A/N: It's the second chapter! Yaay! Well, I've contemplated a few possible plots and finally decided on one that I think will be interesting and eventful. So stay tuned all you readers! AND I wanna thank all of you who have reviewed so far including:

karine.snake - Thanks for reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last!
tefy - Thanks for the review! Enjoy the chapter and then review!
heavenleigh88 - Thanks for the review! Enjoy this chapter and don't forget to review too!
lauraart123 - Thank you so much for that awesomely long review! I hope that you will continue to review and help me along the way with your great advice. I am so glad that you think my story is as good as Have You Ever (which everyone knows is impossible), but thanks for the compliment anyway! I hope you'll provide me with a great review for this chapter like the last one!
Lady-Delphina - Thank you for reviewing; I hope you enjoy this chapter and review it too!

Again I want to thank the above, and any other reviewers who take some time to review me, I appreciate knowing that you guys enjoy my story! So, on with the chapter!

Disclaimer: I wish I could say that everything belongs to me... well I could, but it wouldn't be true. Only the OCs belong to me. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling. Except for the plot. That's mine too!

Chapter 2:

A 'New' Old Era

Wormtail reappeared at the graveyard where his master had instructed him to go. He broke the Levitation spell he had on Hermione and her body landed with a loud thump onto the dirty ground in front of the Grim Reaper. It was a horrific sight indeed.

A young girl, lying unconscious in front of a statue of the Grim Reaper, did not exactly scream 'pleasant situation.'

"Master?" Wormtail called into the night.

He didn't seem to be there.

Wormtail didn't appreciate this at all. He had hurried to get to this place on time to meet the Dark Lord, and he wasn't even here. The stout man thought many things about the Dark Lord, most of which were not entirely kind.

"Do you really think that of me Wormtail? Do you think that I would honestly be late when I myself scheduled this meeting?" Voldemort asked his servant, suddenly appearing behind him.

"N-no Master, never. I would never think that of you," Wormtail turned around and stammered.

"Oh Wormtail. I have little tolerance for liars. You would do well to stop before I am forced to punish you for your insolence," Voldemort told him, his tone of voice a sickly calm, his red eyes glinting dangerously.

"Y-yes my lord, never again my lord," Wormtail said cowering as Voldemort moved, thinking that he would strike him. But he didn't. Instead, he walked toward the unconscious Hermione, still lying where she had been dropped.

"A Mudblood girl lying on the filthy grave of my Muggle father. Equally despicable, equally unworthy," Voldemort spat as he looked down upon Hermione in disgust, even though he himself was a half-blood. But there was something in his eyes, something that Wormtail had never seen before, some flicker of... sadness? No, it couldn't possibly be.

"Good work Wormtail. Now we can proceed with the plan. You cannot come back through the portal until the task is done, so do not come back for any reason. Should you come back without completing the task, I will make sure you will never see the light of day again," Voldemort commanded Wormtail.

"Yes master. I will not fail you again," Wormtail nodded, his hands quivering slightly with fear.

"Good. This is a most crucial part of my plan Wormtail. I will not tolerate any mistakes! Do anything wrong and I will have your head!" Voldemort yelled.

Wormtail cowered and shrunk back in fear. "Yes my lord!" he said.

"Now, do not forget that you must remain unseen by the Mudblood," Voldemort continued to instruct Wormtail, who nodded in understanding.

"Good. You know exactly what you are to do when you arrive there. Make sure you are not caught, or it will mean death for you."

"Yes my lord," Wormtail said. Voldemort then vanished into the night, leaving Wormtail to do his job. He took out his wand and stood next to the unconscious Hermione. He waved his wand in a complicated array of movements while muttering a long incantation.

He finished the spell, and with a whoosh and a bright red light, a large portal appeared in the middle of the graveyard.

Levitating Hermione once again, Wormtail took one look back at the world in that time, before stepping into the portal, taking Hermione with him.

One of them would not be coming back.

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Hermione woke with a start. She tried to sit up, but quickly sunk back into the pillow and rubbed the back of her head. Pillow? What? She made herself sit up, despite her throbbing head. She looked around and found herself in the hospital wing. How did I get here? Hermione was so confused.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and began to lift herself up off of it when the door to Madame Pomfrey's office burst open.

"Young lady, where do you think you're going?!" Hermione spun her head in the direction of the source of the shrill, high-pitched voice. It was not in fact Madame Pomfrey who walked out of the office, but another healer, older than Madame Pomfrey and completely unfamiliar. "Get back in that bed missy! You're in no condition to leave just yet!" The healer shrieked.

Who is she?

Hermione grudgingly got back onto the bed as the healer quickly scrambled to her bedside. "Lie down, lie down! Your walking around is not going to help the concussion healing potion I gave you earlier," The nurse fussed.

"Can I at least sit up?" Hermione asked the healer, hoping that she wouldn't have to lie down all day.

"Oh alright, but don't move your head around so much, you'll only make your headache worse," she said summoning her a few more pillows so Hermione could comfortably prop herself up against them.

"Excuse me? Who are you? Where's Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione asked, trying not to sound too rude.

"Who's this Madame Pomfrey? I am Margaret McHarding, the healer here at Hogwarts. Now stay put while I get you another potion for your concussion," Madame McHarding said as she walked back to her office to retrieve another potion.

Hermione looked around the hospital wing. It was exactly the same, so nothing had happened.

Right?

Then where's Madame Pomfrey? What in Merlin's name is going on here? Hermione racked her head for any answers as to what the hell was happening, but she had none.

Madame McHarding came back with a big, clear vial. Its contents were thick, purple and bubbling. If it had been a dark green colour, Hermione would have mistaken it for Polyjuice Potion. Back in second year, it had been so disgustingly thick and creamy that as soon as it touched Hermione's taste buds, she wanted to clean her mouth out with the 'Scourgify' spell.

Madame McHarding poured the purple potion into a glass and handed it to Hermione. Reluctantly, she took it from her and smelled it. She quickly drew back in disgust. It smelled just as bad as the Polyjuice Potion, if not worse.

"Well what are you waiting for? Drink up, drink up! You'll never get better if you don't!" Madame McHarding said ushering Hermione to tip the contents into her mouth. Looking at the revolting potion once, she closed her eyes and tipped the entire contents of the glass into her mouth. She swallowed quickly, and a wave of nausea swept over her. She quickly set the glass on top of the bedside table as she nearly gagged at the repugnant taste of the potion. "Well, don't vomit it up now, or you'll have to drink another one, and I'm sure that you wouldn't want that," Madame McHarding said as she took the glass off of the table and went to place it and the vial in her office.

Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't throw up! Hermione shut her eyes tightly and concentrated on not upchucking the potion, because she didn't want to go through swallowing the nauseating concoction again.

After about five minutes, Hermione felt the nausea recede, and she opened her eyes. Madame McHarding was attending to an injured student at the other end of the Hospital wing.

Hermione managed to get a glimpse of the student – a male – who had large red boils on his face and neck, and his tongue was so swollen that he couldn't keep it in his mouth. He looked awful. Poor guy...

"Oh relax Mr. Henry! You'll be fine, it's just a silly hex to induce boils. Nothing I can't fix with a flick of my wand," Madame McHarding said, taking out her wand. She muttered something that Hermione was to far to hear, and a bright blue light erupted from the end of her wand, forcing Hermione to cover her eyes.

When she removed her hand from her eyes, the boy was normal again, and his face and neck were clear of any boils. The student who Madame McHarding had called 'Mr. Henry' got up from the bed, thanked the nurse, then made his way to the entrance of the hospital wing.

"Oh and Mr. Henry, you would to do well to stay out of any hexing duels for a wee bit of a while," Madame McHarding chided with a nod of her head.

The boy just waved his hand behind his head to acknowledge that he had heard what the healer had said and exited the hospital wing. "Kids these days, they're always getting hurt!" she muttered to herself.

Hermione really needed to know what was going on here. I've never seen that Henry kid in my life! Maybe he's new here? He was wearing Hufflepuff robes, so she may have missed him during the welcome feast. "Madame McHarding?"

"Oh yes dear?" the nurse asked, turning from her task of folding washing cloths and blankets.

"Um, I was wondering if I could have a word with the headmistress," Hermione asked. Hopefully she had some answers.

"There is no headmistress here, only a headmaster, and I'm afraid it wouldn't be in your best interest miss..?" the nurse trailed off, for she had not yet learned her name.

"Granger. Hermione Granger. What do you mean there's no headmistress?" Hermione inquired, brows furrowing in confusion.

"I mean what I said. There is currently only a headmaster here at Hogwarts. And as a healer, I do not think that it is wise to do anything at the moment. The more rest you get the faster you can heal," The nurse said, going back to folding the linens.

"Please ma'am, it's quite urgent, I need to speak to the headmaster, or whoever is in charge right now," Hermione pleaded; she was desperate for some answers.

"Oh alright Ms. Granger, but you can only speak with him for a little while. You wait here and I will go and fetch him," Madame McHarding said. The nurse then briskly walked out of the hospital wing, leaving Hermione alone. Hermione then searched her robes for her wand and pulled it out of the inner pocket, muttering the same charm she had on the train a few hours earlier. At least now there was no aftertaste from that horrid potion. Her head wasn't throbbing as much as it was earlier, probably due to the toxic liquid that she had been forced to down previously.

Madame McHarding said that there was no headmistress? Professor McGonagall should be headmistress; she was the deputy headmistress last year, and after Dumbledore's death... she should be headmistress now.

"Yes Headmaster, she seemed quite desperate to talk to you, though I haven't a clue why," Madame Mc Harding said as she entered the hospital wing, accompanied by two old wizards.

Finally, some answers! She had so many unanswered questions that were eating her up, thirsting to be answered. One she recognized was Professor Dumbledore, though his hair and beard were not the silvery white Hermione remembered them to be, they were auburn and shorter.

But how could this be? Dumbledore is dead! Snape killed him on top of that tower in sixth year! What's going on here?

The other man however, Hermione did not know. He approached her.

"Hello there you must be Ms. Granger. How is your head? Margaret has informed me that she had given you one of Professor Slughorn's potions for head trauma. He is a fine potion brewer, so you are in good hands. You'll be better in no time, thanks to him, and Madame McHarding as well of course," The man said. He stuck his hand out and Hermione shook it politely, still having no idea who he was.

"I'd like to speak to the headmaster alone please," Hermione asked, looking expectantly at Professor Dumbledore, itching to ask how he was still alive.

"Well Ms. Granger, here I am. What is it you need to speak to me about?" The man she had just shaken hands with said.

"Wait, you? You're the headmaster, not Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, getting more confused by the second.

"That's right Ms. Granger. Headmaster Armando Dippet at your service," The man in front of her said, bowing slightly.

"Oh, well I meant to speak with Professor Dumbledore, sorry," Hermione said, looking behind Headmaster Dippet to the auburn haired Dumbledore, something she had yet to get accustomed to.

"Yes Ms. Granger what is it you'd like to tell me?" The much younger looking Professor Dumbledore asked, the same distinctive twinkle in his eye shining as he stepped forward from behind Professor Dippet.

"Oh well, um, I was hoping we could talk in private," Hermione said, eyeing Professor Dippet and Madame McHarding slightly. "If you don't mind of course," Hermione quickly added, seeing the semi-suspicious looks on the other two adults' faces. Professor Dumbledore turned around and looked expectantly at Madame McHarding and Professor Dippet. They both nodded and exited the hospital wing.

"Now Ms. Granger, I sense that you are confused. I hope I can be of some assistance. Ask any questions you might have and I shall answer them to the best of my ability," Dumbledore said to her, his knowing gaze fixed upon her.

"Professor Dumbledore sir, you aren't headmaster, and you aren't dead. Why?" Hermione asked.

Dumbledore gazed at her calmly, and after a while answered "You are correct, I am not headmaster, nor am I dead. I am the Transfiguration professor here at Hogwarts," He said in his calm, serene voice.

"What? Where's Professor McGonagall?" Hermione asked.

"I'm afraid, I do not know the person whom you are referring to," Professor Dumbledore said, his voice still as tranquil as ever. It seemed like the more answers Hermione got, the more questions popped into her head.

"Professor, what year is it?" Hermione asked, a theory popping into her head. She didn't like it, but it was the most logical explanation she had for now.

Please say 1997, please say 1997!

"It is the year 1944, September the 11th. You've arrived a little after the first day of the fall term," Dumbledore answered.

Hermione almost fainted.

A/N: Now I know you're all wondering "Where's the Tom/Hermione action?! I want Tom and Hermione!!" but you just need to wait and let the story play out. I'm simply laying out the ground floor if you must, and the more I put down before the real romance begins, the more romantic and sweet the future chapters can be. So that is part of my little weave of plans for TLL, so be patient! And click the review button because it LOVES YOU!

With love,
Elle Cee