Time and the Moon

Chapter 2: Extended Chronological Temporal Displacement

She felt consciousness slowly drift in, the feel of a pillow under her head, the weight of covers over her feet. After a deep breath she felt sad, how the dream had slipped away from her, a wonderful dream at first with Jack on that island but it had all turned so strange at the end. Grasping out in her memory to draw back the dream she drew in the details of how it felt with Jack, how it...

"I believe she's waking up."

The woman's voice brought her awake as sharply as being poked by a sewing needle. After raising an eyelid up as slowly as possible to use her vision it was readily apparent that she was not in her little flat. The walls were white, stark white, and there was no window on the side of the bed that she faced.

"Do you think we should start with the questions or the spells?"

A different voice, a male voice that sounded rougher and almost like a growl, but she didn't hear any menace in the words. Did that mean that...it actually happened?

"Questions, Splitaxe." The woman seemed rather put out, as if it was obvious.

Unable to contain her curiosity Hermione sighed, gathered the sheet about her and turned over in bed to put faces to the voice and, more importantly, find out what exactly had happened to her.

"Well, looks like you get your questions now, Charity." The goblin stood next to a desk by the door, wearing a dark blue robe and holding a clipboard in his long-fingered hands. "But I'll start. Good afternoon, Miss. My name is Splitaxe, Herbert Splitaxe. You're safe, unrestrained, and currently in the Department of Mysteries. You've been affected by an Extended Chronological Temporal Displacement, a rather rare anomaly. Only three have been recorded and verified."

Hermione blinked for a moment. "That would explain it, then. A chronological...you're saying that I've traveled through time, correct?"

The woman nodded. "Yes, that's correct. My name is Charity Weasley-Jones, Miss..." She took out a slim piece of metal about the shape of a book but only a few centimeters thick and tapped it with her wand. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we? What's your name, dear?"

Weasley-Jones? Hermione stared at her, trying to figure out exactly how she was a Weasley but after a second caught herself with a start. She had time-traveled. Harry was old. After a moment she remembered that she'd been asked a question. "I'm sorry, this is quite a bit to take in." The woman looked over to the goblin, who nodded, and shortly thereafter the witch conjured two chairs next to Hermione's bed. After they sat down she gave Hermione a look that reminded Hermione of the ones her mum gave her when...her mum. "Oh my God."

Herbert Splitaxe slid down from his chair and stood next to Hermione, placing a warm but leathery hand on her arm. "You must be very distressed, young lady. Would you care for a calming draught? Tea?"

"Tea. Please." Hermione sat up fully, drew her knees to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. The realization hit her that her parents were dead by now, probably had been for ages, but for how long? And her mum's insistence on manners had just taken over regarding tea. She had no idea if she could actually drink it or not, but it seemed, well, rude not to accept the offer. Also, people chatted over tea; she needed answers, and perhaps they would answer her questions if...

"Here you are." The witch handed her a cup of tea. "How do you take it?"

"Just white."

Shortly everyone had a cup of tea. Hermione took a sip tentatively, wary of being slipped a potion, but soon realized it was, simply, a cup of tea. It also gave her further time to look at the two that sat in front of her. The goblin's age was hard to gauge, as she didn't really have much experience judging the ages of goblins, but the woman seemed to be about in her late forties to early fifties, a strawberry-blonde somewhat plump with bright blue eyes. It was her eyes that made the decision for Hermione, as they looked...kind.

"Hermione Jean Granger." The tablet floating next to the witch began to slightly vibrate in the air, causing her attention to waver for a moment. "What is that?"

"Dicta-Tablet." The goblin nodded. "I take it you've never seen one, Miss Granger?"

"No, Mister...I'm sorry..."

"Splitaxe, Herbert Splitaxe. It's quite all right. I'll be happy to answer any questions you have but, if you don't mind, we'd like to get the basics down for the documentation before we start our discussion. There are procedures to be followed."

"Of course." Hermione nodded.

The witch smiled at her. "I promise, it won't take long. When is your birthday?"

"Nineteen September, 1979."

"And where do you live?"

"16 Bastet Building, flat 2. London."

"Occupation?"

"Deputy Administrator, Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures, Ministry of Magic."

"Marital Status?"

That caught her off-guard for a moment. "Single."

"Children?"

"What?" Hermione shook her head. "Sorry. No. No children."

The witch looked down at her clipboard, winced, and gave Hermione an apologetic glance. "I'm sorry, but this will be rather involved. Just wait to the end." After a small cough she began to read in a rather monotone voice. "Have you ever experienced any of the following: demonic possession, prolonged exposure to expired potion ingredients, the death of a black cat at midnight on the first day of January, ingestion of dragon sperm, prolonged use of a time-turner..."

"Yes."

The two occupants of the chair looked at each other for a brief second. Splitaxe cleared his throat. "How long did you use a time-turner? It is the time-turner, not the dragon sperm, isn't it?"

"Yes." Hermione nodded. "Third year at Hogwarts."

"A single use or..."

"The entire year. Professor McGonagall gave it to me."

"Oh dear." The witch sat back in her chair for a moment. "With your permission I'd like to cast a diagnostic spell upon you. It will not harm or alter your mind, body or soul in any aspect. Do I have your permission?"

"Yes."

The witch stood up, pointed her wand at Hermione and a slow trickle of bright yellow light poured out of the tip of the wand like water, started at the top of Hermione's head and slowly made its way over her entire body. Hermione felt as if she'd been plunged in lukewarm bathwater, but then the light began to pulse a bit, turned a bright shade of blue and then flashed to white before it faded away.

"Dumbledore's socks!" The witch turned to the goblin. "Herbie, that's off the scale!"

Hermione's patience was at its end. "That's enough! I want you to tell me what's going on, right now!"

Splitaxe waved off the other witch and looked over to Hermione with a patient and calming expression upon his face. "One of the reasons that time-turners were discontinued was that individuals that utilised them over extended periods of time suffered the occasional Micro Chronological Temporal Displacement; in layman's terms it meant that the person who had used the time-turner would experience time gaps. At first it was thought that it was just a trick that the mind played upon the person based on their previous experiments, but after the Department of Mysteries conducted a series of controlled experiments proof was obtained on the 'time skips.' People would actually skip for a few moments in time. Sometime it was merely seconds, other times a few minutes, but they literally skipped in time. You, Miss Granger, skipped in time for approximately sixty-two years. It is currently Monday, the 26th of June, in the year 2062." He paused for a moment. "You fainted upon seeing Minister Potter on Saturday the 24th and have been in a potion-induced coma to stabilise your body. Our experience has been that those individuals who suffer from 'time skips' require rest afterwards. In their case a kip of an hour or so usually does the trick, but with the astounding length of time you've been...we were worried that due to the length of time you've been away that your body might not handle readjustment."

Hermione's brain began working feverishly. Time 'skips' were a side-effect of time-turner use? She'd used the time-turner for a year, but that had been back in third year, six years before her time traveling. It couldn't be that. "How long after extended time-turner use did people experience the skips?"

Splitaxe looked down at his clipboard. "Two years, with a six month margin of error."

"Then I'm not affected." Hermione shook her head. "It was six years after I...when I..."

The goblin nodded. "As I said previously, Miss Granger, you situation is an anomaly."

Charity cleared her throat. "Splitaxe, I believe we're due to give our report within the hour. Perhaps we should leave Miss Granger the reading material."

"Reading material?" Hermione looked at her, still trying to determine how the witch was a Weasley. Finally, she laughed. "I doubt there's a Ministry pamphlet to cover this situation."

Charity shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not. But the Minister did suggest that you would be most interested in one specific book." She stood up, went to the small desk at the back of the room, opened a drawer and returned with a rather thick book and laid it on the foot of the bed. "We'll return to answer questions when we can, but until then please touch the red button on the side of the bed if you require anything. There's a private loo over there." She pointed to the door on the far wall. "And since your case is currently re-writing all known research regarding time anomalies, everything in the room is currently being recorded." She held up her hand. "Owing to your...history with the Minister all recordings will be held in the strictest confidentiality. Access is currently limited to Director Splitaxe, myself and the Minister at this time."

Hermione stared at the book on the bed for the longest time, debating whether or not to actually pick it up. By the time she had gathered the courage to pick up and open The History of Magic, she was alone.

-ooo-

The book had been updated since she had last read it, obviously. Turning the pages felt comforting and terrifying all at once. She skipped over all of the things that happened during the war with Voldemort, searching the pages afterwards until she found it. An entry on her disappearance. There had been a fire at Chip's cottage, that blonde arsehole who had stolen her book and made lewd suggestions to her on the beach the day she met Jack. The fire had raged out of control, and owing to the extreme inebriation of most of the cottage's inhabitants they had perished in the fire, the extreme heat rendering identification almost impossible. The romance novel she had borrowed from Ginny had been found at the cottage, and from there investigators had pieced her travel arrangements together, combined with a statement from Ginny that she had loaned he the book, causing the investigators to deduce that she had died in the fire. Her grave was next to her parent's. A small plaque with her name on it was located in the Gryffindor common room and a full scholarship to Hogwarts for Muggleborn students was funded in her name, in perpetuity, by Harry Potter.

Suddenly she remembered something from an American author named Mark Twain, that 'results of her death had been greatly exaggerated.' She almost couldn't stand it, looking down at the words, as they seemed to float about and stand on their own, not part of any coherent sentence whatsoever. It didn't stop her insatiable desire for knowledge to abate, though, as she began to devour the book as if she had to turn in four feet of parchment the next day.

And they were all there. Harry, Ginny, Ron, the rest of the Weasleys. Neville. Luna. Her friends had changed magical Britain. After her disappearance Harry had become even more involved with the Aurors, eventually rising to the position of Head Auror and, since 2040, held the position of Minister for Magic.

A soft knock on the door brought her attention up with a snap. She hoped it would be the Department of Mysteries lot again, as she had many more questions. As the door swung open slowly, though, she felt her heart leap into her throat. Harry Potter stood at the door, in a simple but well-cut deep blue robe, hair as white as snow.

"Hermione?" He stood in the doorway, one hand upon the doorknob, uncertain about whether to enter. "Do you mind?"

"Of course not." She slid off the bed, somewhat embarrassed regarding her flimsy white hospital gown. Part of her wanted to go over to him and throw her arms around him and have him tell her it was all one of George's elaborate pranks, that it would all be back to normal in the morning, but the look in his eyes made her stop after a step or two. Those green eyes of Harry's looked worried.

He walked over and stood a few feet from her. They stood there, almost motionless, and finally Harry broke the tension by reaching out and touching her arm.

"It really is you, isn't it?"

"Oh Harry!" She couldn't contain herself and pulled him into a tight hug. As she did so she knew that it was Harry, it felt like him, but it was different. He was...thin. Almost frail. She finally felt his arms around her and knew that he was holding back. His hand reached up, touched her hair for a moment, and then it was like she was back at his house at Godric's Hollow the day it was finally completed.

"Merlin." He pulled away and looked at her. "We...we thought you died in America."

"I just went on holiday, woke up one morning and everything was changed. I had no idea until we came back and Jack..." She put a hand to her mouth. "Harry, is he..."

He nodded. "Jack's my grandson. James, he's our oldest son, he's Jack's father. Jackie's the youngest of four." A smile broke out on Harry's face, a wide smile that threatened to split his head in two. "Bloody hell, Hermione, I've dreamt about showing you what they were like, showing you pictures. Ginny and I used to laugh about what you would think of them." He put his hand into his robe and pulled out a small box. "I...didn't know if..."

"If I'd be mental or not?"

He laughed. "Well, yeah. You're handling this quite well, you know."

"I don't think I am, really." She looked around for chairs but since the Department of Mysteries pair had conjured theirs before there was only a single chair over by the small desk across the room. "I don't have my wand...could you..."

"Oh, of course." Harry took out his wand and in moments two very comfortable overstuffed chairs stood in front of them. He took a seat and as Hermione sat down and tried to cover her legs he opened the box. "You know how you teased me when I built the house that I was trying to compete with Molly and Arthur? Well..." He laughed. "We did. And we beat them."

He handed her a picture and there, in front of the Godric's Hollow house which looked even bigger than when she'd seen it, was the Potter family. Harry and Ginny sat on a little bench while Ginny held a baby in her arms.

"We've got them sorted by age, had to, otherwise it was always a mess. That's James at the end, you've met...he's the oldest. This was taken in '23, so let me think. James was 18. That's Albus next to him, 17, then Lily. She hated being the only girl up until...she's 15 there. Then Arthur and Michael, 13 and 11 and that's when I started really going white. Worse than Fred and George, those two. See how they're pushing each other? That's Andrew, he was 9 and then Gideon, 8. Merlin, I haven't looked at this picture in ages." He tapped his finger on the squirming baby in Ginny's arms. "And this is...and...this is little Hermione."

While Harry was going through all of the names and ages Hermione couldn't look at him, her focus was entirely on the picture. Happy, healthy kids, all the way from adults to a baby. Ginny did, if she admitted it to herself, look a lot like Molly, but much more carefree and fashionable. Harry, though, Harry was as she had always hoped he would be after the war, a happy, beaming, proud father. Harry, who had always dreamt of having a loving family was surrounded by one; his. She felt the tears begin to fall and wiped them away hurriedly with the back of her hand.

"It's ok, we don't call her 'Mione. I know how much you hated that."

She laughed. "Oh Harry, that's not it. I'm just so happy for you. You have your family."

"I do. I do." He looked over to her. "Naming her after you was Ginny's idea. We wanted to do it when Arthur was born, but it was boys right on through. She was a surprise, to all of us." He paused. "But not as much as you. Are...are you ok?"

"Honestly? I have no idea." She sat back against the chair. "I don't know where to begin. I have no clothes except what I brought back, I probably don't even have a flat anymore."

"Ron has your books." His voice was soft. "Everything went to your parent's place, but after your father passed...he bought them from your mum. Said he couldn't bear to let them get all messed up and scattered all over."

"Harry..." She put a hand on his arm. "Is he..."

"He's still alive. Still working with George." He paused for a very long time, looking down at his hands. "He's got three kids, a boy and two girls, plus grandchildren." He turned his face towards her. "You've met his daughter. Charity."

"Ron's daughter." She took a deep breath. "No wonder she looked familiar."

"You haven't asked, but I know you're wondering. He married Verity, remember her?"

"The girl from George's shop?"

"The same." Another long pause of silence was finally broken by Harry's deep sigh. "He didn't take it well, that you...when we..."

"When everyone thought I'd died."

"Yeah. It's not like he was still in love with you, but..."

"And you, Harry? And Ginny? Mum and Dad?"

"It was like Fred's funeral but about a million times worse." He shook his head. "McGonagall...we had a thing afterwards and she almost fell apart. Drunk as hell, too, her an' Hagrid." He laughed. "Never thought I'd see that in my lifetime, a drunk McGonagall."

"And you, Harry. Minister for Magic!" She swelled with pride. "Please tell me you've freed the house elves. What about the werewolves? The centaurs? Goblins now work in the Department of Mysteries, was that you? What about the Muggleborns, are they still discriminated against? You're on the Wizangamot, aren't you? Are there elections now?"

Harry sat back and laughed heartily. "Oh my Merlin, I've missed that. I thought I'd head all that off with the book."

She glanced over at the book lying half-open on the bed. "I just started it not too long ago, I didn't have time."

"It's all in there, trust me. I did help with some things, like the Goblin Acts, but...just read it. I don't remember all the details that you'll want to know."

She gave him a comically perturbed look. "Fine. I will." Then the enormity of reality hit her; it was 2062, Harry was old, everyone she knew was now old or had passed, and like before she had no idea what direction to take her life. Back then, in 2000, it was because she wasn't sure what she wanted to do, but now, in 2062, she wasn't sure what she would do because...

"Hermione, I can hear the gears grinding in there." He tapped her head. "You want to know what happens next, don't you?"

"Well, obviously."

He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up at odd angles. "The press is having a field day, of course. My office has been deluged with e-owls..."

"E-owls?"

"Ah, right, we still used real owls back then. I don't know exactly how it works but its one of George's things, he patterned it off of email but it uses magic. I don't know the details, but they're messages. We've been flooded by them since you showed up with..."

"With Jack." She tucked one of her legs underneath her and shifted away from Harry slightly.

"Yes. With Jack. If seeing you after all these years wasn't enough of a shock, seeing you with my grandson, looking like that..."

"Like what?" She focused on him, scrunching her eyebrows together. "Harry Potter, what are you..."

"Looking like you were in love, or at least some serious infatuation and..." He turned about five different shades of red and started to get up but her hand stopped him. "Hermione..."

"And what?"

He sighed deeply and muttered it under his breath. "And looking freshly-shagged-happy." He held up his hands as if to block her whapping him on the head. "I have eight kids, I know the look, ok?"

"You dirty old man!"

His happiness faded immediately. "I am an old man, Hermione." He patted his wrinkled face. "Look, I'm old. You're not. But you know what? I don't care. You're here." He took her hands in his. "You're really here. We'll sort out the rest." After looking around the room he turned back to her. "I'll see about getting you out of here soon. Bloody boring in here. As soon as Charity and Splitaxe have finished all their tests and documentation I've asked them to let you come back with me and Ginny to Godric's Hollow. Since they kids are all on their own there's plenty of room."

"And after that?" She stared at him as if trying to plant the answer in his head. "What's to become of me, Harry?"

He chuckled and patted her on the hand. "Apparently Jack says he owes you a dinner. As for everything else I'm not sure, but I'll tell them to keep nothing from you. We'll figure it out."

-ooo-

The first week was the hardest. Ron's daughter Charity and Splitaxe completed more tests, asked for pensieve memories, asked tons more questions and finally came to the conclusion that she wasn't mental, cursed, a new type of inferi, a vampire, a clone, a ghost, a poltergeist, a horcrux, a golem or anything else. Finally they presented Hermione with all their documentation and the three of them sat down to examine the issue.

It was when Charity mentioned that the only thing they hadn't ruled out was that she was a new strain of werewolf that Hermione remembered that night she had wished upon the moon. For some reason it had simply disappeared from her memory until that specific time. The new piece of data sent Splitaxe into overdrive researching the Native American legend. It was while he was planning his visit to the island that Hermione got the news she had been waiting for; she was leaving the Department of Mysteries and going with Harry back to Godric's Hollow.

The moment after the portkey left them in front of Harry and Ginny's house filled Hermione with elation and a severe case of nerves. She wanted to see Ginny, to see if her old friend was still the same, but part of her worried that it would never be the same again. As the door opened, and Ginny stepped out with a beaming smile on her face, Hermione hoped that she was just worrying herself too much.

She was. Ginny greeted her warmly, joked about her cane, and sat her down in the large kitchen. After Ginny shooed Harry away an young house elf appeared by Hermione's side.

"Tea...it's the Grangy!"

"Mitzy!" Ginny looked embarrassed. "Mitzy, we'll take tea in here, please."

Hermione saw the little elf wore an approximation of a school girl uniform, white shirt, plaid skirt and a little tie. "Hello, I'm..."

Mitzy nodded ferociously. "You're the Grangy! Mitzy heard you were back! Waits until I tell Mummy!" Her eyes went wide in fear and her voice settle down. "Mitzy be getting tea now, Mrs. Ginny."

As soon as the elf had trotted away Hermione looked over to Ginny in confusion. "I'm almost afraid to ask..."

Ginny settled herself in the chair and sat her cane by the sofa. "It was your house elf legislation, all those years ago. The S.P.E.W. law. You, Hermione Granger, are house elf royalty."

"Bloody hell!"

"HA!" Ginny pointed a finger at her. "I knew it! You curse just like everyone else!"

"After what I've been through, do you blame me?"

Ginny sighed. "No, I don't. And you're so damn young and thin! Oh, here we are." She motioned towards the floating tea service, which was sat down on the table by a very reverent Mitzy. "Thank you, Mitzy. Yes, you may tell the others, but you've done that, haven't you?"

"Mitzy couldn't help it."

"It's quite all right, dear." Ginny picked up the box and flipped it open. "Since I knew you were coming I thought this would be appropriate. Sprinkles or chocolate? I can't remember."

Hermione laughed. "Sprinkles but chocolate isn't bad, either."

For the next hour the two friends played catch-up on an almost unprecedented scale. Ginny glossed over the obvious by just calling Hermione's absence 'when you were away' and launched into everything else. George's four marriages (Angelina Johnson, Susan Bones, Angelina Johnson, Angelina Johnson), Percy opening his legal practice and marrying a Muggle woman, Charlie's eventual wedding to a much younger Romanian witch, culminating eventually with the story of Ron and Verity.

"I hope you don't hex me for this Hermione..."

"Can't. They haven't given me my wand back yet. That's next week."

"Oh. Sorry." Ginny took a sip of tea. "I know you and Ron ended peacefully...George lost a bet on that, by the way...I'm sorry, but after you'd gone Ron dated a few times, never anything serious. He and Verity were always at the shop, and they told each other everything, friends first. Then, when he started developing feelings for her, he got worried and came over to see me. He..."

"Let me guess." Hermione sat back against the chair, the shock of Ginny being old having worn off long ago. "He wasn't sure because of what happened to us, right? I've been there. Am there? It's confusing. But he..."

"Right, he wasn't sure." Ginny narrowed her eyes and looked at her friend. "And this is something I never thought I'd ask you, but what are your intentions towards my grandson? When you left you and Ron just broke up, are you just using him?"

"Ginny Weasley!"

"Potter, dear, it's Potter but never mind me." She waved her off. "Don't answer, I'm sorry, ignore this old woman. I'm just protective of him after..."

"Sonja." Hermione crossed her arms. "He told me all about her."

"Not good." Ginny pointed to her. "Not about telling you, about the arm thing. I remember that."

"Oh. Sorry." Hermione relaxed. "Honestly?"

"Hermione?" Ginny's expression softened. "Please. It's us. I've missed this so much. So many times I've wanted to Floo you when Harry was being stubborn and a pain in the arse and I wanted to sell the children and move to Jamaica, I needed you but you weren't here. I'm sorry, I know to you it's just been a few weeks or months or whatever since you and Ron broke up, but it's been over fifty years for me."

"Ginny, I dated your brother and now I think I'm dating your grandson. Who in the world could ever say that to you?"

"Lavender Brown came close, actually, but it was my son, not my grandson. Went on a date with James once. Harry came unglued, and he was the calm one."

"I...well...bloody fucking hell!"

"She's still a tart, even at her age." Ginny rolled her eyes but then turned back to Hermione. "He wrote to us, when you were on the island. Said he'd met an English woman over there named Jean. He and Harry are very close, closer than he is with his father." She sighed and crossed her legs. "That's a firewhiskey story, but it isn't mine to tell. But the letters...he was happy, Hermione."

"I was too."

"Well, he's coming over to dinner tonight. You remember all of Mum's Sunday dinners over at the Burrow?" Ginny laughed a long time, her eyes crinkling in happiness. "All of my children and grandchildren are coming over. It's just the same. Oh." She stopped suddenly. "Ron has asked about you, of course, but he didn't know if you wanted him to come."

"Of course." Hermione smiled. "I'd love to see him. But tell me, or do you have a picture...I don't want to be too shocked."

"I understand." Ginny took out her wand and waved it at the far wall. A medium-sized picture frame floated off the wall and landed in Hermione's hands.

The cherry wood frame showed a Quidditch pitch, four men standing next to each other holding brooms. Harry Potter, James Potter, Ron Weasley and Jack Potter. Harry was salt and pepper, James was full black, Jack had long black hair and Ron Weasley was completely bald.