A/N: Hi! I'm officially giving you all an IOU for a couple of chapters (for anyone who isn't sure, it means that I owe you some more posted chapters) because my laptop is broken so I've had to retype everything using the paper drafts which (luckily) I saved. This means that updates might not be as often as I'd hoped but I'm trying to get everything sorted by borrowing a friend's laptop and using my libraries computers. I'm super sorry that you're only getting one chapter for now but (unfortunately) it's not something that I could have prevented.

On another note, I have some questions that I'm going to post at the bottom of this chapter; I'd appreciate answers if anyone knows them because they may make Fracture a better story and they'll satisfy my curiosity :P Replies to reviews are at the bottom and I hope you enjoy this chapter, even though there's practically no Tom in it :3

Chapter 3

Hermione convulsed and bit down on her tongue until blood was drawn. Magic raged through her body; carving out a war path insider her that shouldn't have been there.

It had started with the deceptively soothing blue magic, although she knew that she shouldn't know the magic was blue in colour; considering that her eyelids were firmly pressed closed over her eyes. The blue magic had called to her, sang her into a darkness in her mind that tugged her towards unconsciousness. It was peaceful but it was also wrong. It wasn't her own magic and although it seemed nice, it was far too familiar to a Siren from Greek mythology that lured sailors to their deaths.

She'd almost lost herself, let the magic take away her consciousness and the memories that defined her being. She was fading away. The blue magic flowed through her every limb; relaxing her muscles and whispering that it was okay to forget all the bad things.

And then the Elder magic had flared to life.

The fire that came with the Elder magic shot through Hermione's body like a bullet that wouldn't pass out through the other side of her, destroying and smoldering and consuming the blue magic...

At least, she thought it was the Elder magic. Familiarity told her that the magic belonged to her but logic said it certainly wasn't her own magic; she didn't have enough control over it for it to be hers.

So the new magic seemed to be reacting to her subconscious needs –in this case it was protecting her from whatever the blue magic was doing- but it also felt like an inferno, just like that of the Elder magic which had exploded to life when she snapped the Elder wand in half. The reasonable conclusion that Hermione drew was that she was either extremely delusional or it actually was the Elder magic that snatched her out of the darkness the blue magic had dragged her into.

It was impossible, and yet she couldn't deny that it seemed to be the only explanation.

Either way, Hermione was exhausted and sure that she would have collapsed by now if the pain of the two different types of magic eating each other in her body hadn't been making her muscles contract unwillingly.

Something brushed past Hermione's face before pressing her shoulders back down onto the infirmary bed she laid in, stopping her from convulsing. Sounds of crashing and shattering rang in her ears and throughout the room but Hermione was blind and deaf to it all as she focused on what was happening inside her.

The battle between both types of magic increased and with it so did the pain until Hermione felt like she was burning from the inside out. She'd had enough.

But then it stopped.

The blue magic was pulling away and the Elder magic was calming down, now more like a pleasant warmth that erased the aches and pain of her injuries instead of the blaze that it had previously been. A content smile slipped past her lips as she languidly opened her eyes and regulated her breathing.

Her immediate world was eclipsed by an in-depth image of Albus Dumbledore's own twinkling blue eyes.

"Honestly-"she chided before she could stop herself "-do you people have absolutely no sense of personal space? When I open my eyes after writhing in pain for awhile I don't particularly enjoy being greeted by people looming over me far too close for personal comfort, and it's becoming alarmingly frequent! First the healer and now you, professor Dumbledore; I would've thought better of you."

Hermione clamped a hand over her mouth to stop her torrent of words whilst Dumbledore stood up straight and rocked back on his heels.

"Well Miss Granger, I can see that you have made a full recovery." Dumbledore beamed at her, the twinkle in his eyes somehow increasing in twinkliness. "I'm sorry to say however that you may have to excuse the healer; you seem to have –uh- drained his magic quite considerably. I believe that a good rest and a cup of tea is in order for him... perhaps a couple of lemon drops would help too."

She stared at professor Dumbledore disbelievingly as he nodded a dismissal at the healer, who walked out quite a bit paler than when he'd walked in.

"Drained his magic !?" She watched the healer leave and then took a quick glance around at her surroundings. She was in the same bed in the same part of the same infirmary that she'd been in when she'd spoken to Riddle, only now it was a lot more dishevelled than it had been before memories of the final fight had invaded her mind. Hermione's eyes snapped back up to Dumbledore as everything he said sank in "you called me Granger"

"Ah, yes. During your ordeal your memories were... leaking – I believe is the best term. And I happened to pick up on a few of them, unintentionally of course."

Weariness crossed Hermione's face. Dumbledore had always seemed so omniscient during her time, she supposed she now knew why he knew so much. He'd carried around memories of the final battle for all those years. Her memories of what was yet to come. She couldn't even begin to imagine the consequences.

"Bad things happen to those who meddle with time." She mumbled, almost to herself.

"Indeed they do, which is why I have no intention of keeping these new memories."

A sharp look was directed at Dumbledore, who smiled politely back.

"We are going to go to my office -now that you seem fully recovered- and I am going to write letters to myself. With your help I will date them with the relevant time in the future that they correlate to and bottle the memories to be viewed in the future via pensive. I will, of course, also help you gain the necessary paperwork to enroll here at Hogwarts and then I'm hoping that you will obliviate all knowledge of our correspondence from my mind." This explanation was given with the same polite smile from earlier, with no change in expression other than a darkening in his eyes that hinted at a deep sadness.

"You came up with that plan rather quickly, professor." Hermione stated as she sat up too quickly and slid off the infirmary bed with a dizzying sensation. Broken glass crunched under her shoes. When Hermione looked at the floor around the bed she found that there were broken bottles and suspicious looking substances spilt on the ground. That explained the crashing and shattering sounds from earlier.

Dumbledore followed her line of sight for a moment before speaking up in reply.

"I am somewhat of a genius, my dear girl."

Hermione kept her suspicion to herself as she regarded the man who knew that Harry would die. He was a genius, but he still should have exhibited some kind of shock or mistrust that would have been normal for someone to express when encountered with the situation they were now in. Something just didn't feel right.

-.-.-.-.-

It was darker than she expected when Hermione entered the corridor. Only a couple of rays of fading sunlight broke their way through the window panes to light up the stone floor and a few pale stars could be seen if you squinted your eyes carefully. The corridors were empty with only the sound of their footsteps and the odd swish swish of Dumbledore's robes breaking the silence.

Even the portraits were snoring softly.

Hermione loved it. She often sought out the library to keep hold of this kind of hushed peacefulness and although she was reluctant to break it, she still had to ask the questions that were burning in her throat.

"Will the healer be ok, Professor?" She'd never seen or heard of someone draining another's magic before so she wasn't entirely sure of the consequences of it.

"He will be with a good night's rest; don't worry. The draining of magic is a mostly forgotten practice, only used by powerful wizards or witches of the past and even then it wasn't used frequently. I haven't heard of it happening in a couple of hundred of years and even the Ministry were reluctant to experiment with it in the past because it can result in both the initiators and the victims death quite easily, or worse."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, firmly studying the grey stone that passed beneath her feet as she walked. "...It didn't feel like normal magic, sir. It was- well it felt sort of...ancient." It sounded stupid when she said it out loud but it was the best way that she could explain it.

Dumbledore chuckled. "It should do-"he reassured. "- it's an extremely old form of magic and often isn't done consciously, think of it as more like a subconscious reaction. The closest you can get to comparing it to other forms of magic manifestation is wandless magic but without any directing command."

"How do you know all this if it's a forgotten practice?" With this question, Hermione raised her gaze to stare at Dumbledore; she knew from experience that an answer was more likely to be given if you stared at the person in question. It used to always work on her parents before they'd clued onto what she was doing.

Dumbledore was quite for a moment, contemplating. It gave Hermione time to think when she didn't want to think at all.

Her parents... They weren't even born yet. A lump formed and blocked Hermione's throat. Yes, she had obliviated any trace of herself that they could possibly remember but she'd always thought that she could go back and see them after...everything.

If she couldn't get back to her own time, would she ever see her family again? Would she ever find out if the Order triumphed over Voldemort? A feeling of loss settled in her stomach like an unmovable marble stone as Hermione contemplated the chance that she may never be able to get away from this time period. She would never be able to live with a clear conscience again if she was forced to watch Tom Riddle grow up to become that.

The unfairness of the situation suddenly struck Hermione, knocking the breath out of her. Not only had she been unwillingly thrown back in time to a period where practically everyone she was close to wasn't even born yet, she would also have to sit back and watch as one of the Darkest wizards Britain had ever known would rise to power. And she couldn't so anything about it in case she changed time and somehow brought about something worse than Voldemort! Stomping down on the urge to scream in anger at how unjust this situation was, she reigned in her temper and carried on walking.

None of it mattered anymore, it had already happened to her so she couldn't change it unless she found a way out. A determination far more powerful than any she had ever felt before blazed in her chest. She would find a way back to her own time. If she couldn't then she would just have to make the best of a bad situation. Besides, she already knew that there were hundreds of books on time travel in the Hogwarts library, surely there would be one that provided her with a solution.

Hermione had almost forgotten about the question that she'd asked Dumbledore so it made her jump slightly when he spoke up in a reply. "It's a forgotten practice because there has only ever been one record of how to do it in one book which only allows those that are considered worthy to read it." Dumbledore smiled impishly which nearly made Hermione jump in surprise again. "I happened to –ah- commandeer the only copy of the book and I've kept it safe ever since." with her interest peaked, Hermione wondered if he would ever let her borrow it at some point.

"I think it would be best if I allowed you the use of it for a short time though," Dumbledore continued as if he'd read her mind. "I'm sure it would allow you to read it." He also had a foreboding feeling of surety that the young witch would one day need the knowledge contained within the pages of that book.

When they finally reached the wooden door to Dumbledore's office, he opened it and politely waited for Hermione to go in first. It was a mistake. As soon as Hermione caught a glimpse of the room inside she froze in her tracks, gaping. Dumbledore had to struggle to shuffle her aside so he could also step through the doorway.

It was amazing.

Hermione had been to the headmasters' office whilst Dumbledore was in charge and although that had been impressive, it also contained the boring elements of previous headmasters. Whereas this room was pure Dumbledore. It was something else entirely. The walls were all enchanted, the one opposite to her showed the green scenery of the Hogwarts grounds past its bricks and the other three all showed a clear night sky, stars burning and twinkling. A giant model of the solar system composed of various different metals (some of which Hermione had never even seen before) hovered just below the roof; every planet emitted a variation of a whirring sound as it spun, each part seemingly unconnected to the others and encased in a ring of gold that shimmered as it spun the opposite way to the planets and moons.

And the books!

Merlin help her, Hermione could have stayed for days on end just looking at them. She strode across the room to the wall on the left that was covered in shelves of books. An intent light that hadn't been there before lit up her brown eyes as she ran a finger along the spines of some of the books; barely touching them because some of the books looked so old that they'd crumble at the slightest poke.

'Daring Dealings with Dragons' Hermione guessed that the author of that book either wasn't the person who had tried to deal with the dragons or they were severely injured and had a very short life span due to stupidity. 'A Study into the Possibility of Reversing the Actual and Metaphysical Effects of Natural Death, with Particular Regard to the Reintegration of Essence and Matter' (she would have to borrow that), 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. Hermione stopped, stared.

Was this the same book that Dumbledore had left her after he had died? She wanted to pull it off the shelf and tear through its pages to find the deathly hallows symbol. And yet she didn't dare to. How could she be sure that she wasn't changing time just by being in Dumbledore's office? Never mind looking through a book that she would encounter after Dumbledore died. A breath that she didn't know she was holding hissed out between her teeth.

Forcing herself away from the wall of books, Hermione stood by the desk in the middle of the room as Dumbledore took out some papers from a panel in the bottom of one of the desks draws. He peered up at her through his half-moon spectacles.

"Down to business then I presume, Miss Granger? Or Miss Gritt, I suppose."

Hermione nodded in confirmation, refusing to allow her eyes to keep skipping to 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'.

-.-.-.-.-

Headmaster Dippet shuffled the papers on his desk –somehow making the mess look even more chaotic- but didn't pay them any close attention. He stared at the peculiar girl in front of him instead with pale, watery eyes.

"The injuries that you arrived at Hogwarts with, that was how you gained them?" His voice was just as watery as his eyes, betraying the strength that his posture and expression hinted at.

Hermione bowed her head in what she hoped appeared to be a saddened gesture. "Yes." She whispered, just loud enough for him to pick up on. It was around the seventh time that he'd asked her that question, only with a little bit of tweaking in the phrasing to make it seem as if he hadn't asked it before. If he asked again though, she would snap and lecture him.

Professor Dumbledore stood to the right of Headmaster Dippet's large mahogany desk, regarding Hermione with a slightly puzzled look. He knew that the paperwork for the girls transfer was forged and charmed to make the reader only give it a brief glance before they suddenly found something more important to think about. He also knew that he himself had forged and charmed it, but he couldn't quite recall why or when he had done it. She didn't look at him either, like they were partners in a crime that they were in the midst of pulling off. He tried to examine the paperwork for her transfer to Hogwarts again, only to find that he was suddenly enraptured by the remarkably dull walls of headmaster Dippet's room.

"Right-" Dippet said a tad too cheerfully "- you have an outstanding academic record Miss Gritt, our Head Boy will have a rival in you this year. I'd be proud to allow you to be a student here at Hogwarts and I'm sure you will settle in nicely. Now, onto the small matter of supplies; considering the situation that you are in, then I think it more than fair for you to be given a standard allowance of galleons that's usually given to first years. You can go down to Diagon Alley tomorrow with our head boy; I've been told that you've already met Mr Riddle so I'm sure you'll both get on swimmingly." Hermione opened her mouth to protest at Dippet's terrible logic, outraged that he was trying to shove her off to be Riddles responsibility but he continued on; oblivious to her inner turmoil at the prospect of shopping with the Dark Lord.

"We will sort you into a house tomorrow afternoon which means you'll have to get back from gathering supplies by lunch and in the mean time you can stay in one of the spare teachers rooms that we have, Dumbledore will show you where it is, won't you my fellow?" Dippet didn't wait for an answer before clapping his hands together and rising from his seat. Hermione took this as her dismissal and also got up from her chair to walk to the door. "Oh, Miss Gritt?" She turned her head to face the direction of the headmaster, trying not to glare too venomously. "I'm very sorry for what happened to your parents." The door slammed shut between herself and Dippet.

"Terribly quiet that one, isn't she?" he asked Dumbledore who smiled in response before moving to follow Hermione.

They walked together silently and Hermione felt much more uncomfortable than she had been before. Neither Hermione nor Dumbledore broke the silence that weighed down heavily on both their minds as she followed slightly behind Dumbledore (because this time she actually didn't have a clue whereabouts in the castle they were going) and contemplated what to say.

Professor Dumbledore gestured to the door when they'd reached their destination and Hermione opened it to reveal a remarkably unremarkable room. Stopping in the doorway, she made up her mind and decided to barrel through a brief explanation so that she didn't gain the professors mistrust.

"Professor, there's a letter in the false bottom of the third draw on the left of your desk. You should read it. I'm sure it will be enlightening as to the recent... circumstances." With that said, she took her first step into the room and locked the door with her wand. Barely making it to the small bed next to the far wall, Hermione collapsed onto it and allowed sleep to embrace her.

Korel: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEW!I'm glad you like Fracture and that it seems to drive you to speaking French! I can't write/read any French but I can speak and understand a little bit of it and thank you for also putting a translation in the review too; I understood J'adore, Le, FANTASTIQUE and (obviously) the word Fanfiction but that was about it :3 Anyway, thanks for the review again, it really made me smile!

Avalon Kore: Once again your review has left me flabbergasted (if that's actually a word) and with a massive grin on my face :D like that. Don't worry, Tom will gain his revenge on Hermione for being so rude to him, he'll just do it in a really sneaky way :) Don't take this in the wrong way but I'm sort of glad the last chapter almost brought you to tears; it means that I'm writing well enough to evoke emotions (which is good as it makes the story a better read then) and I think all parents use the mind reading trick on their kids, my mum certainly did with me :) Thank you for your review, I absolutely loved it :D

So here are the questions I mentioned earlier: does anyone actually know how old Hermione's parents are? I mentioned that they weren't born yet in 1945 which is kind of presumptuous 'cause I don't really know when they were born at all, I just kind of guessed that they weren't that old even though it's entirely possible that they are :/ Also, can anyone think of a name for the book that Dumbledore gets the 'foreboding' feeling about and says Hermione should borrow? I tried to think of one for ages but still drew up a blank;I can't really tell you what the book's about either (which would help you come up with a name) because that would be a spoiler so it may be difficult. Right, sorry for bugging you all :P I'll get to typing up the next chapters now :)Thanks for reading.