Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling.
Revised, split up into chapters, and reposted on 2-3-10
The Dool Tree
Chapter 2
When Hermione resumed consciousness, her face was buried in the grass and there was something tough and firm under her stomach. It felt like her leather book-bag. Before she could think about anything else, she heard a shout from nearby.
"Evans! Hey, Evans!"
'Evans' apparently didn't reply, and Hermione didn't care. Feeling as winded as if an elephant had sat on her chest, she rose, blinked, and rubbed her eyes.
Then she blinked and rubbed her eyes again. She thought she saw Harry, Professor Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black.
"What is it with her?" said Harry, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him.
"Reading between the lines, I'd say she thinks you're a bit conceited, mate," said Sirius.
"Right," said Harry, who looked furious now, "right –"
There was a brilliant flash of light, and suddenly she saw a gangly boy hanging upside-down in the air above her.
"Move away, young lady," said Harry dismissively, approaching the other boy, whose robes and long black hair flailed around him. "Now, who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?" (1)
She didn't know what was happening—am I in a dream?—but she couldn't believe Harry would be so cruel to anybody, especially a fellow student.
"Harry James Potter, what on earth do you think you're doing?" she demanded, rising with anger in her eyes. "Let him down. Do you want to be expelled?"
Hearing snickering from Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black, she rounded on them too. "I don't know why either of you is here..." she began, but then she realized that each of them was significantly younger than when she had seen them last. Peter didn't even have facial hair, while Sirius had a scrawny beard. Casting a look at Lupin, she saw he had lost his constantly-haunted expression, and then she took a double-take at Harry. It wasn't Harry, though it really was the splitting image of him. However, his eyes weren't green.
She then realized that something very, very bad had happened, and she spun around to search for her book-bag. It was right where she had landed, and she dove on her knees to dump everything out of it.
I knew it was a bad idea to try and use the time-turner again this year...(2) she thought, praying and hoping that what she thought had happened hadn't happened.
But it had: her time-turner was crushed to pieces, and the glittery sand from inside it spilled into the wet grass.
Bollocks.
She bit her lip and stood up, trembling and nervous. What does this mean? I suppose I'm just back a few years, which is all very well. I should go find Dumbledore. But first...to deal with this.
A strong voice permeated her thoughts. "Girl, I see you're a Gryffindor from your tie, but who are you? I've never seen you before. Are you in our year?"
That's Harry's father, she realized, and, solemn, she shook her head. "Erm...no," she managed to squeak, "I'm...Hermione Granger."
"You showed up kinda suddenly," Pettigrew (the rat!) said, sounding suspicious.
"Well, I just fell out of this tree," Hermione retorted, feeling at odds with logic with her panic. "Now, Pro-erm, Lupin, make him let this boy down. It's not right to string people up like this. Much less threaten to strip them publicly."
"Ahem. She's quite right, Prongs," Lupin said, sounding more than a mite guilty for not having stepped in sooner. "Let Snape down, and then why don't you go and find Lily and apologize."
Snape? thought Hermione in shock. That's Snape?
She hadn't hitherto looked at him, but now she did. It was awe-inspiring and humbling to see the future Professor of Potions suspended in midair, exposing his underwear and looking positively sick.
In fact, he immediately was sick, all over the grass.
The Marauders laughed, even Lupin, and Hermione was inflamed by their barbarity. To her immense gratitude, she did have her wand in her sleeve, and it was unbroken. With a flick, she reversed the Levicorpus and gently lowered the retching figure to a clean spot of grass. She wasn't sure what to think, but she registered a new piece of knowledge: if this is how James Potter treated Snape when they were kids, then no wonder Snape hates Harry!
"Leave," she commanded the Marauders. "Or, apologize, and then leave."
James Potter grimly shook his head, but then he met Hermione's eyes, and he cowered. "All right, fine," he snapped, and he turned around, beckoning for his friends to follow. They didn't look back once.
She then diverted her attention to Snape, who was curled up, his face buried between his knees, shaking like a leaf.
"Are you...okay?" she asked, wondering if the word 'okay' was around in whatever decade this was.
He didn't respond, and she realized that he was crying and trying to hide it.
Not knowing what to do, and feeling rather hopeless herself, she sat next to him. He didn't seem to notice.
"You aren't, I guess. Neither am I," she confessed, placing a hand on her stomach. There would be a bruise there tomorrow, she knew. "Falling out of trees doesn't suit me."
She saw his muscles tense, as if in anger...or perhaps fright.
You know, where I come from, you're my professor—and a bloody frightening professor, too, she thought about saying. She knew that'd be ridiculous, though, given the situation.
"I think we should leave. More people are coming out. Here." She dug in her bag and brought out a fistful of tissues. "Wipe up your face and let's go in, okay? I..."
It shocked her when she realized that his tears were even more terrifying than all the times he'd scowled, shouted, and been ruthlessly cruel in class. I can't bear to see such a strong man so weak, she acknowledged. And it's not fair that someone I've hated so long can elicit so much pity now.
While thus distracted, she felt a hand snatch the tissues from her, and when she looked back at Snape, he was mopping up his silent tears. His head was bent in a desperate attempt to save his pride.
"Thank you," he managed to splutter when he had finished, deep shame and grief in his eyes. "I...I'll be all right, now." He stood up shakily, wordlessly accio-ing his wand and banishing the contents of his stomach that lay on the grass. "Thanks," he croaked again, and then raced away as fast as his spindly legs could carry him.
She stood, picked up her book-bag, and prepared to leave. Tree of Sorrow indeed, she decided as she cast her eyes over the Dool Tree one last time. And that wasn't even a real hanging.
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