"You need to work on your backhand if you're going to make the team this year." James chastised, as he and Sirius made their way back to the manor.
"Oh come off it. I'd be the best Beater even if I was blindfolded." Sirius said, rolling his eyes.
"Well, it wouldn't hurt to diversify your skillset. See, even I'm working on my…" he trailed off.
"Yeah, working on what, you pompous git," Sirius retorted, polishing his broom with his sleeve.
"What in the bloody hell is that?" James whispered.
"What?" Sirius looked up and saw something slowly materializing in the air where James was pointing. It was a figure crouched down on all fours.
The two boys whipped their wands out and slowly approached. They were met with a horrifying sight: a young woman, completely drenched, her wild hair matted and her tattered clothes covered in blood. She was doubled over in pain.
"Hey, you alright?" Sirius said softly, lowering his wand.
She looked up and Sirius gazed into her bright, brown eyes. James with wand still raised, watched her warily.
She attempted to get up, but collapsed pitifully, unconscious, to the ground.
"Oh fuck," Sirius quickly reached down, but James held back his arm. "Wait! We don't know who she is. This may be a trap."
Sirius forcefully shrugged him off. "She clearly is no threat, you idiot." He gently scooped his arms underneath her. He held the frail woman close to his chest.
"Alright," James said, finally lowering his wand. "Let's bring her inside. Mum will know what to do."
Sirius nodded, glancing down at the face resting against his body. He felt a sudden pang in his chest. What happened to you?
Sirius watched the young woman stir in her sleep, completely entranced.
Her injuries looked even worse upon closer inspection. Her wrists were a deep purple, almost black, and badly swollen. "Mudblood", a word too revolting to even utter, was haphazardly carved into her arm. She had gashes and bruises of all sizes littered over her body. She looked like she'd been through hell.
They couldn't be that far off in age, he realized. If she had attended Hogwarts, their years had to have overlapped. But he was certain he never saw her before. He gently tucked one loose curl behind her ear. Yes, he definitely would've remembered someone like her.
James and his mother entered the room, breaking him out of his reverie.
"Oh Merlin," she gasped softly, examining the girl's state.
Euphemia Potter was an elderly woman of tall stature. Her long black hair fell upon her narrow shoulders in an elegant fashion. She quickly stepped beside the battered girl, examining her state. She and her husband had taken Sirius in after he got disowned earlier that year. They had always treated him like a second son, and he respected and loved them as if they were his real parents.
"Should we bring her to St. Mungo's?" James asked.
"No. This girl must have been fleeing whoever did this to her. We wouldn't want to accidentally alert them. I'll call for a Healer I trust. Keep an eye on her until I come back."
Ughhhh… Hermione awoke in immense pain. She struggled to find her bearings. Where am I?
The warm sunlight poured in from the window above her bed, illuminating the simply furnished room. There was a fresh vase of flowers on the nightstand, beside her silver Time Turner. The glass was badly cracked and it lay completely bare. There was no turning back now.
She was covered in a pale blue blanket that was velvety to the touch. She lifted up the blanket to see that she'd been dressed in a hospital gown and her wounds bandaged up.
All of a sudden, the memories of Bellatrix torturing her came hurling back in full force. Sharp pains erupted all over her body, as her body spasmed uncontrollably.
Filthy mudblood!
The hideous scar on her arm burned. She unwittingly let out a scream.
Her door burst open, and two boys came tumbling through.
The first boy, with his untidy jet-black hair and round-rimmed glasses, was the spitting image of Harry— well, except for the absence of a certain scar, and his eyes were hazel, instead of Harry's sparkling green. He had healthy, tanned skin and an athletic figure, no doubt the result of spending many hours under the sun playing Quidditch.
The second boy was just as tall as the first but had broad, well-defined shoulders that exuded strength. He had prominent cheekbones and an aquiline nose that looked as if they were sculpted by the gods themselves. His lustrous black hair fell just above his beautifully arched eyebrows and piercing gray eyes.
This must be James and Sirius. Tears brimmed in her eyes, as she looked into Sirius's young face, not yet ravaged by years of pain and torment. She held back her tears, refusing to succumb to her emotions.
"You're awake!" James exclaimed, grinning at her.
"How do you feel?" Sirius asked with a look of concern.
The spasming had stopped, but the pain still lingered.
"Not great…" she answered truthfully.
The boys looked at each other in alarm. "I'll get Mum to call for Madam Pomfrey." James said, running out the door.
Sirius remained with her, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. Hermione nervously fidgeted with the bandage around her left arm as she avoided his curious gaze.
"I'm Sirius Black." he said, breaking the silence, "the bloke who ran out of here is James Potter. This is his house. What's your name?"
Hermione looked up at him, disarmed by his charming smile.
"M-my na… I… hey, what's the date?" she asked awkwardly.
"It's July 5th. You've been here for four days," Sirius quickly replied.
"Right… and the year?"
Sirius's brow furrowed. "It's 1976," he responded slowly as if questioning her sanity.
"Oh… good," she breathed a sigh of relief.
Sirius looked at her, his smile gone and his confusion deepening.
So Croaker's Time Turner had worked after all. She had traveled exactly five years before the end of the first war. Croaker was a backstabbing, cowardly bastard, but at least he knew what he was doing.
"So you gonna tell me your name, love?" Sirius asked again, interrupting her train of thought.
"I… I'm Rose." Rose. She had always liked that name.
"That's a pretty name," Sirius said as he walked over and sat at the foot of her bed. "So… who did this to you? Shit, I mean, sorry, that's probably not the best thing to ask when you still look like this. Fuck, not that you look bad, I meant that you're still recovering. Actually given the circumstances, you're quite pretty…" A soft blush bloomed in Sirius's pale cheeks.
"What are you spluttering about, Sirius," James said, walking back into the room. "Try not to hit on our guest until she recovers, yeah? Then she can at least run away when she gets disgusted by you."
"Shut up." Sirius said, his face flushing to a deep crimson.
"Sorry, miss. He's not normally this much of a twit. We wanted to ask if you remember what happened? I mean, not that you have to answer if you don't want to. But if you tell us who did this, we could help you."
"I… I don't really remember." Hermione replied in a small, unsteady voice, looking down at her hands.
"That's okay," James said cheerily, "do you remember where you live? We weren't sure who to contact. You weren't carrying anything with you."
"I was on my way to Dufftown, but I mixed up the destinations and got lost… I was going to meet Albus Dumbledore."
"Dumbledore?!" The boys said in unison. They looked at each other in surprise.
"Yes, I must see Dumbledore. It's an urgent matter. Could I borrow an owl to contact him? " Hermione said, finally meeting their eyes.
"Sure… we'll be right back." The boys exited her room, whispering in the hallway about the mysterious girl.