. Seeing no other option, she waved her wand toward the healer and stumbled out of the way, just as Webber began to fall in Dumbledore's direction.

Nearly landing on the Headmaster, the healer gasped, finally seeing the bloody man before him. Thoughts of the intruder cast aside, he cast a preliminary spell, to assess the damage. The Headmaster's body was soon cocooned in a maroon light. "Bloody hell- Devius, Healer Rickets, we have a critical!" Webber began casting various stasis spells on Dumbledore.

Hermione swallowed as she heard this news. She held her breath, hoping she was not too late.

"Is that Prof- Headmaster Dumbledore? When did he come in? What happened?" Demanded another Healer that rushed in at the alarm. Strapping the Headmaster down, the Healer began administering several potions to the severely injured wizard.

"Rickets, we got to get him out of here. There's a crazed wizard on the premises, and I'm pretty sure he's responsible for the Headmaster's condition. We had no call ins." Webber looked around nervously as he and Rickets began carting Dumbledore away.

Rickets nodded, fastening another strap onto the headmaster, to prevent him from accidentally falling. "Devius told me. Called it in. We're now on official lock-down. Auror's should be here soon."

The healer had barely finished his statement when Auror's began flooding in from all directions, cutting off routes of escape with brutal efficiency. Hermione was trapped. She gazed around the room, which now bore a reddish cast from the auror's robes. She knew she would not remain invisible for long. Her eyes wandered over the area again in search of somewhere to hide.

"You," barked a harsh, gravely voice. Hermione, wheeled around startled, wand in hand, when she realized it was directed, toward a young, rotund wizard. Towering above him was a fierce- looking man, with a battle-worn face. Grabbing the youth by the arm, the Auror demanded, "You were closest to the assaulted. What did you see?"

The youth began sputtering fearfully. Hermione cringed as the interrogation nearly rendered the boy mute. Unable to take much more, she pointed her wand at the imposing Auror's robes and set them aflame.

The Auror unleashed a howl of outrage. Cursing, he released the man he had been interrogating, and shouted, "Dawes, Keyes, don't just stand there gawking, find the perpetrator!"

"Right away, Captain Hastings." A lanky auror, known as Dawes, replied, before hurrying off down a random corridor.

In the commotion, her eyes strayed to an empty patient's room that she could escape into. Darting quickly through the door she closed it tightly behind her, letting out a sigh of relief as she leaned against the door. The room was dark and sparsely furnished, limiting the number of places she could hide. Sensing her disillusioning spell on the brink of collapse, due to the heavy wards, she extinguished the spell, before continuing her analysis of the room.

Looking around for something that could aid her, she was drawn up short as she heard heavy footfalls down the hall. Not willing to take the chance of getting caught standing around the empty room she crawled underneath an empty bed and waited.

Stomp.Stomp. The angry strides grew nearer. Hermione shivered as she listened further, hoping for the individual to pass. Soon the stomping ceased and silence permeated the air. Her heart clenched. She willed the boots to continue their march down the sterile hall. Her hopes were dashed as she heard the door to the room scrape open.

From her spot on the floor, she could make out the burned and frayed edges of the wizard's red robe. She could sense his eyes observing- analyzing. She was certain their hot rays penetrated the thick springs and cushions of the mattress. Her body tense, she waited. Waited for the boots to turn, the torture to cease, the nightmare to end. As if hearing her plea the boots began to turn back toward the exit.

Stomp.Stomp. Silence. No more than a few steps were taken when the boots halted their forward motion. Turning again, the scuffed rubber soles began approaching her hiding place.

Stomp. The boots stopped in front of her. The scent of burnt leather infiltrated her nostrils. Nausea filled her as countless horrific scenarios ran through her mind. She could hear the rubbing of fabric as the person shifted. Fingers clutched the bedspread above knowingly. The mattress groaned from the resting weight of an arm as the person started to kneel. Hermione posed her wand anticipating the inevitable discovery, when the image of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters entered her mind. Altering her plan, she redirected her wand. The bending creak of joints was drawing closer. Forcing down the jitteriness that threatened to consume her, she murmured several words, before sinking through the floor below her, just as the face of Captain Hastings peered at the spot Hermione lay moments before.

Brushing through a solid object was an unusual experience and a feeling of displacement welled within Hermione as she fell through the floor. Her elbows bent, she braced herself for the fall and for any possible screams that would incur should she land on top of anyone. Thus, she was immensely surprised and grateful when she landed on a soft fuzzy cushion.

She gazed around the room from her fallen position and was please to note that it was vacant. Picking herself up, she snuck over to the door, pressing her ear up against it to make out any conversation.

"Honestly this stuff is grotty." Came a shrieky, high-pitched voice that nearly made Hermione recoil.

"What do you expect, Verona? Magical creatures don't eat people food, they'd sooner eat the people." A deeper voice replied.

Hermione froze, as she rapidly came to a sickening conclusion. A low buzzing hum filled the air. Dread coursed through her veins as she slowly turned around. The fuzzy cushion she had landed on earlier was clearly awake, its big, red eyes following her. It's jaws clicked loudly. The fuzzy creature somewhat resembled an ant, if the ant was the size of a pillow. She recognized it immediately. It was a Beeble.

She gave a sigh of relief. It was virtually harmless and largely feared people, as some wizards typically tried capturing it for its rich coat, which it shed twice a year.

Forgetting the prudence of a rapid escape, she approached the Beeble. It whined pitifully having had two of its six legs crushed. She softly cooed at the creature as she placing her hand on its head. The Beeble nuzzled into her. Using its distraction, she weaved a spell around its lame limbs, knitting them together. Abruptly the Beeble let out a brief but earth-shattering shriek. She cringed as realized she had forgotten three things: one how painful knitting bones can be, two a Beeble's shriek had a two kilometer radius and third to cast a silencing spell.

Her ears rang from the high-pitched squeal, leading her to rely on her remaining senses. It was then that the door through which she had been listening burst open, revealing the two aides she had heard chatting earlier.

"You're not authorized to be here!" Verona screeched, as the other male aide made to grab her arm and lead her away. His efforts were rendered useless, as the beast hurtled its small body at the wizard, knocking him down, and preceded to scuttle out through the open door.

Not wishing to be left behind, Hermione took her cue from the creature. She hopped over the fallen male aide and hurried after the creature. They wove through several nearly empty corridors, with observers assuming Hermione was trying to capture the run away creature. Suddenly the Beeble stopped, bounded up and leapt though what appeared a rather large laundry shoot. Hermione skidded to a stop. Eyeing the shoot wearily, she debated on whether to follow, knowing it was most likely safe as the fuzzy creatures had extremely good hearing, which aided them to avoid most dangers.

"You there, stop!"

Hermione turned; and saw the male aide from before. Glancing in the opposite direction, she noted in a reflecting mirror, that her other problem, Captain Hastings, was about to turn the corner. Without thinking further, she dove head first through the laundry shoot.

"O – ow." Hermione let out a short yelp, tumbling out of the shoot, into a pile of dirty laundry. She hoisted herself out of the pile just in time to see the Beeble scurry through an open door to the outside.

end flashback

She had immediately Apparated herself back to the site of their arrival, Colin's welfare at the top of her mind. Hermione wandered deeper into the alley, trying to contain the anxiety, worry and despair that were attempting to consume her. A missing friend, an injured mentor and she herself - lost in a place she didn't belong. She could feel her chest tightening in panic.

She forced herself to take a deep breath to allay her fears. Hearing a slight clatter, she turned toward the sound. Seeing another large group of boxes, she cautiously approached the cluster and attempted calling him once more.

"Colin, where – mmph." A hand closed around her, muffling her voice.

"Sssh, I'm here." The voice, which belonged to Colin, said, before releasing her.

Biting back a scream, Hermione wheeled around anxiously, her voice no louder than a whisper. "What happened? Were we discovered?"

Colin grinned sheepishly, "No, I just always wanted to do that, kinda of like in those thriller movies."

Hermione clenched her jaw, and before Colin knew what was happening, she slapped him across the face. "You idiot, you absolute idiot. Here I am worrying to death something happened. And here you are making games. Don't you care about Dumbledore! Don't you care if we possibly changed the timeline?" Her shoulders shook in building rage.

Colin took a step back, his expression changing quickly to one of concern, "I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't think. I mean, Dumbledore's okay right? It's St. Mungo's. They fix everything, right?"

Hermione stared up at him in stony silence.

Colin continued his rambling, "Did he wake up? It was an accident, we couldn't have known, we couldn't have changed anything… could we?"

As she looked at Colin's desolate visage, she felt guilty. She should not have blown up at him. She should not have let her temper get the best of her. After all they were in this together. Her expression softened. "I'm sorry, Colin." She sighed, before continuing, "I don't know how he's doing. I ran into a bit of trouble."

"Trouble, you're okay? Right?" Colin looked worriedly at her, his eyes quickly darting and checking for any injuries.

"Yes, I'm fine. Nothing big really, just a little delay." Hermione hedged, nearly biting her tongue. A voice inside her head thrummed, letting her know in no uncertain terms the consequences she could have faced. She was well aware if an auror had caught her she would have been carted off to Azkaban without a trial. Deciding it was best if Colin did not find out, she changed the subject, "Where's the phone booth? Is it up and running?"

"Oh, yeah. About that… There's a slight, teensy, wincey, tiny, little problem." Colin bated his breath, trying to gauge Hermione's reaction, yet she stared back expressionless. He decided to plow forward, "After running a full spectrum analysis, no major damage was done to the machine, in fact everything's in perfect condition." Hermione let out a sigh of relief. "Except for one thing." She stared at him. "Er…the crystal." Her eyes narrowed at the young man standing before her. "It…er…it got broken."

Hermione pursed her lips, "Can we run without it?"

"Everything inside it evaporated," Colin wrung his hands nervously.

"Okay, but can we run without it?" Hermione reiterated.

Colin fumbled, his eyes shifting everywhere but in her direction. "The mirrors which amplify the power are in perfect order and the Lutetium condensing chamber is still intact."

Hermione growled frustratedly, "I don't care what is intact, I just want to know about what's broken- in particular- the crystals!!"

He shuffled away from her slightly, "Well... the crystals are quite common. It's just what was in the crystals that was a bit rarer..."

"Colin! The stuff that evaporated …how- important- is it!"

Seeing Hermione's piercing gaze flare up, he swallowed and faltered out. "It- It's what powered the machine."

oOo

"You last saw her jump through here, right, with the creature?" Auror Dawes asked a burly wizard named Julian.

"Yeah, I saw her. She ordered it to attack me. Verona can vouch; she was with me the entire time. Luckily, I'm the fastest wand this side of England or that thing would have torn me to pieces. It's probably lucky we came in when we did, or she would have had the beasts overrun St. Mungo's. She cost this hospital a lot of Galleons. The Parkinson's owned that beastie you know." Julian groused, this was his third retelling of the story, and every time he told it, it became more sensational.

Striking a heroic pose Julian added, "Oh yeah, I also kept them from attacking the wing with the kids, write that down, too."

Dawes mentally rolled his eyes, having high suspicions about Julian's version of things but refrained from commenting, instead he scribbled notes on onto his parchment furiously with his quill.

Finally looking up he asked, "How did she look like?"

Julian sniffed, "A muddy, one of those wild ones. Short, maybe medium height, ripped trousers, and hair that looks like it got into a battle with a cat and lost. In short she looked like she was raised by a three-headed dog."

"Hmm, yes, I see." Dawes mumbled. "Well, thank you for your time."

"No problem, I think of it as a service. The fewer muds walking the streets the better." Julian chuckled as he walked away.

Auror Dawes headed back to his boss, his mind still on the information the burly wizard has given him. "Muddy raised by a three-headed dog." Auror Dawes muttered under his breath with a snort.

It was obviously full of tosh; who had ever heard of a Muggle-born witch being raised by a three-headed dog? Granted, she probably ran through the halls frantically and therefore looked quite wild, but there were no doubts in Dawes's mind that Julian had exaggerated what he had truly seen.

Once in range of Captain Hastings he lingered back, wary of his ill-tempered Boss, choosing to wait for the Head Auror to notice him.

After a moment the voice barked, "Don't just stand there like that... Dawes, report!" Dawes nearly tripped over himself in his rush to quickly get to the Captain.

"Anything about the wizard who attempted to off Dumbledore, and most likely burned my new uniform?" Hastings growled as he thought of his newly purchased robe, from Unicorns and Uniforms, which had become a causality earlier that day.

"No sir, not a trace, but we did have another case of a magical creature escape –"

"There can't be nothing. I want this building searched again, he had to have left something behind. It was a non-magical attack for Merlin's sake." He roared frustratedly. "Find the weapon, find something. I want to know who. I want to know why. I want to know how. If the damn wizard clobbered him with a troll's club, I want you to get it. Got it?"

"Yes, sir, very good, sir." Dawes gulped.

Hastings began waving him away, before stopping him again. "That magic creature thing- any connection?"

Dawes hastily clipped his spectacles on his nose and shuffled through his parchments.

"No sir, looks to have been done by one of those activists," Dawes finally concluded.

"Ah, well," Hastings sighed, "It was a thought."

oOo

Hermione leaned against the wall in the alley. "So we need some time-turner sand?"

Colin looked at Hermione; she looked exhausted. Her eyes fought to remain opened. Dirt smudged her face and arms. Traces of blood lingered on her hands. He did not want to unload his story on her, but if they had any chance of getting back to their own time it had to be told. He decided to start off by answering her question, "No, it was a special concoction made by Fred and George."

Hermione groaned, "I don't suppose you saw their brewing process?"

"Not quite, but there wasn't much brewing, there were only three ingredients." Colin recollected almost nostalgically the many explosive incidents that colored the twins trials, one had nearly leveled their apartment, such that they had to move back to the burrow temporarily while the house elves attempted to scrub the place clean, which would take some time as there were spots that even Mrs. Scowler's Magical Mess Remover could not clean.

"Do you know what the ingredients were?" Her tone indicated that she had no such expectations.

"Actually I do … as I supplied them." The cat was out of the bag, and he was pretty sure the questions would come. He wasn't disappointed.

The questions came like rushing water, rapid and without pause. "What? I thought you were a photographer? What were the ingredients? How did you get them? Are they very rare? They're not illegal are they? How did Fred and George rope you into this? And most importantly where IS our time machine?" After asking her last question Hermione indicated toward the empty space where the ridiculous contraption last stood.

"It took a bit of doing but I moved it." Colin puffed up his chest proudly.

"Where?" Hermione asked looking around the dirty alley, for any traces of glamour's that might be hiding their transportation home.

"Down there." Colin pointed to floor of the alley, where the lines of a trap door could be slightly made out. Hermione thought back to their arrival and though they had been rushed she hadn't recalled seeing it before.

As if sensing her thoughts, Colin answered her unspoken question, "I used my wand, it's warded, but I couldn't remember all the spells so it might be a slight distance to the bottom," he said as he lifted the trap door. "After you, my lady."

She looked down into the cellar Colin had created, noting the fact that there were no stairs. She shrugged her shoulders determining the bottom being not very far, and jumped down into the area below, Colin not far behind.

Once at the bottom, she lighted the area with her wand. Though small, it was structurally sound and there nestled in a corner, was the machine, as well as her bags. Impressed, she turned to Colin to tell him so, when she remembered her other questions.

"Well, aren't you going to continue?" At Colin's blank look she added, "Your story, the ingredients, how you got roped into all this."

"That, well, I suppose it's best if I start from the beginning." Transfiguring two small pebbles he found into chairs, "You'll probably want to sit down as this could take awhile."

.oOo.

"So you found something else to occupy your time." A croaky voice spat out, its owner a man with stringy hair, and a black burnt mark running over his left cheek.

"Yes, Mr. Burke, indeed I have found 'something else' as you put it." Tom Riddle placed his shop keys on the counter, and continued, "So as per our binding shop agreement, upon termination of this job I am handing over all the store's keys I carry, as well as any I hold." As he placed the keys on the table and slid them to Burke, a glow illuminated the room, signaling the transaction complete.

Burke stared at the man momentarily. A strange feeling came over him, as if he had forgotten something. He thought hard, trying to gauge what was wrong with the transaction. The man before him was extremely clever, such that he would not put it past him to manipulate the situation in some way. Finally giving up on his pondering, he grabbed the keys and bid Riddle a sharp farewell, before heading to the backroom.

Tom grinned. It certainly was a wonderful day, he could not have planned everything better himself. Stepping outside the shop, he Apparated back to his cramp but tidy flat. Burke should have been more careful about his wording of the initial agreement Tom thought without remorse. After all he just made sure not to carry or hold, the extra copies of the store keys he had made, thus satisfying the agreement.

Looking around his flat, he knew it would not take him long to pack. Taking this into consideration, he decided it best to first stop at St. Mungo's, to take care of some important business. The affair would require a vial from his cooling cabinet of potent potions.

After all wasn't it customary to give some meaningful little gift when visiting someone ill in the hospital?

.oOo.

Silence reigned briefly as Hermione processed all that Colin said, "So let me get this straight, since there was really no money in photography, you worked as a transporter of sorts, delivering rare and sometimes illegal items, to well paying clients, attributing the income to your photos." She paused before continuing, "Fred and George saw you delivering a Mercurian Blue Sparrow, from their joke shop and cornered you, asking you to supply them." Colin nodded his head, "In the end they discovered combining Sebal Stone, Liverwood, and Trow water, enabled time travel over greater periods of time than the typical time turner."

"Yep, basically that sums it all up." Colin said in a casual tone.

Hermione looked at him in disbelief, of all the things Colin could have told her this definitely wasn't on her to expect list. She decided to focus on the most immediate problem at hand- the ingredients. She rubbed her index finger along her upper lip, in thought, as her mouth pulled into a faint frown, "The Liverwood shouldn't be a problem, slightly expensive true but found in almost every apothecary. The Sebal Stone on the other hand, how in the world did you get your hands on that?! On second thought I don't think I want to know."

She began to pace back and forth restlessly. "Who supplies Trow Water? Most wizards think it a myth, while others highly debate its location, though to the best of my knowledge the lake that carries it is somewhere in Ireland."

Colin seemed to be highly relieved, "Well at least we have an idea of where it is, my supplier refused to tell me his source, as he had only had two vials –and those he only recently started carrying."

"Then what about the Sebal Stone? We can't march into the Department of Mysteries, just asking for it. It's been highly guarded since 1922." Hermione looked at him pointedly.

"Maybe I could get a job there, or I could try contacting some suppliers, after all they've been in the business for a while, and I know where some of the fronts they do business from are." Colin said as he thought through possible solutions to one of the problems.

"We really can't get by without money…" Hermione trailed off, as the seriousness of their situation hit even harder. "But to find a job in the 1950s…"

"…would be like changing history." Colin finished, picking up Hermione's train of thought.

The two sat in silence, coming to terms with the gravity of their state of affairs. They were in a time where they were not supposed to exist. They had no wizarding legal papers, no money, no friends, no home and no food. They were currently sitting underneath a dirty alley frequented by a drunk.

Colin spoke up hesitantly, "We already… most likely, anyway…changed history, with Dumbledore and all. Maybe the best thing to do would be to blend in, until we can figure out a way back home. I know of some places… we can get some fake IDs, registered wands… it would help us get some jobs anyway."

Hermione started nodding in agreement, before halting, suddenly remembering something. Standing up suddenly she looked at Colin, with the beginnings of what looked like a smile upon her face, "Maybe we won't need one."

.oOo.

"These robes are itchy." Colin complained.

"Well, you wanted to fit in, and most of the wizards are wearing wool robes." Hermione stated, her own robes swishing, as they climbed up the steps of Gringotts.

"Yeah, but they don't have to feel like wool robes."

Glancing at Colin, Hermione observed him before adding, "I still can't believe what you do for a living."

They entered the building and approached an available goblin. Hesitantly, she handed him a key that she had been wearing around her neck. A look of surprise crossed the goblin's face as he scrutinized it before his eyes narrowed speculatively.

"What be your business?"

Hermione said nothing. Her instructor Mr. Yigami had given her the key immediately after she had been accepted by the apprenticeship. Hermione smiled fondly when she thought about the instructor who had taught her so much, yet who always left her wondering about his sanity. The key was supposed to access an ancient vault in Gringotts; a vault that took over 100 goblins and 5 years to build. It was rumored to contain many secrets and a nearly endless supply of galleons. She was given strict directions not to use the key unless she was faced with an emergency.

Hermione could not see any emergency bigger than this, and so dragged Colin over to the bank. Her gaze locked with the goblins, as she remembered the one instruction that would enable her access to the vault, and hopefully some funds. Speak nothing.

Giving her what she supposed was a crooked smile, the goblin spoke again, "You's be the first to visit this century, our last one came in 1889, maybe you'll meet him down there. What's left of him, anyway." He laughed as he motioned for her to follow. When Colin attempted to join them, the goblin swiveled and bared his teeth, "You stay here. You have no key."

She gave Colin a reassuring smile and turned to follow the goblin. Passing the normal carts, they made their way toward the back of the bank, until they reached a lift. "After you," the goblin motioned, "and best strap yourself in."

Seeing a group of complicated fastenings, she began to tie them around her, but before she could clip in the last one, the goblin let out a cackle, and pulled a lever, sending them on a plunging free fall into the caverns below. Just when Hermione thought they would splatter on the bottom soon, or exit on the other side of the world, the lift began slowing gradually, before coming to a complete halt. Stepping out of the lift, she staggered slightly, before lifting her face, her eyes widening at the sight that lay before her.

The vault was a work of art, wrought with gold and silver, it bore multitudes of carvings. The diamond eyes of a hundred goblins glittered at her as they sat circled around a shifting dragon, who attempted flying toward her, his ruby teeth gnashing together in rage, before being stopped by his own trappings.

Lowering her gaze from the vault her eyes met a river of lava. The sweltering inferno it generated caused beads of sweat to trickle down her temples.

"Good luck," the goblin smirked.

Drawing her brows together in slight confusion, she wondered what the goblin meant, until she saw there was no bridge for her to cross. A problem Mr. Yigami failed to mention. She thought for a moment, trying to remember what she may have forgotten. The words ran through her head. Do not speak. Was there more? Her mind whirled around. He quoted someone. Don Marquis, who had spoken of blood. She strained to remember. Blood will tell, but often it tells too much. That was it. Mr. Yigami had told her not to speak, for the blood will tell.

But how? The question echoed with her brain. She gazed around the large chamber again for a clue. There did not seem to be anything that could help her, until a rolling rumble caught her attention. Walking in the direction of the sound she soon faced a large rock positioned at the edge of the treacherous river. She blinked uncertain as to how she could have missed the protruding stone. Carved into the stone was a smooth basin, filled with a swirling dark tar. As she peered at the tar it began to take shape. Soon a hungry face appeared from its depths.

Hermione grimaced realizing what was required. Turning to the goblin that had followed her, she grabbed a knife from his side armor, despite his protests. Taking a deep breath she made a superficial cut over the palm of her hand and allowed the blood to drip into the basin. The face frowned as the red liquid touched it, emitting a shriek of horror as it began to dissolve and transform. The whole room began to shake as slowly a bridge of rocks appeared before her and the carvings on the vault stilled.

Quickly crossing the bridge, she pressed her key into the vault's lock. The mechanical wheels turned and clanked as the vault slowly creaked open. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light.

'What in the world,' Hermione thought. Taking a few more steps inside, she rubbed her eyes hoping that she was hallucinating. Yet, the vault still looked empty. She shook her head, quietly grumbling about stupid instructors, and their stupid sense of humor. As Hermione turned to leave, she nearly tripped over a bag.

Picking it up, she examined it closely. It did not feel very heavy at all. She opened it swiftly and pulled out a small note. She stared at the three words written on the note:

What you need

Hermione puzzled over the words. She weighed the small bag in her hand again with some trepidation. Curious at what the vault decided to bestow her with, she peeked inside. On seeing the item her jaw dropped. She immediately tucked the bag into her robes and beckoned to the now irritable goblin that she was indeed ready to go back.

.oOo.

"Well, did you get it?" Colin inquired, as they stepped out of the coolness of Gringotts, into the heavy humidity.

"I got something." Hermione said mysteriously, before frowning, "I just hope it's enough."

Turning to Colin, she ordered, "Now let's go visit Dumbledore."

.oOo.

Finding Dumbledore's room was fairly easy, and even easier slipping past the staff. She expected the room to be sealed or warded in some fashion, especially after what happened earlier. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, she dragged Colin into the room and over to where the headmaster lay. His cheeks were filled with more color than before, but he was no more active.

"Colin, we -" she stopped abruptly, "-we have to hide now." She pushed them both into a nearby linen closet, just as two people entered the room.

The closet was surprisingly spacious, it contained a few blankets and hospital gowns and a small traveling bag that most likely belonged to Dumbledore. Curiosity grabbed hold of her as she wondered who the visitors may be. Waving her wand she created a one way view through the door. The individuals slowly materialized in front of her.

"Here we are Sir," a girl giggled, staring adoringly at the dark-haired man. Hermione studied him, he appeared quite handsome, with the cut of his robes indicating that he was quite fit as well.

"Thank you so much, Gwen." The man said smoothly. "I hope I could have a little time alone with him."

"Oh, I don't know, Mr. Riddle." The girl said a little nervously.

"Please, Gwen, call me Tom, just a minute or so is all I need," Riddle smiled winningly at the girl.

"All right, Tom." The girl batted her eyes at him, before disappearing from the room.

Hermione's jaw dropped as did Colin's. Mr. Tom Marvolo Riddle, Mr. aka I am Lord Voldemort visiting Dumbledore? She idly wondered how he chose this name, though she admitted it was significantly better than Lord Voted Immoral, Immortal Dove Lord or Mild Tom A Overlord, other anagrams of his name, however appropriate they be. Anyway, whatever his purpose it could not be good, and Hermione just itched to jump out and hex him. Reigning the impulse, she stood still and observed.

"Well, well Albus, not quite all powerful now." Tom's eyes lingered on Dumbledore, a threatening flash glimmering from its green depths. A smirk graced his features while he eyed the Headmaster with intense hatred in his eyes. Hermione's breath hitched as he pulled out a vial from his robes with the look of a serpent ready to strike its prey.