Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Time

Standing in front of her, complete with the long white beard, half-moon spectacles, twinkle in the eyes, and obviously alive, was Albus Dumbledore.

"Pro-Professor Dumbledore? Wha- how- you're alive?"

Somehow seeing Dumbledore alive and well made Hermione believe that it all wasn't a dream, however backwards that logic may have seemed. Despair and grief immediately overwhelmed her, but somewhere in her mind she knew she had to remain strong. Her arm that had been holding her wand, which was pointing at Dumbledore, dropped to her side. Her face became emotionless, and her entire being positively radiated apathy.

Professor Dumbledore noted the change and wondered why his appearance had such a dramatic effect on the young witch standing before him.

He chuckled. "Well, if I wasn't I imagine it would be hard for me to be speaking with you."

Hermione blushed, albeit a faint one. Wait a minute, how do I know that this whole thing isn't some kind of trick that Voldemort created? She frowned. Well, she would keep her mind open, but her instincts told her that Voldemort wouldn't pull a stunt like this. If he wanted information, he could use Veritaserum or torture her, and if he wanted to hurt her or kill her he could use the Unforgivable Curses. Hermione stopped her train of thought as fast as she could right there. She would not remind herself of what happened, of what he, THEY all looked like... She needed to figure this out. From what she could tell, if Voldemort was behind this he had nothing to gain except messing with her mind.

Dumbledore was looking at her in a way that made her feel like she was being analyzed. Hermione cleared her throat and said, "I'm sorry, but as far as I know you are dead Professor."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Really? Well, may I ask what has led you to believe this?"

"I saw your body. I went to your funeral. My best friend saw you die from the Killing Curse. That was proof enough for me." Her voice, only a few hours ago full of passion and vigor, was now devoid of emotion and deadpanned.

His brow furrowed as he digested this information. "When was this?"

"About a year ago. Why?"

"Hmmmm... I wonder... Can you tell me what year you think it is?"

Hermione blinked her eyes in surprise, but her face was still impassive. "1997... I ask again, why?"

Dumbledore sighed as if his suspicions had been confirmed, and he was none to happy about it.

"Miss... I'm sorry, you never told me what your name was."

Hermione's jaw dropped, and emotions finally flickered to life on her face. Primarily, shock and confusion. What on earth is going on here? "Professor... It's me. Hermione. Harry Potter's best friend, the know-it-all, the muggleborn, Hermione Granger. You don't recognize me?"

Dumbledore sighed again.

"Miss Granger, I am sorry, but the year is 1976. As you can see, I am very much alive. I do know a family with the surname Potter, but they only have one son, James. I'm terribly sorry, but it appears you have been transported back in time. About twenty years into the past."


Hermione's brain stopped thinking for a moment, and then an onslaught of thoughts and emotions jolted it back to life. The first thing that went through her mind was: This actually makes sense. The next one was: OH. MERLIN. And then she thought: How can I trust him? But it makes sense! The Great Hall was undamaged, Dumbledore is alive, I've already established that Voldemort has nothing to gain from doing this... But if this is true, then what am I supposed to do?

Hermione voiced her last concern out loud.

Dumbledore's face betrayed none of his thoughts, but inside he wondered why she believed this so readily.

"Perhaps we should take this conversation to my office. If you would follow me please."

Dumbledore led her down the semi-familiar path to his office. She hadn't been here nearly as often as Harry, but had made it her business to know where it was in her first year, along with all of the other teacher's offices.

On the way there Hermione's emotions on the surface were once again limited to apathy and unconcern. If you didn't know any better, you may have dubbed her a zombie from the lack of energy the exhibited. But inside her mind was whirring with a myriad of thoughts, primarily what she was going to do about this situation if it was indeed real.

How did I get here? All I remember is... HIM falling... Don't think about it, don't think about it... Wait... those two Death Eaters... they both tried to curse me... They lifted me off of the ground, so maybe one of them was cast wrong and sent me here! Or perhaps it was a combination of the two... I'll run these theories by the Headmaster when we get to his office.

"Licorice Wand."

This was obviously the password, seeing as how the stone gargoyle immediately moved out of the way, admitting both Professor Dumbledore and Hermione into the Headmaster's office. They both stepped onto the revolving staircase, Hermione two steps down from the professor, and waited until they were at the top. The doors opened of their own will, as if recognizing the occupant of the office they guarded.

Hermione had never been in Professor Dumbledore's office before, and used the time from when she sat down in the offered chair to when Dumbledore sat down in his own across the desk to examine the room. Harry had told her about the various little instruments and how he had broken many in his grief at the end of their fifth year. The room seemed very similar to Harry's description, the only difference she could find was that the stand for Fawkes was right next to the Headmaster's chair, and seemed far from his Burning Day. His plumage was a beautiful crimson and gold and the sight of this magnificent bird somehow made the gaping hole in Hermione's heart seem a tiny bit smaller.

By this time Professor Dumbledore had already sat down, put his elbows on the table, and pressed his fingertips together. Hermione redirected her attention from Fawkes, who was staring at her, to the Professor, who was doing the same. It's a little disconcerting how similar their gazes are.

"Miss Granger, if you could please explain to me everything you know of the events leading up to your arrival here, it would infinitely more helpful."

Hermione shifted her gaze away from Dumbledore and stared at one of his various silver instruments, trying to avoid the inevitable. She instead focused her mind upon studying the object, trying to keep her memories at bay. This one seemed very uninteresting, for it looked like a silver sphere, about the size of a baseball, with three spikes coming out from the bottom which formed a kind of tripod for it to stand on. The bottom of the sphere was only about a centimeter from the shelf upon which it stood.

"Miss Granger?"

She sighed, one full of melancholy and sadness. It seems that she would have to relive THAT after all. The idea was not an appealing one.

Hermione slowly turned to face the Professor, tears welling up in her eyes but refusing to drop. She looked down at her hands, which had taken up twisting themselves in the hem of her shirt without her knowledge. Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath, but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. She began looking around the room, trying to find some sort of support without looking at Dumbledore. Her gaze settled on Fawkes, who let out a small, almost imperceivable noise that warmed Hermione starting from her heart to the rest of her body. She smiled sadly at the phoenix in gratitude, and finally looked at the man before her, so much younger than the one she had known, in the eye.

Slowly, bit by bit, Hermione related her tale. She began, not with the Horcruxes, but with Voldemort's attack on Hogwarts. From the way she told it it made it seem as if she had been attending the school the whole time, not running around trying to find the pieces of Voldemort's soul.

As he listened, Professor Dumbledore had to marvel at how much this young woman had been through. He could tell that she was glossing over some details and completely lying about others, but he knew that she was only saying what she deemed appropriate. He respected her already and trusted that she knew what she was doing when she omitted and exaggerated some facts.

When Hermione finished her story she stared at her knees. Now that she had said it out loud, there was no denying it. They were gone.

"Do you remember the colors of the spells or better yet what their incantations were?" Dumbledore asked gently a few moments later.

"No."

Elaboration was not needed, nor was it even asked for. The Headmaster had not expected her to remember, not so soon after her loss.

The aging man sighed and leaned back in his chair as he scrutinized the witch before him who had yet to meet his eyes since she had told her sorrowful tale.

"I am afraid that without any knowledge or even clue as to what spell or spells hit you there is not much we can do to send you back. I would suggest-"

"I'm not going back."

Dumbledore paused and cocked his head slightly in confusion. She had made a statement, not a question. There was no doubt in her voice, which surprised him.

"I did not say that Miss Granger. I said that there wasn't much we could do to reverse the process, but there are always other alternatives-"

Hermione interrupted him once again, and said very softly, "No."

"No?"

"No."

She finally raised her head and met his eyes. "I will not go back. I am choosing to stay here. There is nothing for me in my time."

"Miss Granger if you stay here, you could change the timeline. For one thing, I am sure that is not true, but you may feel so when your grief is so near and palpable. Secondly, there are laws regarding time travel. First and foremost, you-"

For the third time in the space of a few minutes the Headmaster was interrupted yet again by the saddened person before him.

"Must not be seen, I know. The second, do not, in any way, shape, or form, contact your past self. Third-"

This time it was Dumbledore who did the interrupting. "You are familiar with the laws of time travel, it seems. May I ask how?"

Hermione managed to crack a small, although patronizing, smile. "You sent me back in time with Har- a friend of mine to save 'an innocent man from a terrible fate.' "

"Well, be that as it may, and as terrible as this future you have described to me seems, it is-"

"Professor, I apologize for interrupting yet again, but you must understand. My parents are dead. Killed by Death Eaters as he was searching for me, although how he managed to find them- never mind. I don't have any other relatives. My two best friends are both dead as well. The only other people closest to me pale in comparison in regards to how close we are and are not sufficient motivation for me to return."

"Then may I ask why you believe that staying here will be so much better?"

"Not for me it won't. But for others I can almost guarantee it."

Dumbledore frowned slightly. He had an odd feeling he knew where this was going...

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to change the future. Or, more accurately, I'm going to save it."