A/N: The story is starting to really move forward, but I'm afraid I'm jumping around a bit again.
Too much has happened and needs to happen to put in a single continuous stream of time, but I think I've got it mostly moving forward... mostly.
As always, this is JKR's playground, and I thank her for letting me play in it.
I've received one PM and had two friends mention that they had to re-read at least the last chapter to make sense of CH 11. With that in mind, here is a quick review:
Sirius, looking for Hermione's missing father, is captured when he blunders right into the path of none other than Lucius Malfoy, who happily stuns the Marauder and takes him to his Dark Lord.
Harry, having gotten fed up of waiting for news, sneaks out of Hogwarts to Grimmauld Place.
The Bella-bomb detonates in the Dark Lord's face, leveling an entire wing of Malfoy Manor, with Lucius and his prisoner Sirius at ground zero. Many Death Eaters are present as well. Draco, his mother and a few guests not in the wing are evacuated.
Moments later Harry learns that he is now "Lord Black" from none other than Kreacher. The House wards are already attuning themselves to him and he can soon feel the pressure of generations of Black family magic.
His attitude - already strained from lack of sleep and the almost certain loss of his only family - becomes darker as he awaits 'official' word from Dumbledore.
One look at Dumbledore trading sad looks with Minerva and Harry begins to demand to know what happened to Sirius.
He learns that Sirius had last been involved in the rescue of a muggle. The Black family magic is livid at the idea of a Black dying for a muggle. Influenced by grief, exhaustion and a healthy dose of dark magic - Harry makes his first action as 'Lord Black' the command to banish the Grangers from Grimmauld Place.
Hermione goes from one extreme to another yet again, still in the space of the 24 hours that she lost her mother, her home and lost-then-regained her father. Now she and her father are dumped outside in the cold with no explanation. Did I mention that she discovered she was a witch somewhere in there?
Jean CH 11 A Little More Time
November 1st, 1993
Grimmauld Place, Kitchen
The room hummed and thrummed with a magical pulse. The energy was centered on the young man across the kitchen from the only two people who hadn't fled the room at Dumbledore's 'request'.
Harry's vision seemed to darken, he felt the weight of the House upon him. The Old Magic wanted the connection to the Black family blood restored.
The boy felt oddly detached as he had watched the rabble scurry from his presence. The magic was growing in him, demanding an answer to the loss of Sirius, demanding vengeance for his death. A swell of anger and power built unbidden in Harry's mind. He would get what he wanted for he was Lord Black!
A spark of magic arced from the youth to the wall, scoring the ancient wood for a moment before snapping off with a crackling noise that made Minerva blanch at the display of raw power coming from her third year student.
Albus Dumbledore, however, was not impressed. "ENOUGH!" roared the old mage. Magical energy crackled around the youth once again, but this time it seemed to sink into Harry. "You will not disgrace the memory of your godfather by striking about with his family magic like a child in a tantrum. Control yourself. Now!"
The hum of magic died like a candle blown out, with barely a wisp of smoke for evidence of what was moments ago burning bright.
Harry sagged on his feet, his face stricken in a mixture of self-loathing, grief and terror. Exhaustion threatened to drop him on the spot, but one look at his Headmaster and he saw that he was not going to get off that easy. The darkness swirling behind his eyes slipped away and he realized how close to losing control he had come.
"I... I'm, so-so-sorry-" he choked out, but Dumbledore cut across his apology with his voice as much as his hand.
"I'm not the one you owe an apology. Right now there are invited guests of House Black sitting bewildered in the street. Bring them back into their room, apologize quickly and return here. We have much to discuss."
The young man's first reaction to his Headmaster's tone was shock, he'd never heard the old man speak to anyone this way, let alone a student, and certainly not him. He'd always been a favorite of Dumbledore and he knew it. His mind caught up to the words a full second later. After a hasty "Yes Sir!" he reacted to the commands. Acting on instinct, his magic kicked in and he and disappeared without a sound.
.o0o.
Hermione looked up at the outstretched hand and into the clouded green eyes of Harry Potter. She didn't know the boys' name, of course, but she did know his pain. It was clear in his watery eyes and so plain on his conflict-ridden face.
She and her dad had just gotten their minds around the fact that they were kicked out when a boy in school robes appeared soundlessly in front of them. He'd immediately apologized and asked them to please take his hands, then reached down towards them both.
Neither Granger had yet responded.
Closing his eyes, the boy let out a long, rattling sigh. Hermione's heart clenched, she knew that sound.
"Please?" he asked, "I am so very sorry, I lost sight of what I was doing when I found out Sirius-" his voice failed.
Hermione shook herself from the stupor of these startling past few moments. Meeting her father's eyes, she gave a quick nod, to which he shrugged and grabbed his bag. He reached his free hand up to grasp the hand of the distraught young man, who seemed to be startled by the contact. Grabbing the handle of her trunk, she too reached up to take the dark haired boy's offered hand. She met his eyes briefly, still seeing a tumult behind the bright green, and then he clamped them closed again.
A moment later the air was stuffy – and sadly still smelled of cleaning supplies. The boy dropped his hands to his sides, breaking their connection. Both Grangers were still seated, but now they were on their beds. Her luggage was at the foot of her bed and her father's bag lay on the bed next to him. The boy stood with his back to the door of their small room and he raised his eyes to look at them each in turn.
"I think Sirius is dead." He stated, a toneless series of words that conveyed exhaustion as deeply as loss. "I suddenly became the head of the house and I lashed out when I found out he had last been looking for you when he..." He looked upon her father with a mixture of anguish, anger and confusion.
The boy squeezed his eyes shut, Hermione noticed that he had balled up his fists and in fact his whole body had gone rigid before he let out a breath that seemed to chill the room by several degrees. His body lax, the dark haired youth looked at them each in turn again with tired, pained eyes. "I offer my apology as your Host. I will honor the hospitality offered by Lord Black and I ask your forgiveness for my behavior. I am required elsewhere, however just ask for Dobby if you have any immediate needs. I will come and speak to you again as soon as I am able."
Hermione hadn't known who the young man was, but he didn't come back for many hours. By then the various nurses had filled her in on the news. Harry Potter was the boy's name. He was the heir to House Black and yet just a student in his third year at Hogwarts – the school she had been invited to. He was also idolized as a hero for defeating a madman over a decade ago, supposedly the same madman who was responsible for last night's anarchy.
So the Grangers spent the morning becoming acquainted with the legends and history of not just their host, but of the world they had been thrust into.
.o0o.
Minerva blinked at where the boy had been. Her gaze slid over to see the frown on Albus's face and she blinked again.
"Well then."
She had more to say. A whole books' worth more to say. It's just she couldn't get her mouth to form words around the swirl of thoughts and reactions to all that had happened in such a short time.
Albus had returned to studying the large status board that covered one kitchen wall, staring directly at the blank space representing the status of the missing Sirius Black.
Before she got a handle on anything more lucid the boy was back, appearing right where he had disappeared from. That actually made things worse – it raised more questions: When had Harry Potter learned to apparate? Soundlessly no less!
Albus was already moving to the table, seemingly unruffled by the events of the last few minutes, he gestured for Harry to sit. The ancient wizard gave a quick wave of his wand and a full tea set with biscuits appeared; he began pouring without a word.
Over the next twenty minutes Albus Dumbledore explained why he thought Sirius was still alive, but magically imprisoned somehow. The more difficult bit was why they couldn't do anything to free Sirius, yet.
Through it all young Harry seemed to sit rigidly, yet attentively listening. The boy was obviously scared and certainly still angry, but the most words he said were 'yes sir' and 'no sir'.
The sometimes playfully snarky but usually pleasant young man now seemed equal parts terrified and fatigued. When Albus finally asked the boy to drink a calming draught it seemed to have almost no effect, other than to cause Harry to begin yawning regularly. He still sat rigidly, his eyes downcast.
Sending him back to Hogwarts wasn't an option: if he had begun to bond with the House magic, removing him would almost certainly kill him.
The Headmaster began speaking to Harry in a slow, methodical tone that Minerva could feel reverberated with some form of charm, though she'd never heard of it before.
Meanwhile the witch used the floo to inform Madam Pomfrey of Harry's location and that he'd be spending the night. When she turned from the firecall she found that Harry had fallen asleep at the table, his brow deeply knit even in sleep.
.o0o.
When Harry did return to speak to the Grangers late that afternoon, he appeared a very different young man. The first and most noticeable difference was that he was dressed in different clothing. The dark, formal looking robes he wore had a crest upon the chest and were obviously very expensive and appeared important. Despite their fine appearance, Harry obviously didn't seem comfortable in the formalwear.
Introductions were exchanged and the Grangers politely feigned ignorance of their young host's identity. A very few pleasantries later, Harry had reiterated his assurance of their welcome, instructed them once again to call upon someone named Dobby if they had pressing needs and then left upon 'family business'.
All in all he didn't look as broken as he first appeared to them and yet Hermione could see through his walls. She could see that he was not new to the game of hiding his emotions, but also that he was unsure of himself.
Over the next month the Grangers saw Harry irregularly, sometimes in the middle of the day or over a weekend, but never for long and he was always distracted. He seemed to gravitate to the basement - which Hermione had surmised was the magical equivalent of a shooting range. She had grown used to the strange vibrations that sometimes accompanied his 'workouts', but it was somewhat disconcerting that a boy her age was downstairs blowing things up.
She began her private schooling straight away, an older man named Remus Lupin came the very next day stating that Sirius was a personal friend who had requested him as a tutor for Hermione. The young woman was amazed at the gesture from a man she had really only just met. She did not know that Minerva had placed the request to Sirius days before.
Remus was an unusual man though he seemed competent enough as a teacher. He had straight away set her up with a schedule of 'classes', which was to say books for her to read and try to understand.
Within those first few days he'd had to revise his schedule three times. He was still not convinced that Hermione could possibly be learning everything at the pace she set; a pace that Remus (he refused to accept the title of Professor) himself could barely keep up with, trying as he was to review material from going on twenty years past. This in addition to his other duties and, she suspected, working with other refugees.
The wizard found in Hermione a student that was more willing and adept at learning than anyone he'd known since his own school days.
Finally at the end of the first week he seemed to realize that Hermione was soaking up everything he could teach and was still ready for more. That Friday he broke the rules for Hermione for the first of many times.
Remus took her and her father into Diagon Alley. There she got her wand, though she was not allowed to use it. At least not outside of Grimmauld Place. Even within the old house, she was not to use magic in front of anyone besides himself, Professor McGonagall, the Headmaster or a strange young Auror named Tonks; who was the unofficial security for the slowly dwindling number of refugees still in the old house.
She also bought or was bought about thirty books on spells and magical theory, its origins and many more of that same vein.
The man she called 'Sir', despite his protests, was beginning to see some of what Sirius had glimpsed, and what Minerva had hoped he could cultivate.
It had been over a dozen years since McGonagall had found a young witch that reminded her of herself so strongly. The elderly professor dearly hoped she could help make this young woman's life better than those who had held such potential before her.
After a short discussion between the wizard and witch, they proposed their plan to get Hermione into Hogwarts in an advanced status to her father.
Daniel took one look at his daughter's wide, excited eyes and relented. "But you won't push yourself too hard," he had demanded. Nobody present believed it.
.o0o.
November 11th, 1993
Hermione placed the heavy book carefully on the table and stretched. She felt her muscles protesting and she had to keep working her left foot back and forth – it had fallen asleep. Blinking rapidly she realized that the light in the windows was more dawn than streetlamp and cringed both inwardly and physically.
Dad would not be amused. Even though her father was much more at ease these last few days, he was still her dad and had decided that she must have a regular schedule. He'd have a stroke if he knew the hours she had kept at Uni.
Thinking about her father, she had to smile. Having finally found something useful to contribute had certainly turned the corner for him. Who knew a background in naval signals would come in so handy? While Hermione may have gotten her analytical mind from her mother, her dad was no dummy. In fact, when it came to codes he was brilliant; brilliant and a stickler for regimen. She hadn't just overdone it, she had completely ignored sleep altogether. Maybe she could sneak up to her bed?
A quick tempus later and the cringe became a full on grimace. The tall buildings on Grimmauld Street masked the sun's progress, it wasn't dawn: It was half past 8 in the morning. Add Remus and Professor Sinistra to her list of those who would surely be angry at sleep-deprived-Hermione.
There was no way she could make it through the day's studies and she had that report due to both of her teachers on the lunar eclipse just two nights ago. The effects of an eclipsed full moon upon Remus had sounded like a fascinating report subject for both her DADA and Astronomy classes when in fact it had yielded almost no data and mostly just boredom for Hermione while Remus sulked in his cage for three straight hours. He was fully in control while under the effects of the wolfsbane potion, yet he was unwilling to take the chance.
Not that it mattered to her father who had made his thoughts clear despite the fact that he and Remus got along quite well otherwise. It was a long ways better than her father's initial reaction to learning that she was taking lessons from a real live werewolf!
Shrugging aside the episode as much ado about nothing, Hermione reflected upon how she was going to make a detailed and informative report about what didn't happen. The fact was that there just wasn't anything to report. That lack of data had led her to browsing through the books.
She had found yet another book in the Black library that allowed her access. Access that, according to Harry, she shouldn't have until her magic was more 'mature'. She failed to suppress the snort from her memory of the first time he had found her reading books from 'his library'. The poor guy had just stared at her, then shook his head and went back downstairs. That's all he ever did the rare times he was here – go downstairs and blow things up.
She couldn't understand how he could turn away from so much potential, the knowledge she had gained in just one week was staggering even to her accomplished mind. Besides, Sirius had said she could use the library the day he had shown it to her. The last day anyone had seen him.
Shaking off the gloom, Hermione limped towards the kitchen, her tingling foot was the only part of her that caught anything approaching sleep and apparently it didn't want to wake up. She was halfway through the automatic process of getting cereal out when she realized that today was Thursday, one of her 'free days'.
To most people the term 'free day' might mean a day off. And in a way, it was, she wouldn't have to go running with Remus or Tonks. She wouldn't have to turn in any school work (that was tomorrow). She was allowed to do as she pleased, on no one's schedule but her own. After being up for the last two days with minimal sleep, a quick fill up on Toasties and a long nap would be a great start to her day.
Twenty minutes later Hermione had eaten, cleaned up and brushed her teeth and was settling into her magically comfortable bed in her small but private room. Her last conscious thought was of the meeting she was to have with Professor McGonagall that afternoon over possibly getting more help for her studies.
.o0o.
Same day, Hogwarts
Minerva reviewed the latest papers with a smile. She picked up and magically examined the perfectly formed needle and set it down with its near dozen mates. Excellent transfiguration.
Hermione's work was impeccable, as usual, and the deputy headmistress was pleased to feel confident that her gamble with the exceptional young woman was paying off. If she kept up this pace she would be able to start next year, albeit as a third year – but only one year behind her peers was a fantastic accomplishment that the older witch doubted any other student could pull off with such a late start.
Pursing her lips, the Professor considered the correspondence that lay to the side of her desk. Her longtime friend in the Department of Mysteries had survived the inquiries of the past years mostly due to the upheaval caused by the supposed return – and quick disappearance of – the Dark Lord Voldemort. She owed the man immensely for the risks he took, though in truth it was just as much her risk and his ideas that led to their conspiracy against blocking Hermione's magic.
If she truly understood what he was hinting at, the young woman could be a perfect candidate. The idea would work for both his theories and the betterment of a very promising young witch.
It could very well mean the difference between starting third year next year – as Minerva forecast – or instead coming to Hogwarts after the holiday, albeit as a second year. The deputy Headmistress was sure that the witch would be able to handle the schedule and in doing so catch up with her peers by the end of the summer.
Minerva despised the 'art' of divination, yet she'd learned to never ignore her gut; her gut was telling her that Hermione needed to be with her peers. More to the point, that her peers, one in particular, needed Hermione.
Someone had to give that boy some competition or he'd continue to coast. Dark Lord aside, Harry Potter was becoming complacent. Worse, in his boredom, he was beginning to remind Minerva of the worst sides of his father as well as the old behavior of the god-father that was no longer around to guide him. There was a reason Head of House was not often awarded to a fourteen year old boy and Harry Potter was quickly starting to demonstrate why.
. . .
That afternoon Minerva met with Croaker, her friend from the Department of Mysteries. They traveled by secure portkey to the ready-room in Grimmauld Place, where the pair separated. Croaker waited while the Professor fetched the young witch who was the reason for their visit.
Seated as comfortably as they could be in what was basically an office, the elder magicals looked intently upon the 'brand new' witch.
Though she trusted her mentor, Hermione did not know this strangely garbed man, whose face she wasn't quite able to focus upon. Their stares unnerved her yet she stayed calm; falling back upon years of 'training' in handling stress from her peers, she breathed slowly and deeply.
The man continued to stare into the girls eyes until finally, as if fed up with the wait, Hermione stared right back at him and refused to blink.
"Yes, I think so." Was the man's confusing statement a few (long) moments later.
Hermione blinked, then again to clear the spots and looked to her Professor for some clue as to what was happening.
"Hermione Jean Granger, I have a question for you." The man's tone was calming, kind even, yet the young woman couldn't quite shake her wariness.
"Go ahead, uhm, sir."
"What is the one thing you could do with more of?
'Oh, a riddle!' Hermione loved riddles... 'Let's see, books-yes, time-definitely, money-not so much, friends-' her musings were cut short by her mentors cleared throat. Looking to the Professor, she saw a small yet indulgent smile.
"Hermione, just answer the first thing that makes sense lass, tis no trial or riddle."
Scrunching up her brow, the young witch briefly frowned at the disappointment she felt before answering from the list she'd formed:
"Time," she stated confidently. "Everything else I can get, or make do without, but I will never be able to make up the time I've lost already."
Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, she turned to see, or rather not see the strange man.
He had disappeared without a sound. On the bench he'd used as a chair sat a small golden... something, attached to a long golden chain.
A sharp breath from Professor McGonagall drew her attention. "Lass, we've got a few rules to cover, but I think we'll be meeting your needs."
Hermione wasn't quite sure what to make of the smile that graced Minerva's face, but she was glad to see it reached the woman's eyes.
.o0o.
December 17th, 1993
Hermione placed the heavy book carefully on the table and stretched. She felt her muscles protesting and she had to keep working her left foot back and forth – it had fallen asleep, again. She knew better than to tuck her legs and yet the position was just so natural and comfortable to read a large book resting on the arm of the squishy chair.
It was quite late once again, though she had not pulled an all-nighter this time. Setting the tome on the side-table she resolved to get some rest.
Twenty minutes later Hermione had eaten, cleaned up and brushed her teeth and was settling into the comfortable bed.
0o.o0
Five minutes after that Hermione slipped into the kitchen and fixed herself a quick snack before crawling into the big comfy chair and pulling the massive tome (feather-light charmed) into her lap. A quick alarm spell later and she was once again immersed in comparisons between the transfiguration and conjuration of inanimate matter.
Hours later the alarm went off and Hermione huffed in annoyance. She was more than half way through the sizable volume and gaining great insights into the subject matter... yet she knew quite well the dangers of messing with her schedule.
Pulling on the long necklace, she took out her time-turner and carefully counted back eight hours. Waiting just a few moments she heard the door to the kitchen and went upstairs to bed. It was so much less complicated when she was alone in the house!
0o.o0
Startled awake, Hermione tried to get her bearings. She was in bed, and a quick tempus later she was sure she was also quietly reading downstairs.
So what was all the racket? Thinking quickly, the young witch realized she could not leave her room. She had to stay here until the other time ran out and she returned to normal time.
Earlier-Future-Library-Hermione would just have to deal with it.
Casting a few of her newly learned spells upon the door the noise stopped completely and Hermione resolved herself to get some more rest.
It took twenty minutes of meditation exercises before she could convince herself to let her... well, let herself deal with it. Later.
.o0o.
The house was in chaos. What seemed like a dozen red-headed boys had invaded her quiet home – well, not her home – but the place she had found some measure of peace these last almost two months.
The 'war', if you could call it that, had been decidedly quiet ever since the last few attacks in late November and those were mostly robberies. Tonight's meeting of the Order of the Phoenix was the first such in weeks.
The Weasleys had invaded Grimmauld place. Hermione knew who everyone was that came into the house, even if she only met them as a courtesy, she never forgot. Hermione knew that the Weasley mother, Molly, would be here to 'get things ready'. The four children (three if you didn't count Percy said one of the twins) were to 'stay out of trouble'.
And thus the chaos. Hermione had been told very explicitly that she was not to use her wand unless under attack. Not even Harry was to know that she even had a wand yet. Remus had even gotten her an Aurors hidden wrist holster and she carried her Vinewood wand everywhere now. The thrum of magic was pulsing through her arm as she held back her desire to Silencio the trio of boys who wouldn't stop taunting one another or sliding down the banisters and generally running amok.
Many times over the years Hermione had wondered if having a brother would have changed her life. Changed it for the better, of course – having someone who by default would want to protect and care for her.
Watching Ronald Weasley with his twin brother's antics dispelled many of her assumptions. A brother might just have been worse than being an only child!
Moving back into the shadows, the bookworm closed the library door and uttered a quick locking jinx. It wouldn't stop an adult wizard for five seconds, but it would hopefully keep the troublesome trio at bay long enough for her to know they were coming.
Looking around the library she took in the holiday decorations. The room was decked out for Christmas and she could see presents under the tree for the dozen or so kids that remained as much in the care of the Black family enchantments as that of their nurses. They were the most traumatized, and yet the resilience of children was definitely showing in the way they were slowly coming out of their shells.
Hermione compared her own progress to that of the orphans. She knew that she had much to be thankful for. She remembered her uttered prayer and had decided that she would not let a day go by without making a point to say 'thank you'; to who she did not know, but she felt that her prayer was clear enough should anyone be listening.
. . .
The alarm went off at the regular time and the young witch was once again stretching out her knotted muscles. Releasing the charm on the door the witch took out her necklace and began the process of sending herself back to her own time.
.o0o.
A/N: Yes, a Time Turner. No, I probably didn't get the details correct. I'm not as concerned about Temporal Physics as I am moving the story forward, sorry if I dumbed it up too badly :P
The date of the Lunar Eclipse has been adjusted to fit my needs. My apologies to the astronomy buffs.
Also there are quite a few things that are purposely left vague. How does Harry apparate? Where is Sirius? Etc... etc.
I'm happy to reply to your reviews via PM. I'm not guaranteeing I'll answer them, but I'll do what I can without giving away the plot.
This chapter's recommendation is a significant departure from the standard HP universe, but very much a Hermione centered series of fics. I recommend One Door Closes, Another One Opens by Vedra42.
Thanks so much to Noble Korhedron, Au Hunter, EmilyWoods, Tellur and free-wall-e for your review of chapter 10.
Though I'm a day late I want to take this opportunity to wish all of you a Merry Christmas, may the meaning of this season bring you Peace.
Next chapter: what does the Solstice have to do with getting Sirius back?
Blessings,
Majerus