DISCLAIMER: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the sole property of J.K. Rowling. Canon characters and plots are not owned by me nor do I make any profit from this fic.
. . . but a girl can dream . . .
BETA: Many, many thanks to ShayaLonnie for taking on the task of Beta, you're amazing!
23 June 1978
Department of Mysteries
In her life, Hermione Granger had built a wall around herself. It was a fine, tall wall, thick as a castle. She began it in early childhood, when playground bulliescalled her weird and pulled her hair; as teachers spoke of her oddness when they thought she couldn't hear; when her own parents would approach her with such caution after another unexplainable occurrence. She built her wall pebble by pebble, a neat and proper circle around herself to keep the hurtful words and looks away. Inside the protections of her magical ring of pebbles, little Hermione could hide away from it all. When she entered the Wizarding World, her wall grew even more. She built it strong through knowledge and fortified it with the deep belief that she had found where she was meant to be. Inside her wall, Hermione could breathe. Words like "know-it-all" and "Mudblood" could never penetrate it because she'd finally found where she belonged.
That wall was now crumbling.
"Nineteen seventy-eight? You . . . you're . . . No! This is impossible, totally ridiculous. No, no, no, no, no. Seventy-eight?" Her heart was beating in an unnatural statico against her chest. This was not happening. How in the name of Merlin could it be possible for her to be in the year nineteen seventy-eight? She wasn't even born in 1978! "No. I refuse to believe this, it's simply preposterous. No, not at all possible. You mean to tell me I travelled back . . . how many . . . good Godric, that's eighteen years!"
She dropped back into the settee, her stomach suddenly feeling like lead. This was inconceivable. There was no going forward in Time Travel. She would have to wait this out . . . for eighteen years. Eighteen years without her family or friends. Would they even know her if she returned? Merlin, she'd be thirty-five years old . . . she'd be ancient!
The elder man chuckled. "A bit further than you expected I trust?"
"I'm sorry," she fumed as she glared at him. "Did you just laugh? Who laughs at a time like this? Who in the bloody hell are you anyway? He works here," she screeched, pointing a shaking finger at Saul. "You . . . you've never said who you are. Where do you get off laughing at a time like this?"
The elder man blushed, "You're right, of course, it was most uncouth to laugh when you're experiencing this terribly unfortunate event. I must confess, I do tend to find humour in the most unlikely of circumstances sometimes. My late wife found it charming," he said as he bowed his head to her. "I do beg your forgiveness, Miss."
"Fine," she huffed, "but that still doesn't answer the question. Who are you?"
"Of course, my apologies. The name's Potter, Miss," he said bowing over her hand gallantly "Charlus Potter, Head of the House Potter, at your service."
If the walls of Hermione's world had begun to crumble at the impossible realisation that she was displaced in time eighteen years, they now remained nothing but a pile of ruins.
Charlus watched as the young woman's face blanched of all colour, her body seemingly sinking further still into the settee on which she rested. Well, he thought, never had quite that reaction on a lady before. He caught Saul's eye and, with a tilt of his chin, indicated his friend follow him a few paces so they might speak privately.
"So, what do you think? Poor, lost amnesiac and most likely latest occupant of St. Mungo's Janus Thickey Ward . . . or Hummingbird?" Charlus cocked an eyebrow as he rocked back onto his heels.
"You're entirely too smug for your own good, old man," Saul chastised. "Besides, haven't you ever been told you shouldn't name a puppy? It makes it harder to put down later."
"Really, must you be so crude?" Charlus grimaced. "Are you telling me you didn't find her thoughts on Time Travel the least bit compelling? She clearly is aware of its governing rules. Did you or did you not claim obliviation was prudent only if she was unaware of the rules pertaining to Time Travel?"
"You know I did." Saul waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, I find her to be knowledgeable in the area, but I also find her to be a child."
"She's seventeen, a legally recognised adult."
"Barely. She admits, herself, it's mostly due to Time-Turner use and legality does not acquaint responsibility. Would you have called your own son a responsible adult at seventeen?"
"Ha! I'm not sure I'd call him responsible even now, but that is besides the point. This girl was granted a Time-Turner in her third year, a fact that was undoubtedly decided on, in part, by your very division. Would you have made such a decision if you felt the recipient irresponsible?"
"That's just it, we currently allow no such thing," Saul declared. "What could possibly change that would allow a student the use of a potentially dangerous tool? I bet it was Bode's decision he always was an idiot," he mumbled.
"Whoever's decision it was doesn't matter here and now. What does matter is that girl's safety," Charlus declared, pointing at the reclining woman. "I don't feel right Obliviating her. She's aware of the rules; I think it best we present her with the facts. I would be willing to take responsibility for her if need be," he stated.
Saul glanced over to the girl once more and nodded. "So be it."
Hermione watched as the two men argued mere feet away; clearly they had set some sort of silencing ward around them. She watched the older man gesture about as he spoke. If he was to be trusted, and she found she did trust him, he was most likely Harry's grandfather if not some other close relation. She didn't know much about the Potter family other then Harry was the last of it and, like the rest of the Wizarding World, that You-Know-Who had killed his parents on the thirty-first of October, 1981. Four years from now, she gasped, they were still alive. She briefly wondered what they might be doing at that very moment then dismissed the thought. She shouldn't think of those things. Meddling with time might still be a danger, if not to the timeline then to herself. Besides, what would a wizard do if some nutter came 'round proclaiming he and his family would be personally hunted down by the darkest wizard in centuries? No, that wouldn't end well.
The two men approached her once again. The elder man, Mr. Potter, she reminded herself, led the way, a sad sort of smile on his face.
"How are we, little one?" he asked kindly.
"Well enough. I supposed some of the initial shock has worn off. Still, it is extremely disturbing being trapped here in this time."
He nodded in understanding. "Yes, no doubt it is. Saul and I were just discussing your situation and we wanted to stress to you the importance of keeping your true origins secret from those you may come into contact with. We are living in dark times and I can't begin to contemplate what some might be willing to do in order to gain your knowledge of the future."
"I understand, sir."
"Good. Now I must ask, what is your blood status?"
She felt herself bristle at the question. After all she had heard about the Potters, she had assumed they'd be much like the Weasleys and pay little mind to blood status. "What does that matter?" she asked sharply.
"Now, now, don't get yourself worked up," he advised. "While the matter usually holds little importance to me, at this moment it is rather important that we know."
Hermione lifted her chin stubbornly. "Why?"
He chuckled. "You remind me a bit of another young lady I know. She's quite headstrong as well. That's a fine trait, never lose it," he said seriously. "Now, as I said, normally blood status would be of little importance to Saul or myself but in this case, it is. Simply, if you are a pureblood or even a half-blood it would be possible to contact your Wizarding family and, with some explanation, they might be willing to take you on as a cousin or such. You see?" he asked.
She nodded sadly. That did make sense, but it wouldn't help her at all. The Weasleys, though they were just as good as family to her, were simply not. She had no family. No one. She was all alone and she told them so.
"That would make things easier, sir, however, I am a Muggle-born. I have no . . . no place here."
"You are a witch, my dear girl," Charlus spoke softly. "You always have a place here. It would have been easier placing you with family but, rest assured, we will find you a safe place."
"We don't have much time left here, Charlus. It's almost dawn and the other Unspeakables will be arriving soon for work," Saul informed him.
"Yes, very well. As our time here is short, little one, might I make a suggestion?" he asked.
"I'm certainly in no position to stop you."
"Well then, I propose till some more permanent arrangement can be found, you might come to stay in my residence? I have a spare room or two and would welcome the company. How does this sound?" Charlus asked kindly.
"I appreciate the offer," she said, and as it seems I have no choice in the matter, "I accept."
"Well, now that all of that business is settled, how do you proposed we move the girl without her being seen? Surely the night watch checked you in Charlus, but how would you explain your companion when exiting?"
"Not to worry, not to worry," Charlus declared with a twinkle in his eye. "I have just the thing. I know your Floo's are not set for travel, but might I make a call?"
Charlus reentered the room a short time later after making use of the departments main Floo, his face flushed with colour.
"Well?" Saul asked impatiently. "Is this friend of yours coming?"
"Yes, momentarily. He was . . . otherwise occupied, but he assured me he would be coming shortly," he told him before turning to regard Hermione. "Would you allow me to transfigure your clothing before he arrives dear? I'm afraid that your uniform and current disarray might pique his curiosities a bit too strongly and, trust me, we will all be better off if we can avoid that."
Hermione looked down at herself where she sat perched on the edge of the settee. She was certainly a mess with her singed jumper and her stockings torn and caked with dried blood as they were. Lacking a mirror, she could only guess how badly the rest of her had fared. She nodded her consent and felt the tingle of magic brush softly against her skin as her uniform lengthened and altered its shape, leaving her in soft unremarkable charcoal robes not much different to those she had seen young witches wearing from time to time in Diagon Alley.
She lifted her gaze to thank Mr. Potter, and watched as he made a small movement with his wand, a length of green ribbon appearing in the hand he held before him. Hermione nodded her thanks as he handed it to her before carefully using it to pull back the wild tangle of curls which her hair had become. Just as she'd finished, a hurried movement at the entrance drew the attention of the rooms occupants.
A young man stood frozen at the door a jumble of parchments and quills balancing precariously in his arms. A mass of soft golden curls hung over his eyes and he hastily huffed a breath of air trying to clear them from his vision as he quickly took in the three people standing before him.
"Excuse me Mr. Croaker, umm Mr. Potter, sir," he hastily spoke as he dropped his quills and parchment on the nearest workstation before drawing ink-stained fingers through his hair pushing it firmly from his vision. "I wasn't aware anyone was here . . . I, umm . . ." he spoke quickly, differing to Mr. Potter, yet his eyes kept wandering toward Hermione. "I saw no Aurors posted, sir, has something gone wrong?"
Charlus let out a forced huff of laughter before walking forward and placing a friendly hand on the young man's shoulder. "Wrong? Of course not, my boy. Is my presence going to be akin to a Grimm sighting from now on?" He laughed heartily. "I am retired now. I no longer have a hoard of Aurors at my beck and call."
"Oh, of course, sir. Sorry, sir." The young man turned to regather his supplies before addressing Saul, "I'll just set up in the department lounge, shall I, Mr. Croaker? Until your . . . business is taken care of?"
The two elder gentlemen shared a drawn out look between them before Charlus nodded firmly, the two having come to some sort of silent agreement.
Saul raised a hand to halt his movements. "Actually, son. Why don't you and I step into my private office for a moment before you go? I have a few things I'd like to discuss with you."
"Oh." The young man glanced once more at Hermione. "Yes. I understand, sir, protocol." He clutched his supplies tightly to his chest and drew his shoulders back paying no mind to the upturned bottle of ink currently staining his robes. With a nod to Mr. Potter, he turned and left the room followed closely by Saul.
"He is going to be alright, isn't he?" Hermione asked once the two men had disappeared from sight through the open doorway.
"Hmm? Oh, yes, nothing to worry yourself over," Charlus assured her before conjuring up a moist flannel and a small mirror. "Take this dear, you might like to freshen up a bit before my acquaintance arrives."
She recognised the change of topic for what it was and took the small flannel and mirror from him with a gracious smile before setting about cleaning herself up. The sight in the mirror was thankfully no worse than she expected. Smoke residue and small flecks of dried blood marred her pale and lightly freckled cheeks; she wiped them away with wide swipes of the flannel before addressing her tender split lip with more care.
Her mind wandered a bit while she gently wiped at the dried blood caught in the delicate creases of her lip. Was it really only hours ago she and her friends had set out on their ill-fated rescue mission? When she had woken up that morning, her biggest worry had been O.W.L.s and now, somehow, she was facing a life displaced in time far from all she knew.
Her attention was drawn once again to the room's entrance by a flurry of movement, only this time, instead of a fumbling clerk, she was greeted by the sight of a tall young man sauntering confidently into the room. He couldn't have been much older than she herself, yet he carried himself with a graceful ease that seemed to challenge anyone who might doubt his importance. He wore the light blue robes of an Auror trainee, open and freely flowing over black muggle clothing so tight it could have been painted onto his slim frame. The black dragon hide boots he wore reminded her of Muggle motorcycle boots, and his metal studded belt slung low across his hips spoke of the punk movement she had once heard of from her parents.
A bark of laughter broke her from her thoughts and she glanced up quickly, a deep blush flushing her cheeks as she realised she had been caught in her perusal. The young man's clear grey eyes sparkled with mirth as he caught hers momentarily before turning to Mr. Potter. She tilted her head to the side as she watched him address Charlus. There's something familiar about him.
"So, this is the DoM, huh?" he asked as he walked further into the room, his long fingers reaching out to touch small objects within his reach.
Charlus swiftly moved a partially constructed Turner from the path of his questing fingers. "Yes, it is and you would do well to remember it, and do not touch everything," he said moving to block the younger man from grasping an antique looking coo-coo clock. "This is not the sort of place you want to have an accident," he warned with a discreet glance towards Hermione.
He nodded solemnly at Charlus before sending a wink at Hermione. "Of course."
There it is again, an inkling. What was that?
Charlus, seemingly satisfied that the young man wouldn't unwittingly bring the department down around their ears, smiled broadly at him. "Its good to see you, son. The Auror Blues suit you fine."
The younger man beamed brightly at his words before leaning his hips against a workstation and letting his gaze pass over the room — and Hermione — once more. "So, the DoM before the sun has even risen. Going to fill me in?" he asked.
"Not much to do with the Department of Mysteries really. However, if you must know, this lovely young lady here had the misfortune of coming across some rather opinionated friends of ours this evening and has been displaced due to that meeting. She requires a safe haven and I have invited her to stay at my residence till the dust settles . . ."
Hermione listened as the words flowed effortlessly from his lips, there was nothing but truth in them yet he twisted the tale in such a way that Time Travel never played a part. He wove his story smoothly, not even a flicker in his gaze to suggest he was being anything less than completely honest.
She was pulled from her musings by something the young man was now saying.
". . . Cloak in case you're being watched?"
"Indeed, I think it best. The guard wasn't on duty when she came in and we don't need anyone asking questions when we leave," Charlus responded. "Now, we should get to it as the department will be opening for the day shortly."
The young man straightened up and snapped a salute. "Right, straight to business then." He turned on his heel and regarded Hermione with a smile and a cocked brow. "However, pleasantries must be observed." He took her hand swiftly and raised it to his lips as he bowed dramatically to place a kiss at her knuckles, a smile playing at his mouth while his eyes were strong and intense. "My lady, it is my pleasure to serve you. You have nothing to fear . . . "
His words were lost in the chaos that flooded her mind as she was struck by the deadly calm of his eyes. And suddenly she knew. She knew before the words even left his lips, as surely that she was Hermione Granger she knew she was gazing into the grey eyes of none other than Sirius Black.
She watched as the dark calmness left his eyes and the laughter returned breaking her from her thoughts. He still held her hand in his yet now his mouth lifted into a smirk as he addressed her.
"Lost you there for a minute." He laughed. "See something you like?"
She was caught off guard and froze momentarily before squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. "Actually, you have a bit of lipstick, just there," she said indicating his left jaw. " I don't think that shade of pink is really your colour."
He stared at her a moment before letting loose a loud barking laugh and turning towards the smiling form of Mr. Potter. "Oh, keep her 'round till Jamie gets back." He laughed. "Lils will love her."
Charlus laughed lightly "I'll keep that in mind. Now the Cloak, Sirius. We really have got to hurry now before the Ministry begins its business hours."
"Right. Cloak, on it." Sirius reached into an inner pocket of his long outer robe and pulled out a long silvery grey Cloak. The fluid way it flowed from the inner pocket and the glimmer of the fabric left no questions as to what he had just revealed. The Invisibility Cloak. The very Cloak that had played such an important role when she, Harry, and Ron snuck about and solved mysteries and avoided getting into trouble. Here it was in 1978, ready to help whisk her away to a safe place again, only this time with no friends to go along with her. It was bitter sweet.
"It's time, little Hummingbird," Charlus spoke softly as he stood before her, the Cloak open and waiting. "Are you ready?"
She glanced once more around the room before drawing a deep breath, turned into the cool fabric of the Cloak, and released it in a long slow exhale. "Ready."
A/N 2.0
So what did you think? Leave a review and let me know!