Hermione fell down, down, down. Wind rushed past her, fanning out her curly hair. Voices continued to move around her, but the wind howling in her ears made them impossible to understand. Amidst her panic, Hermione felt similar to Alice falling down the rabbit hole.
When Hermione managed to turn her head to the side, she saw what appeared to be various lives flashing before her eyes. A child helping his mother put clothes up to dry. A husband smiling at his wife while their daughter chose her wand, her brother standing close by. A woman, frazzled from stress looking away from her work and smiling. A group of friends. A green light.
Through the frenzy, Hermione experienced another sensation. It was not unlike apparition. She was being squeezed through a tube, her body shrinking and distorting. Her emotions fluctuated and she lost her calm exterior. Her hands moved in front of her face as she fell. Hermione saw the dimpled hands of a child, not that of a woman.
The shrinking and squeezing continued. Pain began to shoot up her body. She felt the scar on her arm split open and agonizing pain hit her chest. Fear clouded her vision, blinding Hermione to the fact that ground was slowly growing closer and closer. Green, over-grown tufts of grass seemed to rise higher and higher. A force began to act against Hermione, breaking her fall. Soon, she felt more like a feather drifting downwards. Her robes were too large and billowing against her shrunk body. She hit the ground with a soft thud. The voices stopped.
"Dad! Dad, come help!" Hermione heard a boy shout. She then heard the frantic thud of little feet on the grass.
"Oh my! Remus, love, are you okay?" A woman's voice sounded. "Yes, Lyall, there's a girl here. Come stand by me, dear."
Hermione stirred and attempted to sit up before falling back down into the grass. Remus? Did she hear that correctly? She tried to open her eyes, but she was in pain and groggy from her fall. I must be dead, she mused. I've died and I'm in heaven. Remus is here. Fred, Moody, Dumbledore, Sirius, they must all be here somewhere. Hermione felt someone pull her into their arms.
"Hush. You're alright. You're safe," the calming voice of a man spoke. Rocking Hermione back and forth, the man gasped as he examined her broken body. "Your arm," he whispered, seeing MUDBLOOD raw and carved into her flesh.
"Hope, grab the dittany from the kitchen! She's been hurt! Remus, go help your mother."
"Where am…" Hermione tried to speak, but pain and exhaustion overtook her. She managed to open her eyes slightly and saw Professor Lupin stare back. "Prof- "
"Shh. It's alright. You're going to be just fine," the voice soothed. "Dormientes "
With that, Hermione's vision darkened. Against her will, she began to fall asleep. No matter how hard she tried to fight, darkness came. Vaguely, she felt herself being lifted off the ground and moved. She paid no mind to the sensation.
—
Hermione shifted, the heavy weight of blankets pressed against her body and something shifted atop the covers. Absently, she swatted at the mysterious thing.
"Crookshanks, geroff. Trying to sleep…" Hermione mumbled, rolling over.
"I'm not a Crookshanks," a confused voice sounded.
Confused herself, Hermione's eyes flew open and she turned to face the voice. There sat a familiar face with fewer scars and age. There was no mistaking him—Remus Lupin in the flesh. All amber eyes and floppy hair.
Panicked, Hermione pulled the covers to her chest and startled away from the boy. "Impossible," she gasped.
Just then, a beautiful woman with a kind face and the same amber eyes walked in carrying a tray loaded with tea and biscuits. "You're up, thank goodness! Remus here's been worried sick keeping watch. Are you alright dear? Quite the show of magic I must say. At least, I suppose it was from what Lyall's told me. I'm Hope, by the way," Hope said, her voice thick with a Welsh accent.
"I'm-I'm Hermione," she said, attempting to stay calm. "What happened?"
Hope's smile flickered. "We're not quite sure, dear. We were hoping you could help us fill in the pieces. Biscuit?"
Hermione gratefully took a biscuit from the plate. When she brought it to her lips, she saw the bandages that adorned her arms. Looking down, she also noticed bandages around her torso, the bulk of the gauze visible underneath her nightdress. Piece by piece, she remembered the events leading up to this moment.
"Am I dead?" Hermione gasped, dropping the biscuit.
"What? Goodness no!" Hope leaned towards Hermione, checking her forehead for warmth. "Thankfully not. You don't remember what happened to you? We found you in quite the state."
Deciding it best to feign memory loss, Hermione solemnly shook her head. She was going to speak as little as possible until she found out exactly what was going on, and why she was currently sitting next to a young Remus Lupin with his mother looking after her.
"Not to worry dear. It's all over now. Remus, stay with Hermione. I'm going to tell your father she's woken up," Hope said before standing up and leaving the room.
Remus sat there silently for a few minutes, just staring at Hermione. He nervously fidgeted back and forth, looking as if he was bursting with questions. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he settled on holding out his hand and saying: "hello, I'm Remus."
"Yes, I know," Hermione said while shaking his hand. Remus flushed as he realized, of course, she knew his name, his mum already said it several times in front of her.
"I'm…not really used to talking to other children," Remus said nervously. "Mum and dad don't let me."
"Why's that?"
"It's nothing," Remus said quickly, realizing he'd made a mistake. He switched gears, "it was really scary, you know. You falling from the sky bleeding like that. I thought you were dead until you started to move."
"I thought I had died," Hermione replied quietly.
"We fixed you up, though! Well, my dad did. He's good at fixing people up," Remus said, breaking eye contact with Hermione as he said this.
Hermione resisted the urge to pull the boy into her arms. This Remus didn't carry the burden on his shoulders, weighing them down, but she could still see the pain in his eyes and the careful, nervous way he held himself. It was heart-breaking to see those emotions play out on a boy who couldn't be older than nine or so.
"How old are you?" Hermione asked curiously.
"I'm ten!" Remus proudly said, puffing up his chest. "How old are you?"
"I-" How old was she? "I don't know."
"How do you not know?" He asked.
"I-" Hermione trailed off.
She and Remus returned to silence, awaiting the return of Remus's parents. Off in some other room of the home, Hermione could hear quiet voices. After a few more moments of silence, however, the voices grew louder and footsteps could be heard moving through the house. Then Lyall popped his head into the room.
"Remus, could you help your mother and me? Hermione has a guest," he said.
"Who's the guest?" Remus asked curiously.
"Remus," Lyall said sternly, face relaxing as his son stood up and followed him out of the room.
Then, to the shock of Hermione, Dumbledore entered. He was much younger than Hermione remembered him being. He was still old, but the lines in his face weren't etched so deep and his beard was a good foot shorter than his older (dead) counterpart.
"Professor?" She gasped unthinkingly.
"Ah," Dumbledore smiled, sitting in the chair Remus just unoccupied. "Most strange indeed. You appear to be a muggleborn, but know who I am?"
"I-" Hermione shut her mouth, a debate mentally raging inside her head. She remembered all the trouble Dumbledore had caused Harry. All the manipulation and lies. She also remembered his help.
"And," Dumbledore continued, smiling as if he were oblivious to Hermione's internal war, "I also know that there was no Hermione Granger down for Hogwarts until two days ago. Either you've suddenly appeared into existence, the book made a mistake, or you haven't even been born yet…and it would seem, judging by your expression, that the latter is correct. So tell me, Miss Granger, how did you come to be here?"
Hermione adjusted herself to sitting upright and making herself appear as large as possible. "You see Sir, I'm not entirely sure myself. I work in the Department of Mysteries."
"You look no older than ten, my dear girl."
"That's just the thing, Professor. I'm thirty, and I think I must be dead. Everyone I've seen so far-" Hermione abruptly cut off. It didn't matter if she was dead, in the past, or in an alternate world, rule one: don't reveal the events of your timeline.
"Is deceased in your world?" Dumbledore asked, blue eyes gleaming with fascination over his half-moon spectacles. "How interesting…"
"I shouldn't be speaking," Hermione said.
"Oh, it's far too late for that," Dumbledore mused. "I do believe that as soon as you entered, your past and future ceased to exist. I can assure you, however, that you are very much alive."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Well, Miss Granger, I think I would know if I were dead."
"No-not that. That my world no longer exists."
"It depends on how you entered this world. Time-turner?"
"No, sir," Hermione paused, "…a veil. In the Death Chamber of the Department of Mysteries. I was assigned the translating of a book and was careless."
"You do not strike me as the careless sort. You must have cared very much about what was contained behind the veil."
"Who…"
"Or whom," Dumbledore amended. "I am not familiar with the magic behind the veil, but I assume it is very different from a time-turner. You see, even before you spin a time-turner, the change has already taken place. You already exist in the past, but it is still the present. Even though the precise time-travel will occur in the future, it's already written in stone. You will travel to the past. All events that you change by going back, already have occurred in your present. As it were, what will happen, has happened."
"But how does that explain the veil?" Hermione asked, clinging to Dumbledore's every word.
"That, as I mentioned previously, is something very different. It seems to me that since your name just appeared, you were plopped into this timeline—not a precise event. This would mean that your world is one different from this. A new timeline has been created with you now existing here instead of there. You are the Hermione Granger of this timeline, and no other you can exist. Time will erase a paradox. The future you know is erased, malleable," Dumbledore explained.
"You, you mean I can change it?" Hermione asked, already brainstorming.
"Depending on the timeline, you may not need to change anything."
"Does Voldemort exist here?" Hermione asked abruptly, before continuing fiercely, "if he does, I have to change everything."
"He is not defeated? I had hoped otherwise." Sorrow filled Dumbledore's voice.
"He is, but not without extreme suffering. I know how to defeat him!" Hermione exclaimed, jumping into action mode. She would not grieve for her lost friends, not if she could make their lives better. Give Harry the family he deserved…
"It is not that simple," Dumbledore sighed, sounding ancient. "With a different timeline comes the potential for a different way to defeat him. Your existence has already changed even the littlest of details. We do not know for certain whether your knowledge will still hold true."
"But, Sir!" Hermione protested, sounding outraged. "If there's a way, surely we must- "
"Not until we've done the research, I'm afraid. We could make the outcome better than your future, or we could just as easily make it worse. Our first step in this whole conundrum is situating you into this world with none being the wiser. Then, we may discuss the downfall of Voldemort," Dumbledore said calmly.
Realizing when she had to admit defeat, or at least devise a strategy on her own, Hermione acquiesced. "Fine. And how do we go about situating me into this world?"
"Well, we are fortunate that you have landed where you did. The Lupin's are good people, as you are probably already aware. Their son has a unique condition," Dumbledore waited for Hermione to confirm her knowledge of this, "and his mother is a muggle, which makes placing you even easier. From now on, you will be the muggleborn relative of Hope. And, given the recent surge in attacks against those who are not pureblood, your family has been murdered, causing you to use your budding magic to apparate to the Lupins. With you being a child in need and a relative of Hope, the Lupins take you in and raise you as their own alongside Remus."
"Will they agree to that?"
"Why, they already have," Dumbledore said. "I have informed them that your family was murdered and that you are orphaned with neither memories of the attack nor your family. Hope Lupin was in tears and begged me to let you stay with them. They believe that I am currently explaining magic and the situation to you."
Hermione was speechless. "I know things about Remus though. What happens…"
"Remember, what happened no longer exists. The potential is there, but the probability is severely lowered. The new history of Mister Lupin is yet to be written," Dumbledore reminded Hermione. "Speaking of written, I have a few official pieces of documentation should you choose to accept the Lupins as your new family."
"Yes, I-of course," Hermione said, watching Dumbledore pull out a blank parchment from his emerald robes before tapping it with his wand, the inky words to a contract appearing. Smiling, Dumbledore pulled out a quill and ink, offering the two to Hermione. She read over the contract and signed. Somewhere in Hogwarts, the registry glowed and Hermione Granger changed into Hermione Lupin.
—
"So you're going to be my new sister?" Remus asked, face etched with worry.
"That's right. And don't look like that," Hermione said primly, "I know all about you being a werewolf."
She thought it best to get that furry issue out of the way. Then she could work on Remus growing up without the self-hatred she remembered from his other life.
"You what!" Remus exclaimed, looking up at his dad who merely smiled, "you don't mind?"
"Well, you don't seem very scary," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose.
"You're muggleborn though! You don't know anything about werewolves. I-I'm a monster," Remus insisted sadly, dropping his voice so his mother and father couldn't here.
"Don't be stupid," Hermione said. "There are far more grotesque things in this world than a boy with overgrown hair and worn-out jumpers."
"You don't talk like a kid," Remus pointed out, deciding to ignore Hermione's comment on him not being scary; she just didn't understand.
"I'm precocious," Hermione sniffed, turning up her nose and walking over to Hope to help with cooking dinner, leaving Remus to look forlornly at his father who was attempting not to laugh at Hermione's response.
"I think Hermione is going to be good for you, Remus," Lyall said, smiling at the frowning boy. Jokingly, Lyall moved his hands to Remus's mouth and forced the boy's mouth to turn into a smile.
"I guess she's okay for a girl," Remus announced, maintaining his smile as he pushed Lyall's hands away. Despite his attitude towards the girl, secretly he was overjoyed. Sure, she had no idea what being a werewolf meant, but she hadn't recoiled. She'd looked at him like his parents did, not like the witches and wizards in the countless villages they had moved from once the secret came out. Perhaps he wouldn't be so alone.
—
A few weeks passed and Hermione adjusted quite well to the Lupins. She loved this glimpse into Remus's life. Hope Lupin was one of the kindest women Hermione had ever met, she was often reminded of Molly Weasley. Lyall Lupin was stern at times, but also friendly and loved cracking jokes. Remus had traits from both parents and then some that were all his own. After the surprise of having a new sister and learning she didn't care if he was a werewolf, the boy expressed his full elation and came out of his shell, excited to have someone his age with whom to play.
Every day after breakfast, Remus would drag Hermione outside to explore the woods around Lupin cottage. The cottage was on the very outskirts of a wizarding village in Newborough, Wales. A good distance away from Holyhead, the second largest wizarding settlement in Wales and home of the Holyhead Harpies, but not so far as to cause Hope Lupin to be without a job.
Before Remus dragged Hermione out of the kitchen, Hope and Lyall would kiss the two children goodbye on the foreheads, tell them to be good and behave, and head out to work. Lyall would magically set the fireplace ablaze and floo away, while Hope would grab the keys to a shabby car and drive up to Holyhead where she was an insurance officer.
Then, the moment Lyall disappeared and Hope drove off, Remus would spring into action. Hermione would giggle as the boy yanked on her sleeve and guided her out to the forest. Hermione was surprised to learn that Remus adored magical creatures. The forest was full of them, and Remus would point out various magical and non-magical creatures that roamed the woods. His favourite spot was an old oak tree where a colony of bowtruckles resided.
Every time he and Hermione travelled into the woods, he would guide her to the old oak tree and they would sit and play with the bowtruckles, and the creatures would immediately start sniffing Remus's worn-out pockets for doxy eggs and other treats. This particular time Remus and Hermione were there, a few new-born Bowtruckles, Hermione was unsure if that was the right terminology, made an appearance.
"I'm going to name you Phillip," Remus said, sitting cross-legged and examining one of the new, tiny Bowtruckles.
Hermione laughed as she played with her own collection, "why Phillip? What if it's a she?"
"Then Philip would make a lovely girl's name," Remus replied. "What are you naming that one?"
"Hmm…" Hermione thought for a moment, "I think Doris suits her."
"What if Doris is a boy?" Remus teased, causing Hermione to stick out her tongue at him.
It was strange, Hermione thought. Mentally, she was thirty. Physically, she was ten. At times, it felt more like Auntie Hermione playing with her nieces and nephews than child Hermione playing with other children. Dumbledore said he would find a solution to match her mental self with her physical self, and she hoped he would find a way soon. It was exhausting doubting whether she was acting like a proper ten-year-old or reflecting her actual age.
Hermione and Remus played in the woods a while before heading back. The dog days of summer prevented the two from having a good understanding of the time, but as they approached the house they noticed their parents were clunking about the kitchen. When the two children entered the house, they saw that Hope and Lyall were not alone. Dumbledore sat at the table, sipping tea from a floral cup and wearing robes of dark blue with swirling stars. That man had impeccable timing and fashion.
"Ah, Hermione," Dumbledore smiled. "I hope you are adjusting well to your new life?"
"Yes, sir," Hermione replied. "I feel right at home."
Hermione saw Hope smile in her direction at these words.
"Excellent, excellent. Would it be a bother if I had a private word?" Dumbledore waited for Hermione to agree before standing up and leaving the room with her in tow.
"Do you have it, Professor?" Hermione asked as soon as the door closed behind them and Dumbledore cast an imperturbable charm.
"Indeed, I do. Professor Slughorn whipped it up for me this morning," Dumbledore said, pulling out a small vial with orange contents swirling inside.
"And it won't affect my memories?"
"Not at all. Upon drinking, you'll only feel a mild headache as your mind slowly immatures."
Hermione took the vial from Dumbledore and uncorked it with a small "pop". She smelt the liquid before deciding it seemed safe and drinking the contents. Immediately, a pressure grew inside her head and a headache made itself known.
"You weren't kidding about the side-effect, Professor," Hermione said.
"Unfortunately, no. Owl me in the morning with the results and if something goes wrong, I'll be over again. Until then, I have business that I must attend to, as it's almost the start of term," Dumbledore said smiling pleasantly. Then, he walked back into the kitchen with Hermione, made his goodbyes, and apparated out.
"What was that all about, dear?" Hope asked Hermione as she set the table.
"Oh, he just wanted to make sure I was doing alright and if I remembered anything about the…the attack," Hermione replied, moving to the stove to help Lyall cook.
"Do you?" Remus piped up curiously, ignoring Hope hissing Remus!
"No," Hermione said sadly, "but I think that's a good thing."
"I think so too, love," Lyall said. "Now let's get this food onto the table."
—
After Dumbledore's potion worked wonders on Hermione and reverted her mental maturity to that of a ten-year-old girl, things became much easier. She felt more on the same wavelength as Remus, and even though her memories were still there, the potion removed the barriers she put up. As the months passed, she started to view Remus truly as her brother, not her old, dead professor. To her, that version of Remus no longer existed. Sure, she would feel homesick at times, longing for Ron and Harry, missing her huge family, but then she would remember how much she could help them. George would never lose his twin; Molly would never lose her son. Harry would have his parents and never be the chosen one. The list went on and on.
Besides, Hermione had a new family. Whenever Hope hugged her and read bedtime stories, or Lyall spun her around as she giggled, or Remus dragged her into the woods to play, she knew. Even when Remus had to transform and was locked into a protected shed for the night, she stayed up with a worried Lyall and Hope and watched over Lyall healing Remus in the morning. By the time Remus's eleventh birthday rolled around, Hermione had been with the Lupin's just shy of a year.
"Hermione, love, grab another plate," Lyall said as he set the table. Remus's favourites were atop it.
"Sure, dad!" Hermione called back as she stood on tip-toe to reach the plates.
"Hope, the cake's going alright?"
"Nearly finished!" Hope announced as she worked on frosting a chocolate cake.
"I don't know why I couldn't just use magic for it," Lyall grumped.
"And where's the fun in that? Hermione, could you get Remus from the woods? He's found a magical cat thing." Hope asked Hermione, who nodded and ran out towards the forest.
She ran through the woods, looking left and right for Remus and a kneazle. Finally, over the sound of a brook, she heard a meow and a laugh. Remus sat against the riverbank with an extremely fluffy brown kneazle who had large, bat-like ears. The kneazle was rolling all over the ground and pushing against Remus.
"I think he likes you," Hermione said with a smile, laughing as Remus jumped.
"I think so. Most cats don't; I guess they smell dog on me," Remus said, returning to petting the kneazle. His movements were precise due to his tired limbs and he wore a sallow complexion due to the upcoming moon.
"Mum and dad are ready for you to come back," Hermione said.
"You know, it's really not a surprise when they push you out of your home for an hour so they can finish cooking and preparing."
"They try," Hermione said, offering her hand to Remus and helping pick him up. "Let's have your kneazle tag along?"
"Would you like that?" Remus asked the kneazle, who yawned and Remus interpreted that as a 'yes'.
Picking up the fluffy creature, Remus joined Hermione and they started walking back to the cottage. The kneazle purred in Remus's arms the whole journey while Remus and Hermione chatted and joked around. When they reached the house, the two rushed inside.
"Dad! Remus got a pet in the woods! He's lovely too!" Hermione exclaimed as she rushed into the kitchen before Remus. There sat Albus Dumbledore, giving Hermione serious déjà vu. Her parents looked excited in the background, though.
"I'm sorry. I did not wish to intrude on the festivities, but I have a gift for Remus," Dumbledore said smiling kindly.
"A gift? For me?" Remus asked, placing the kneazle onto the floor.
"I have a letter for you, to be precise," Dumbledore said, pulling a letter with emerald ink out of his robes, now a startling shade of fuchsia, and handing it to Remus.
When Remus read the outside of the envelope, he gasped. "Is this-am I?"
"Open it, Remus," Lyall said with unconfined joy and pride.
Remus obliged and opened the envelope. "Dear Mr Lupin," Remus started, "we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
Remus was shaking with excitement. "Is this real?" He demanded.
"It really is!" Hope exclaimed, cutting Dumbledore off. "The Professor's just finished explaining everything."
"What about the full moon?" Remus asked.
"We're planting a magical tree called the Whomping Willow," Dumbledore explained. "The tree protects the entrance to a small shack the locals believe is haunted. Am I presumptuous in assuming your acceptance?"
"Yes! I mean, no! I accept!" Remus's grin spread from ear-to-ear. Hermione gave a bright laugh seeing Remus's joy.
"I have this for you as well, Miss Lupin," Dumbledore said to Hermione, handing her another green-inked envelope.
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said with a grin.
"Looks like you're not getting rid of me yet, Remus!" She exclaimed, turning to the boy. He was reading his letter over and over, hardly believing his eyes.
"That's fine by me!" He said, eyes still glued to the parchment.
In the silence of her children reading their letters, Hope spoke up. "Will you join us for tea, Professor?" She politely inquired.
"I'm afraid I cannot. I wish you a very happy birthday, though, Remus," Dumbledore said with a kind smile as he rose from his seat. He approached the fire, threw in some floo powder, and delicately lifted his fuchsia robes before stepping in.
When Dumbledore left, Hermione tore open the envelope containing her own letter. It was exactly like the one she received her first time around. The only exceptions being her name, the booklist, and no warning for first years hoping to bring broomsticks. What would Hogwarts be like the second time around?
