"No…" Hermione whispered in horror.
She looked down on the man she was clutching in her arms. The jagged gashes on his face, seeping blood, made him almost impossible to recognize. She glanced at the fiery red hair and lifeless, blue eyes staring back at her. A flicker of recognition, and then she screamed.
"RON!" she screamed over and over.
She held him close, searching for any sign of life. Someone grabbed her arms, attempting to drag her away, as flashes of green and red flew overhead.
"No!" she screamed.
They started to shake her forcibly. "Hermione!" Her eyes snapped open. She blinked in confusion as she looked up at the worried expression of a girl with flaming red hair.
"You were having a nightmare again." Ginny said softly.
"Oh…" Hermione sighed, wiping the beads of sweat off her brow.
A year had passed since the final battle at Hogwarts, but she relived its horrors every night. They had lost the war, and the lives of almost everyone they loved. Harry had sacrificed himself for nothing. Ron had been mauled to death by Greyback. Neville was ripped to shreds by Nagini. Ginny watched her parents die at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange.
Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep the horrifying memories at bay.
Ginny walked back outside, and Hermione could see her steaming mushrooms on the campfire. She guiltily realized that Ginny must have foraged them early in the morning. They had run out of supplies a week ago but had been delaying venturing out to replenish their stock. Both Ginny and Hermione had grown dangerously thin. Hermione was no stranger to living in a tent, but what she was not accustomed to was the lack of purpose— the lack of hope.
Ministries of Magic around the world had fallen. The International Statute of Secrecy was brought to an end, and Muggles were enslaved, tortured, or killed under the new regime. Muggle-borns were forced to admit they stole magic and sent to Azkaban. Blood traitors had to submit to the new world order or suffer the same fate as Muggle-borns. Few resisted and even fewer were left; most having been hunted and executed. The last surviving members of the resistance had gone into hiding. They kept a low profile by limiting their use of magic and communicating through burner Muggle phones. They could only use their phones outside their circle of defensive enchantments, but they at least had a method of communication that went undetected.
"Ginny, I'm going to check for new messages." Hermione said, tucking her wand in her back pocket.
"Alright, be careful."
"I will." It was always unnerving to step out without a Disillusionment Charm. But they were in a remote forest in northern England. They were as safe as they could be.
As soon as she stepped outside their campsite, she flipped open their phone. There was one new message.
Royal: "Send coordinates. Must meet soon."
Hermione frowned. What could Kingsley want? The members of the resistance hadn't seen each other in quite some time. It had become dangerous. They had split up in order to prevent a member betraying the entire resistance.
She hurried back inside the tent.
After some quiet contemplation, Ginny finally spoke, "I think we should reply." Hermione looked at Ginny's tired, empty eyes.
"I already lost my entire family. What more do we have to lose?"
Hermione nodded in solemn agreement. If this was a trap, so be it.
She texted back,
Otter: "55.208°N 2.528°W"
Hermione was tossing and turning in bed, dwelling on Kingsley's message. She had just succumbed to sleep, when she heard a noise outside.
CRACK!
Hermione bolted out of bed, wand in hand. She used her other hand to gently wake Ginny. "Someone's here," she whispered.
Hearts pounding, the two girls slowly stepped outside their tent with their wands out. They could barely make out two figures pacing in the darkness.
Hermione glanced over at Ginny. She nodded, and they stepped out of their enchanted campsite.
"Incarcerous!" Thick ropes shot out of Hermione's wand, binding and gagging the figure on the left.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Ginny casted simultaneously, and the figure on the right dropped down, stiff as a board.
They cautiously approached the two figures. "Lumos" Hermione whispered, illuminating their faces.
Kingsley, bound and gagged, looked back at them with understanding. Despite having been on the run, his deep purple robes were immaculate and his signature gold hoop earring glistened in the moonlight. She looked over at the other figure, a middle-aged man of average build, who was as equally well-dressed and sporting a salt-and-pepper beard. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place him.
With a flick of her wrist, Hermione removed the ropes gagging his mouth. "What did you give me the last time we met?" she asked.
"Moody's Foe-Glass," he quickly replied. "What did you tell me before we got on that Thestral?" he asked in return.
"I'm not sure I prefer him over a broom," she responded with a small smile.
Both witches reversed their spells, and the two men stood and dusted themselves off. They led the men into their enchanted campsite and settled around the campfire.
"You ladies did an excellent job in concealing yourselves. We couldn't detect your presence at all." Kingsley praised. The other man gruffly nodded in assent. "This is Saul Croaker," introducing his companion, "He works for the Department of Mysteries."
Hermione remembered where she had seen him, he had passed by their campsite during the World Cup. "Croaker? As in Professor Croaker's law?" she inquired. Hermione had familiarized herself with time-magic laws during her third year. Professor Croaker's law was one of the most important.
"Yes, Hermione," he answered with a hint of a smile, "Saul specialized in the dangers of time travel, and was tasked with guarding the use of Ministry Time Turners."
"Time-Turners?" Ginny interjected, "But we destroyed all the Time Turners in the Ministry. What do you do now?" she asked pointedly.
Hermione understood Ginny's suspicion. If Croaker was actively working in the Ministry, he had long since defected to Voldemort's side. How could they trust him?
"Officially, we've been tracking down Time Turners in other countries and destroying them." Croaker replied.
"Of course, Voldemort wants to destroy the Time Turners," Hermione thought, "he doesn't want to risk anyone going back in time and threatening his power."
"But privately–" Croaker continued, "–I've been working on a new type of Time Turner… one that could let the time-traveler go back an indefinite amount of time and also stay an indefinite amount of time."
The girls looked at each other in shock. A Time Turner that could potentially go back years? It could change everything. "And? Did you succeed?" Ginny asked a bit impatiently.
"I created a prototype that could go back one year," he affirmed. "Last year, an identical twin of my owl, Robin, suddenly appeared in my home. He had a silver hourglass wrapped around his neck. When I inspected it closely, I realized what I must have created. I began working on a prototype immediately. It took me a year, but during that time, I noticed that the Time Traveler Robin began to grow sick and frail. It seemed that he could not exist in my time for long, while the original Robin existed. I confirmed my theory yesterday, when I sent the original Robin back; the Time Traveler Robin had inexplicably become healthy again."
"You see," Kingsley interjected, "duplicates cannot exist in the same timeline. Whether it be living beings or objects. One will eventually perish."
"Theoretically," Croaker continued "it should still work if we were to use it to go back years, even decades. However, I have no way to bring the traveler back to the present. So unfortunately, we don't have the luxury to test sending someone years into the past."
Hermione's brow furrowed, "But wouldn't sending someone back for that long cause catastrophe? Eloise Mintumble caused great disturbance to the life paths of all those she met, even causing their descendants to disappear. And she only stayed in the past for five days. I mean… your law states that the furthest someone can go back in time without the possibility of serious harm to the traveler or time itself is five hours."
"Yes, but that's precisely what we intend to do, Miss Granger, cause catastrophic damage to our timeline." Croaker replied solemnly.