Chapter 3
She instantly regretted being correct about her theory that the knights' reflections followed the lighted tip of her wand. "Little Miss Know-It-All does it again," she inwardly groaned as she dodged the first sword thrust.
"Look out!" Eleazar shouted, giving Hermione a split second to somersault out of the way of the third knight's swing. "Accio! Descendo! Depulso!" The professor dispatched the knight closest to him.
Fig was distracted with his own battle long enough to allow Hermione to frantically use a rapid combination of Diffindo, Expulso, and Bombarda to destroy the stone figures attacking her. She thanked Merlin he didn't witness her advanced combative magic... and subsequently sent thanks to Harry for all their dueling practice in the Room of Requirement. Dumbledore's Army may have been her idea, but she was grateful Harry had been such a proficient tutor.
"Stay close!" Eleazar called out to her as she rose to her feet.
"Professor, what in Merlin's name is-"
And then the lights went out and she was surrounded by darkness.
Fear gripped Hermione tighter than her fingers gripped her wand. "Lumos!" she whispered frantically, blinking at the sudden light. Eleazar was gone. "Professor?!" she squeaked.
As she walked, tendrils of light began springing from her steps and flying out ahead, as though guiding her way through the darkened pillars. Hermione felt the pricklings of that same resonating vibration deep inside her core and decided to trust it.
When she came upon a dark pool in the floor, the tendrils flooded into it, and it's as if she instinctually knew what to do. Tapping into that inner sensation of unrest, she drew her wand up and over in a graceful arc, drawing the ancient power up and out of the ground.
More stone guardians appeared.
Now, she felt an unexpected sense of confidence as she raised her wand once more...this time to do battle.
From Harry's account of his disastrous Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape, she knew she was holding a vial of someone's memories. But at present, she really couldn't give a Puffskein fart, because after she passed the test (or what she presumed was a test) and took the awarded memory vial, Hermione spotted Professor Fig on the other side of the blackened portal. She practically threw herself through the magical door and almost tackled the weary man in a frantic hug.
"You're safe!" she cried.
"I am indeed, and it appears you're none the worse for wear! Good good, what have you got there?"
Hermione briefly summarized the frightening combat she managed to win as she handed the small bottle to him. She felt a small spark of irritation that Eleazar seemed to be more engrossed in the events themselves, rather than the fact his charge very nearly died. But, she pushed her feelings aside and made sure to act incredulous and ignorant of Pensieves and physical memories as Fig chattered on excitedly.
Watching the scene unfold in the Pensieve simply confused her further. So two wizards, Percival and Charles, had hidden the key and set clues and trials for someone like her many years ago... To bestow powerful secrets on them? Seemed a bit contrived and illogical, but without further information, Hermione didn't dare speculate. But if she was this someone they were counting on, how was she only now aware of and seeing traces of Ancient Magic? Fig said that Hogwarts itself was practically built with the stuff, so why hadn't she seen it glow before?
She pulled out of the Pensieve with more questions than answers, though Fig seemed excited enough. It troubled her.
Noises outside the vault alerted them to the presence of interlopers. The door swung open and they were confronted by none other than Ranrock, the leader of the growing goblin rebellion.
"I was beginning to think Rackham's vault would sit untouched forever. Question now is," he turned to the bank teller goblin standing next to him, "why Gripnuk here let you humans inside to muck about instead of turning the key over to me immediately."
"S-sir, the key was in their possession! The instructions for Vault 12 were quite specific. You didn't have-" his words choked to a halt as Ranrock summoned a sinister red Magic out of thin air and used it to squeeze the teller's throat.
Try as she might to interject on the bank teller's behalf, Hermione's defense of him only made matters worse. "Please, he was only doing his job! Don't hurt him," she pleaded with the terrorist as he clutched Gripnuk's throat.
"I have no patience for traitors."
Hermione clamped a hand to her mouth to stop the scream when, with a clutching of his fist, Ranrock used the mysterious red force to crush the bones of the little bank teller before dropping the corpse on the stone floor of the cavern.
"Stupid! Stupid girl! You just can't help yourself, can you?" Hermione choked back a sob as she looked at Gripnuk's lifeless body, feeling like she was responsible for inflaming Ranrock's anger just by speaking out.
"Now where were we? Give me what you found inside and I'll let you leave these catacombs alive."
"I'm not giving you a thing!" Fig snarled.
"Perhaps your young friend will be more obliging after I rip a few limbs off her body..."
Eleazar lunged forward to shield Hermione, firing off a Stunner spell which bounced harmlessly off Ranrock's glowing red shield.
Looking at the stone pillars around her, Hermione pointed her wand at the one closest to the terrorists and practiced a nonverbal Bombarda Maxima.
BOOM!
As Ranrock and his loyalists shrieked and dodged and threw up shields against the raining rubble and boulders, Hermione grabbed Fig by the arm and pulled him back into the vault.
"This way, sir!" she urged. "I think I know a way out!"
He followed almost in a daze, nearly getting crushed to death by falling debris himself.
Trusting her inexplicable connection to this Ancient Magical portal, Hermione didn't hesitate again and simply pushed her way into and through the black rippling doorway, expecting to be transported back to that dark cavernous limbo space where she fought the stone knights. Instead, she was surprised to emerge in a dark and misty forest.
She stumbled on the uneven terrain and fell to her hands and knees, feeling dried pine needles and soil under her fingers.
This place felt real. An actual location on planet Earth.
At last, Hermione felt her compartmentalized adrenaline bubbling to the surface in the form of tears and hyperventilation. She breathed deeply through her nose, trying to stave off the panic attack.
"Ha! Who'd have guessed, of all places!"
Hermione did not particularly appreciate Eleazar's unperturbed demeanor at this time.
Professor Fig had brushed off his shell-shock almost immediately after escaping imminent danger and was exploring their new surroundings with amazed amusement. "Apparently, those wizards who set up that Pensieve and built the path that led to it intended for you to wind up here!"
Finally looking up, Hermione saw the one thing that could instantly soothe her emotional breakdown...
Hogwarts castle. Its familiar ramparts and spires almost black against the twilight sky.
Timeless.
Home.
"Best get moving, Hermione!" Eleazar returned to her side and helped her up by her elbow. "We're running a bit behind schedule."
The Gryffindor snorted to herself, but said nothing as she followed the energetic wizard.
Professor Fig held the massive wooden door open and ushered her inside the Entrance Hall, his mouth going a mile a minute describing the school, the house points Hourglasses in the room, and the illustrious Headmaster Black. He cracked the door to the Great Hall, where Hermione could see the room full of students.
"Ah, good, it seems we haven't completely missed the Welcome Feast. The Sorting Ceremony appears to be concluding, so-" Fig stopped himself, suddenly taking in Hermione's disheveled appearance. She had, after all, only just survived a dragon attack mid-air, a Portkey trip to a random cave in the Highlands, a turbulent ride through the underbelly of Gringotts, multiple spell battles against animated stone statues, and an attack by a goblin terrorist leader... "Oh I'm afraid that won't do at all. You can't be attending the Sorting Ceremony out of uniform."
Hermione huffed and willed her eyes not to roll. "Everything I owned was in the carriage, Professor. Hogwarts will either take me as I am, or it'll-"
"Not a worry, just a few spells." Fig talked over her, cutting her sass off at the roots as he raised his wand and transfigured her filthy, torn clothes into a set of plain black student robes.
Hermione swallowed back her embarrassment, the voice of eleven year old Ron echoing in her mind: "Have you gone mad? Are you a witch or not?!" Blushing, she offered a demure smile to Fig in both apology and thanks.
"Now, I desperately need to speak to the Ministry, what with Ranrock on the loose and poor George. I must ask that you keep everything that's happened today between us for now...including your connection to Ancient Magic. News will soon get out about the dragon attack, but everything after we touched that Portkey needs to remain private until I learn more, do you understand?"
Hermione nodded slowly...uncertainly. "Of course, sir. I can do that." But alarm bells were already going off in her brain. Shouldn't they be telling everyone about this? She just witnessed two deaths that day...who knows how many others were dead because of this. Why all the secrecy?
But on the other hand, she reasoned to herself, she was a foreigner in what was essentially a foreign land. The little she recalled from Professor Binns' classes was filled with tumultuous crises throughout Wizarding history...usually involving goblin rebellions. If she was caught in the middle of one, whom should she trust? Even Professor Fig may not be the most trustworthy person here, but how could she possibly know? For now, she agreed it was likely the smartest move to keep silent. He said he would speak to the Ministry about Ranrock, and that was that.
She simply HAD to keep reminding herself that she didn't know anybody anymore, and knew very little about the world around her. The familiarity of Hogwarts was a false comfort, and she couldn't afford to forget it.
She wasn't The Brightest Witch of Her Age any longer. This was not her Age.
"Nice of you to finally join us, Fig," came a haughty voice from the Great Hall. "The Sorting Ceremony's already over."
The muscles in Eleazar's face tensed. "Our illustrious Headmaster," he mumbled under his breath to Hermione. He turned and addressed the pompous wizard: "Complications arose, Headmaster. It appears the unrest within the goblin population is- "
"Fig, Fig, Fig, I don't have time for your silly rumors. Is this the new fifth year or not?"
Hermione did her best to quell the curious stare she knew she was giving him. She'd seen his portrait in Dumbledore's office a few times, but never imagined he'd sound or act like... this. Although, usually did have a snide remark or two from his picture frame. The man in the flesh just felt a little too flippant.
Mentally shaking herself, she offered him a smile and did her best to schmooze the man. Considering the time period she was in, she didn't want to presume she would receive equal treatment here...not only because she was a girl, but mostly because of her Muggle heritage. Phineas Black was the only Slytherin Headmaster she recalled reading about in Hogwarts: A History, and that implied he was at the very least tolerant of Blood Purity ideology.
"Thank you admitting me to Hogwarts, Professor Black. I'm so grateful to you and the institution for this incredible opportunity, especially considering my unique circumstances."
Phineas gave her an unflattering once-over before giving a non-committal 'mmm.' But he did step aside to allow her to pass. "Like I said, the Ceremony is over, but I'll see what I can do. I still may be able to get you sorted this evening."
He turned and strode to the staff table just in time to miss Fig rolling his eyes. "He's the bloody headmaster, innee? Merlin's beard..."
Hermione smothered a grin.
"Anyway, I'll be in touch." Eleazar took this opportunity to make his escape before Phineas could look back.
The headmaster grabbed a plain wooden stool in one hand and a very grumpy looking Sorting Hat by his pointed tip in the other. Hermione winced as she watched the wisened old entity being carried in such an undignified manner.
"Headmaster! Might I assist you?" A redheaded middle-aged witch scurried from the staff table to intercept Phineas. She gently - but insistently - eased the Sorting Hat from the man's grip under the guise of helping him.
"Ah, yes Professor Weasley. We've one more to be sorted."
"I can most certainly help with that, Professor!"
Hermione's mouth fell open as she stared at the woman. Her voice...that hair... it was almost as if Molly was in the room herself. The familial resemblance was almost frightening, and she knew it was going to be incredibly difficult to act naturally around her. Hermione already felt her throat closing up with the overwhelming emotion of homesickness.
Her face flushing, Hermione forced herself forward to the center of the Great Hall, not even minding the stares and whispers from the multitude of students watching her.
"Welcome. You're just in time! Have a seat, dear."
Hermione took a steadying breath to control the urge to break down in tears. Then, she sat on the stool and let the hat sink down to her eyebrows.
The hat took its time before speaking in her ear. "Interesting..." it finally mused. "It's not every day I meet a time traveler."
"It's wonderful to meet you again, sir," Hermione spoke very quietly.
"Is it now? Well it's my first time, missy."
Hermione smiled.
"You'll forgive me if I have a lot of catching up to do before I Sort you a second time."
"If it's more convenient, you sorted me into Gryffindor."
"It is not. I told you I'm Sorting you a second time...not just repeating my future self."
Hermione frowned in confusion. "I didn't think a person could ever change Houses? It's part of our core personality?"
The voice inside her ear chuckled. "Dear girl, doesn't everyone grow with time over many struggles and life experiences?"
"I suppose so."
"And just how many struggles and life experience does the average person have by the age of eleven?"
Hermione paused. "I...er... hadn't considered it like that before. I've always just accepted that I was a Gryffindor. Although at times I confess I still question why you didn't place me in Ravenclaw."
"Will you also question my judgement when I tell you that you belong in Hufflepuff?"
Hermione was stunned into silence. "Wh- what?"
The voice laughed again.
"Hufflepuff? You can't be serious! I've always been a Gryffindor!"
"I'm quite serious, Miss Granger. You are brave, yes. Courageous and bold, even. But that bravery only exists because you are loyal to your friends and a righteous cause. You are as vicious as a badger when those you love are threatened. Indeed, your intelligence is fearsome and your learning insatiable... but you are not a scholar purely for academia's sake. You are unafraid of hours, days, even weeks researching in the library if it means you are better able to help your friends succeed. You are resourceful, oh yes. Ambitious in your quest for justice... but your Muggle heritage and drive for equality means you are welcoming of everyone regardless of their blood purity and even - dare I say - their species. Your house-elf crusade is proof enough of that."
Hermione reeled in this unexpected turn of events. "But then, why...?"
"My future decision of Gryffindor will be based on the little girl whose head I sit on one hundred years from now. You are not that same little girl. There's no doubt about it, my lady... at this age and in this year, you are a -HUFFLEPUFF!- through and through."
The children seated beneath the gold and black banner exploded into applause and cheers.
The Hat chuckled one last time. "Go forth and raise hell, little badger."
The whole walk to her new Common Room went by in a daze. Professor Weasley used the time to welcome her, introduce herself, and give her a field guide book to help her "catch up" to the rest of her classmates.
As they reached the large fruit painting, Matilda Weasley casually asked why Hermione and Professor Fig had been late to the Welcome Feast.
Snapping back into the present, Hermione tried not to stumble over her carefully-edited version of events, as per Professor Fig's wishes. "Well, you see Professor, our carriage was attacked mid-flight by a dragon! We were lucky to escape with our lives. The other passenger, a Ministry worker, didn't...I saw him get eaten alive."
Fortunately, the wavering in her voice was completely genuine. There was no way Hermione could have faked that.
"Oh my dear," Matilda cooed motherly, "that must have been so terribly frightening. Thank gods you survived in one piece!"
Hermione sniffed and nodded. "Unfortunately along with that poor man, none of my belongings made it either. I only have a borrowed wand and what I'm wearing. All my school supplies were lost, so I'm afraid I'll be even further behind once classes start tomorrow."
"Oh dear dear dear, no need to worry about that, Miss Granger. You just focus on getting a good night's rest and I'll handle the rest. I'm sure we can get you sorted out straight away." She looked over to the empty space next to Hermione. "Deek?"
With a sudden "Pop!" a house elf appeared. Hermione pretended to act startled.
"Yes, mistress?"
Hermione also pretended not to bristle at the casual slavery happening in the Wizarding World.
"Please find Miss Granger here a nightgown for sleeping, and clean her student robes for her to wear in the morning. That'll give me time to get a trip to Hogsmeade sorted. And see me in my office when I return there, Deek."
"Of course, mistress!"
The House Elf vanished as quickly as he'd appeared.
"Good, now, I'll let you settle in for the night and try to get some sleep. Just tickle the pear in the painting and you'll be able to enter the Common Room."
"Thank you, Professor W-weasley," Hermione forced a smile. "For everything."
The matronly woman gave her a warm smile in return and even gave her a quick hug that Hermione nearly melted into. "See you in the morning, dear."
Thankfully, the Deputy Headmistress had already turned away and so didn't see Hermione's face crumple into silent tears.
Hermione managed to just hold herself together long enough to reach her dorm room and flung herself onto the bed. She flicked her wand and raised privacy shields so she finally felt safe enough to let out the sobs that had been building up inside her all evening.
All evening? Merlin's sake, these tears had been fighting to be released since the day she woke up in Miriam Fig's guest bed three months prior.
And once the tears started, they felt like they would never stop. Deep, body-wracking sobs contorted her face as she curled into the fetal position. She weeped bitterly for the loss of her family... her friends... Gods, Harry and Ron... Her life, as she knew it, was over. And yet, she was in the same castle that had been her home for five years. Every flagstone, every gargoyle, every statue... all would remind her of her previous life.
That is, unless... she researched and investigated this "Ancient Magic" until she discovered the secret to going home.
It brought her here...therefore it only stood to reason it had the power to take her back.
At last, the teary convulsions stilled. She sat up, blowing her nose and wiping her face with a transfigured handkerchief.
Her eyes narrowed as she resolved to throw herself behind her new mission.
She would get to the bottom of this, one way or another.