Here comes Chapter two!

Disclaimer:

I do not own any familiar content, all of Harry Potter is owned by the incredibly talented and beautiful JK Rowling and the amazing Warner Bros! I do not intend to make any money from this fanfic. I don't think anybody would even buy it, so in that area, we're safe. If you try to sue me, the only thing you will get is about thirty pairs of mix matched earrings, because that is all I have. ;)

-o0O0o-

"Ah, Mrs. Granger. I expected to see you sooner than later." Hermione spun in circles upon hearing the voice, eager to find the speaker. The voice was strangely familiar, and she could taste the name on the tip of her tongue-

"Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione yelled and ran over to where the old man was sitting on a white bench. She came to a stop in front of him and looked around. Everything was white; pristine, almost. Hermione could just make out the stone pillars and train tracks of Kings Cross Station. The only difference was the complete lack of people (aside from Dumbledore and herself, of course) and color.

"Professor, where are we?" Hermione asked, finally turning her attention back to the headmaster and sitting down next to him. The headmaster… who died last year! she thought frantically. "Sir, am I dead?"

"At the moment, it seems so," Dumbledore said. "Mrs. Granger, what does this look like to you?"

Aren't we getting a little bit off topic? "Kings Cross Station, just cleaner."

"Interesting," Dumbledore murmured thoughtfully. "Mr. Potter said the same thing just a few minutes ago."

Hermione jumped to her feet. "Harry was here? Where did he go?"

"He took a train, of course!" Dumbledore said.

"A train where?"

"Back."

"Back?"

"Back. Harry, whether he likes it or not, still has a destiny to fulfill."

"He's gone back?" Hermione whispered. "Where can I get on a train?"

"There should be one coming for you," Dumbledore said, looking at an invisible watch on his left wrist, "right about now."

Hermione turned and saw a bright light hover above the rails she took a few steps forward, eager to see her best friend again, when Dumbledore grabbed her wrist.

"This train will not take you back to the present," he said solemnly, "but this is the train you need if you want to see your friends and family again." Dumbledore paused thoughtfully, then pulled out a scroll and wrote a small note. He folded it up, conjured an envelope, and tucked the scroll inside neatly. Then, after sealing the envelope, Dumbledore addressed the letter to himself. Handing the letter to Hermione, he said, "It would be best if I received this when you arrive at your destination. It will explain everything to you, and to me."

"Professor, why would you need to explain something to yourself?" Hermione asked, confused.

Dumbledore waved her off with his hand. She noticed that his left hand was free of the burn mark that had plagued him in her sixth year. "You will learn in time, Mrs. Granger. I have complete faith in you, but you must know that the fate of the wizarding world, with all of the people that you love, is in your hands." Dumbledore said grimly. "Oh, I almost forgot. Will you allow me to see your bag?"

Hermione, with complete trust in the man before her, handed over her satchel. Dumbledore opened the bag and reached his arm in. Under his breath, he murmured several conjuring spells and then gave the bag back to her. "That is a very advanced spell you have on that bag," he said, impressed. "That could come in handy in the next few weeks."

Hermione, not wanting to betray her fear, nodded sharply and took the envelope from Dumbledore, determined not to let him see her hand quiver with fear. Good, she thought. This will help me in the long run.

Tucking the envelope into her bigger-on-the-inside bag, Hermione took a deep breath and stepped into the light.

-o0O0o-

Hermione stepped out of the light, which turned out to be the entrance to the real Kings Cross Station. Right away, she walked up to an officer.

"Excuse me, sir, but what's the date?" Hermione asked the man. His pale skin contrasted greatly with his dark hair and it looked like he had bits of dried milk in the corners of his mouth. The nametag on his shirt read 'Sam.'

"September first, 1944," he said cheerfully, not at all suspicious of her strange sense of fashion.

"Thank you, sir," Hermione replied politely before going off to a quiet corner to see what Dumbledore had put in her bag. 1944? Hermione thought, Why would Dumbledore send me here? Well, first, what happened that was so important that it would affect the present so drastically? She snapped her fingers. Tom Riddle was probably going to school at around this time. I am supposed to stop Tom Riddle from becoming Voldemort. I don't want to kill him though; I'll save that as a last resort, in case anything goes wrong. Hermione nodded to herself, content with her plan, and began rooting through the additions Dumbledore had made to her bigger-on-the-inside bag.

She found a trunk, the seventh year NEWT level books, and some quills and parchment.

I am going to school with Lord Voldemort. If only Harry and Ron could see me now.

She put the books and parchment in the trunk, which she saw was full of clothes and other necessities, and found platform nine. Hermione jogged through the barrier and into Platform 9¾.

Platform 9¾ had not changed. The same red brick pattern was on the walls, and the tile floor was the same tan color; everything was the same since the last time she had boarded the train to Hogwarts, except now, the Hogwarts express paint job was slightly newer and looked a little more shiny than usual.

Hermione eagerly boarded the train, lugging her trunk behind her. It proved difficult, but she finally managed to get it up the steps and onto the train, now she just had to find a compartment. A wave of sorrow washed over her; this would be the first year she would be riding in a compartment without Harry or Ron.

She snapped herself out of the dazed expression she had plastered all over her face and began to struggle down the alley in search of a compartment. She hardly noticed when she bumped into a boy about her age.

"Sorry, I just wanted to use the restroom-" he began, but cut himself off. "Do you need any help with your trunk? You can sit with me if you want, I'm all by myself. My best friend's Head Girl, so she's at some meeting with Headmaster Dippet."

"Um, yeah, that would be great," Hermione said, happy both to meet a new friend and to not have to be seen losing a fight with her own trunk.

"My name's Tyler," he said, swinging Hermione's trunk effortlessly over his shoulder. "Tyler Longbottom."

The familiar surname took Hermione by surprise as she walked behind Tyler's tall and lanky figure. She could see some facial resemblance, but other than the long face (literally, not figuratively) she found it hard to believe that the awkward Neville was related to Tyler, whose movements were almost graceful.

He must be a quidditch player, Hermione thought, watching how easy it was for him to lift her trunk.

"I'm Hermione Granger, transfer student," she said, pleased with the unspecific background she had come up with on the spot.

"That would explain why I haven't seen you around. I know almost everybody," Tyler boasted. "Right in here, Hermione."

The compartments were so achingly familiar, it felt like Hermione had taken a bludger to the stomach. There, Ron. I made a quidditch reference. Happy?

Tyler easily put her trunk above the seats and sat down on one side. Hermione plopped herself down on the other, already exhausted from the day. She looked at her watch and groaned. It was only 11:00. Her heart leapt out of her chest as the Hogwarts express started to move.

Conversation was easy with Tyler, it turns out the girl he was talking about, the girl who was his best friend and Head Girl, was none other than Minerva McGonagall.

Tyler, as a matter of fact, was on the Gryffindor quidditch team; he was a chaser. Yet another difference between Neville and his ancestor. Hermione remembered with a smile how in first year, Neville had gotten his hands on a broom and Madam Hooch had to escort him to the infirmary.

"Whatcha smiling about?" Tyler asked, curious.

"Nothing," Hermione said distantly, and shook her head to get the thought out of her mind. She could not afford to think about her friends and family now. She had no reason to be nervous. She was just going home- where she would have to spend the majority of the year with the most powerful dark wizard of all time.

He's not dark yet, Hermione chided herself. At least, I hope not. How could I keep him from turning if he's already turned?

"Annnnnd here she is!" Tyler said dramatically as a girl lugged her trunk through the compartment door. Tyler immediately helped her out and Hermione could only assume, based on the dark hair in a tight bun, the hooked nose, and regal demeanor that she was Minerva McGonagall.

As Hermione expected, she was a strict rule-enforcer. The one thing that surprised her, though, was that she was also a clever rule-bender. Never breaking the rules, just bending them in a way that made it seem like they were being broken, but actually ending up as just bent.

McGonagall had acquired her rebellious streak through Tyler, who saw her as his greatest (and only) prodigy.

No wonder she had always caught Fred and George. She had been one of them.

Fred and George, Hermione thought solemnly. Then, snapping herself out of her trance-like state, she asked Tyler a question.

"Who is the Headmaster here?" she asked, eager to find out where Dumbledore was so she could give him the envelope and restore the future. Or Present. Hermione had not really worked that part out yet.

"Who, Dippet?" Tyler answered. "Oh, yeah, he's a nutjob. A couple years ago he tried to replace the third years with grindylows. A really psycho."

So that means Dumbledore must still teach transfiguration. It also means that he will be leading the first years in to be sorted. I think I can get to him in line, Hermione thought. But should I tell him the truth? 'Uh, yes, I was hoping to assassinate one of your best students who is still completely innocent but will turn evil and try to kill my friends and I in the future. Oh, and I died. Is that okay for you?'

"Thanks," Hermione told Tyler gratefully. Minerva, after closing the door, plopped down next to Tyler.

"So, what house do you want to be sorted in?" Minerva asked Hermione, leaning forward in her seat.

"Gryffindor is the house of the brave and loyal, right? I was hoping for that." The two Gryffindors opposite of her cheered.

"Just be warned," Minerva said, still laughing, "Gryffindor is also the house of bad singing and food fights!"

Hermione was relieved that Gryffindor had not changed.

-o0O0o-

Soooooo? How was that? Let me know in the reviews pleeeease?