Disclaimer: All rights and characters belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros™. Nothing is mine but the creativity and storyline.
Hermione landed with a thump very painfully into a set of bushes just outside Hogwarts Castle.
"Damnit!" She cursed, stumbling to stand up, her arms getting scratched by the twigs and thorns.
She heard a small yelp from behind her and she realised it was a person. She could have swore at them, but she held her tongue and brushed herself down.
She then heard the one voice she was longing to hear, "What is it, Mr Boggs?" In spite of everything, Hermione still choked out a chuckle. It sounded so strange to be coming from her lips after such a long time of disuse.
"T-There! Behind the bushes!" The boy stuttered, and she heard some rustling as someone tried to get closer.
She turned and stepped out, only to come face-to-face with Professor Dumbledore.
A very younger looking Dumbledore, at that. But the blue sparkle in his eyes was still there, and her heart practically leapt from her chest, of joy.
She beamed at him, restricting the urge to jump up and give him a huge hug. He was there! Really there! Standing there looking at her!
"Professor." She greeted, formally.
Dumbledore just looked confused. "You know me?"
Hermione chuckled again, and found it was easier to release this time. "Who doesn't?"
Dumbledore's modest and embarrassed grin stretched across his lips and Hermione's heart swelled with affection for the old man. Well... young, here. But old as she knew him.
Her smile faltered and she turned very serious. "Sir, what year is it?"
Dumbledore's look of bewilderment came back, and he fiddled with the glasses resting on his crooked nose. "I think you may have hit your head. What on earth were you doing in the bushes? I think you should come see Professor Dippet–,"
"No!" Hermione interrupted, rudely. The anxiety began rising in her chest like boiling water. "I want to talk to you!"
Dumbledore started to interject again, but Hermione cut him off.
"I need to talk to you! In private." She demanded, through gritted teeth.
Dumbledore then only noticed the state Hermione was in. Her clothes were torn in several different places; her skin was dry, sore and bleeding, her hair was matted and pitted in blood, sweat and dirt, she had no wand in her hand and no shoes on her feet. He could not let it be said that he had lost his manners. He quickly gestured the mysterious girl to the castle and ushered her along.
"Yes, yes, of course, miss..?"
"Hermione," Hermione began, sadly, letting Dumbledore gently guide her through the gates to the castle. "Hermione Granger."
Once Hermione had been given proper service, such as some robes, been allowed to wash up, food and drink, she and Dumbledore were prepared to talk. It cannot be said that Headmaster Dippet did not take offence at this, but Dumbledore insisted that they follow Hermione's wishes, as she has clearly been in distraught and may not be of constant mind. Professor Dippet had scanned Hermione then, and she had smiled sweetly, and he hastily agreed with Dumbledore and left them to talk in peace.
"So," Dumbledore said, sitting down on the chair in front of Hermione, "Are you going to tell me how you suddenly appeared in the bushes outside the grounds?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, sir. I think I am."
And it took her just over ten minutes to explain. To explain everything. Everything from Ron and Harry – The Boy Who Lived – to when Snape gave her the Time Turner and that she is really from the future to make things right for the whole human race. Dumbledore listened intently, never interrupting, nodding and humming approval sounds in all the right places. And he didn't seem to think it strange for one second that a seventeen-year-old girl could carry the weight of the world on her shoulders the way Hermione was.
"So, that's everything, sir," Hermione said, breathlessly, once she was finished.
Dumbledore nodded again, and sat forward in his chair, to lower his voice a little. "You are here to stop Tom – the Tom Riddle sat in the Grand Hall right now – from turning into this awful murderer in your future?"
"Yes," Hermione told him, "In your future, too."
Dumbledore chuckled. "I don't think I will be able to live that long, Miss Granger."
Hermione laughed then, herself. She reminded herself of the Philosophers Stone, and Dumbledore's friend Nicholas Flammel. If she succeeded her mission (she supposed she could call it that) then that would never happen, and Nicholas could go on living forever.
But that was a very big 'if'.
"But..." Dumbledore started up again, "...If you are from the future, shouldn't you use a fake name?"
Hermione had considered that. But she didn't see the need, seeing as her whole family were Muggles up until her, so there was no chance any of her relatives could be attending Hogwarts School.
"I am a Muggle-born, sir," Hermione told him, simply, and he seemed to understand immediately.
He waved his wand absently and the Sorting Hat drifted down from the top of the cupboard where it sat to rest gently on Dumbledore's hand.
"Oh, no, sir," Hermione said, panicking a little, "I'm sorry, but I would like to be in Slytherin."
Dumbledore fully understood again, and placed the hat on his desk. "Of, course. My apologies, Miss Granger."
Hermione smiled, and the panic simmering in her gut died down a little.
"How old are you?"
This question caught Hermione off guard. Because through those months of hell, of death and destruction, it had been Hermione's birthday. And she hadn't even realised until she spotted a calendar in an absent house they had been hiding in. She didn't mention anything to anyone, because she didn't feel like celebrating just then. She was seventeen.
"I'm seventeen, sir," Hermione said. Dumbledore seemed to realise what she was about to say, so he sat back in his chair and smiled at her, "But I think it would make life much easier if I was put into sixth year, Professor."
Dumbledore grinned. "Like Tom."
Hermione nodded. "Like Riddle."
She had decided on a small entrance, would do the world of good. She didn't want to be announced to the whole school as a new girl. It would have been easier just to fade into the background.
But, she soon realised, that was hard on the Slytherin table.
She had made extra are to sit about three people away from Riddle, in order to still be speaking distance of him.
He noticed her the second she sat down.
"Oh, my God," He snarled, his cold eyes sweeping her disapprovingly, "Who ordered the exploding girl?"
No one seemed to understand what he was saying, but they realised who he was talking about.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and leant forward on the table. She asked as coldly as she could, "Excuse me?"
Tom made a face like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Your hair! It looks like the hairdryer blew up on you."
There were many sniggers from the table, then, and Hermione just smirked at Riddle.
"At least it blew up on my hair. I see you were unfortunate enough for you to have gotten it on your face."
Then the sniggers morphed to laughs and Hermione leant back on the bench, as if to say 'I rest my case'.
"Wow." A girl said, sitting opposite Hermione. She had jet-black hair, a too-skinny frame, pale skin dimpled in odd, dark freckles, and eyes such a dark mahogany they were almost black. "Well done. I've been trying to think of a good comeback for Tom for ages." She extended out a hand for Hermione to shake, accompanied by a warm, genuine smile that reassured Hermione a little bit. "I'm Eileen Prince."
Hermione took her hand and smiled back. "Hermione Granger."
When Eileen took her hand away, Hermione looked across the table at Riddle, who was clearly smouldering with frustration. He obviously wasn't used to getting back-chatted.
He just glared at her with his sharp, grey eyes.
The boy sat beside Eileen extended his arm out, too. He was quite attractive, and obviously on the Quidditch Team. His build was muscular and stocky, and his hand very large and tanned. His hair was a golden brown, and his eyes a beautifully light blue. His smile was not missing the perfect teeth, impossibly white and shiny. Hermione took his hand, too, and hers seemed engulfed in his.
"I'm Ryker Ray." He said.
"Hi." Hermione said, beaming, feeling suddenly all girly. She knew he had heard her name when she'd told Eileen, so she didn't repeat it.
He folded his arms on the table and raised an eyebrow. "That's Tom," He said, jutting his head out in the direction of Riddle. "His Royal Highness doesn't like it when people outsmart him. I suggest you just ignore him." He winked at her, and Hermione felt all giggly.
But she laughed normally, bobbing her head a little. "'His Royal Highness'? I like that."
Then the boy sitting beside Hermione laughed, and turned to face her. He was built up, too, but not as handsome as Ryker. His hair was a coffee-brown, and his eyes such a green it reminded her of Harry. He didn't offer his hand, but beamed all the same.
"I'm Jackson." He told her. "Jackson Rubel."
"Hello," Hermione greeted, smiling.
"This is Roberta," He said, and a girl with unbelievably blonde hair and eyes as blue as Ryker's appeared from behind Jackson and waggled her fingers at Hermione. "She's Ryker's twin sister."
Hermione could see the resemblance now, and chuckled a little. "Hi," She acquainted Roberta, waving back.
Roberta didn't say anything, just sat back down and disappeared behind Jackson again.
Hermione looked back to Riddle, and saw he was still glaring at her. Someone needs to learn to control their temper...
"So where are you from?" Eileen asked, giving me another warm smile.
Hermione sighed and thought of home. If she could still call it that. She had to get used to the fact that this was her home now. In 1888. Hogwarts.
"...A long way away." Hermione said, so quietly is was almost a whisper.
The tension across the table ran a little high then, and everyone exchanged glances, and no one bothered to ask Hermione what she meant.
The rest of dinner went on with a lot of small-talk, and Riddle barely spoke a word. Hermione didn't risk another glance in his direction. She couldn't bear to see that bitter stare once more.
She knew Riddle would be mean. She knew he would get a little snarky if she ever outwitted him. She knew that he would have everyone else in Slytherin bowing down to him on all fours, but she didn't know it would be that bad.
And it could only get worse.
She didn't know the full extent of it until it was too late...
N/A: Oh my God, I just want to say THANKS SO MUCH for all your subscriptions and reviews, it means so much to me! (: I love you all, really. :D You guys are what keeps me writing. Xxx
This is just about the right size chapter, I think. :P But if you want them smaller or longer, please let me know. Thanks.
Kelly xxx
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