Chapter 5: Going Back
As she slowly started to gain consciousness the reality of what she'd chosen began to sink in; she'd known that it would happen, logically, that she'd be back in her time and that Jack would not be there. She knew this as sure as the sun would rise in the East, but the emotional impact was something she also knew she should have expected but, somehow, didn't. The sun was just beginning to rise over the small group of trees in what seemed to be a park, and she was thankful for that. As it was very early nobody would be out and about, none of her friends would be owling her and she wouldn't have to worry about work. Work. She had a job in this time, a job that now had new meaning and purpose, as she had been to the house elf land in the 'other' time.
As the sun began to rise higher above the trees she took a look at her watch, but it was useless; the hands were spinning and they were wrong. The hour hand was going anti-clockwise but the minute hand was spinning in the correct direction, but at five times the rate of speed. She'd have to get a new one, obviously the time-travel had made hers a bit wonky. Thankfully she did recognise the park, it was near her house, a place she used to come on walks with her mum. But as her stomach rumbled it became rather obvious that she was hungry, that the time from when she'd left under the bright moon to the current time was enough to make her realize that she may not have Jack's stomach but she did need something to eat.
Jack. As she began walking out of the park she couldn't help think of him. How many times now would she dwell on him, and wonder what could have been? And the thought came to her again, unbidden, and even though she tried to crush it down and send it away it stayed there, lingering; what would happen when he was born and she was an old lady? Would he remember anything, not the things that happened on the island, or what came after, but would somehow even as a baby or a small child would he sense something different between them? And how could she reconcile that, as a favoured aunt, great-aunt, grand-aunt, whatever it was called, that she would always think of the Jack-she-knew and compare him to the Jack-that-is. She would have to move on, of course, it would be immeasurably too unseemly for her to wait for Harry and Ginny's grandson. And Jack-that-will-be could potentially be a completely different person than her Jack-that-was. Her mum always said that living for the maybes makes you miss out on the nows.
She stopped and looked around; things looked...odd. Certain buildings she had known all her life were...gone. The shop she and her Dad used to visit every Saturday for her father's single indulgence of sweets for the week looked as if it had been demolished and was currently being rebuilt. Something was wrong. Panic started to creep in, her breath coming hard and rapid. With quickening steps she returned to the park, thinking about what could have possibly gone wrong and trying to piece together what little information she had.
Sitting quietly on an out-of-the-way bench she watched a man walk his dog, and focused on anything about the man that might give her a clue. He wore a Muggle suit and waistcoat, which didn't help her as that could mean it would be any time since the Victorian era. The hat was a bit unusual for her time but not unknown, so she waited and continued to watch, discreetly, as the man sat on a bench slightly off towards the edge of the park but still within her sight. He tied off the dog's lead on the bench, took out a newspaper from his pocket and unfurled it, reading. The time waiting for the man to possibly finish reading his paper was agonising. There was a rather large potential that the man wouldn't dispose of his paper but move on, making that method unusable to discover where, and more importantly, when she was. Eventually, though, he did toss the newspaper in the rubbish bin. It was all she could do to sit still and wait the appropriate amount of time to go to the rubbish bin without being seen. Once the man and the dog were safely out of sight she ran over to the rubbish bin, plunged her hand in and grabbed the newspaper. Turning it so she could read it she saw the date and swallowed.
9 September, 1947
She sat down on the bench, rubbed her eyes for a moment, and then read the paper from beginning to end, adverts, rationing substitute recipes, even the Agony Auntie column. Once she was finished she was absolutely, positively sure that she was in post-Second World War Britain. The thought of seeing her parents now was, frankly, ludicrous; in September 1947 her mum wouldn't be born for another month and her father was...she paused and laughed. Her father was not yet a year old. Her father was not yet a year old. She'd never met her grandparents, as they had died before she was born. She knew exactly where they lived as it was where she had lived; the house she grew up in was the very same house her father grew up.
Hermione sat on the bench for a while longer, going over all the possible drawbacks meeting her father as a baby might have but after a bit, realising she was in completely uncharted waters again, threw caution to the wind. Finding a slightly obscured portion of the park she thought about her destination, deliberated only a moment and with great determination Apparated away.
-ooo-
With a worryingly loud POP she appeared in the back garden. Initially the house looked exactly the same as she remembered, but then she noticed little things, small differences as the roses were small and not climbing, the shutters were in very bad need of a new coat of paint and there was no air-con unit for the house. That made sense, as air-con came much later, as her father used to tell her how lucky she was when she was a child, and the shutters would not have been painted as all the paint had to go to the war effort. But cataloguing all the differences immediately went out of her mind as the back door was thrown open, a young woman with a kerchief on her head and a baby on her hip stared at her with abject fear in her eyes.
"Who are you?" The woman clutched the baby tighter. "You aren't taking him!"
Hermione held up her hands. "I'm not taking anyone. Honest."
The girl bit her lip slightly and shifted the baby who was beginning to fuss over to her other hip. "Why didn't you come to the front door?" She seemed to falter a bit and her voice became soft, but full of fear. "Are you from the Ministry?" And then, turning quickly, the girl's eyebrows went down and her voice changed, her tone defiant. "You're not taking him."
"I'm not taking anyone." Hermione kept her hands in what she hoped was an non-threatening gesture. "I was hoping to see Dr. Granger."
"Oh." The girl's demeanor changed. "Sorry."
"It's quite all right." Hermione exhaled and dropped her arms to her side.
"You'll have to go to hospital if you want to see him, though. His shift will be over in about an hour, so you'd have to hurry." The girl looked at Hermione, somewhat oddly. "How did you get in our garden? Did you just pop in?"
Hermione's mind went into overdrive; the Ministry, popping in...was the girl, who at that age must obviously be the nanny, a witch? She cleared her throat. "Yes, well, sorry, I was determined to see Dr. Granger and, deliberated for a moment and then just arrived here at my destination. Sorry to not use the door." Initially she was quite happy as she saw the flick of recognition on the girl's face but then the girl sank down to the doorway, baby in her arms, and put a hand over her face and began to weep.
Hermione ran forward. "Oh no, no, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry, are you..."
"Here. Take him. I know that's what you want." The girl thrust the squalling infant into Hermione's arms and buried her head in her hands. "I gave up my wand, I gave it up and when I married Owen they said it was done but I knew they'd never give up. Take him. Take my baby away!"
Hermione stood there, the baby in her arms still squalling, and stared at the girl in front of her. The girl that was not the nanny but a girl who looked to be barely old enough to be out of Hogwarts, the girl who had married Dr. Owen Granger, the girl who was her grandmother. Her grandmother was a witch. A small pull on her hair made her attention shift as the enormity of it all hit her; she was holding her father as an infant, and the distraught girl sitting on the floor with her back against the door was her grandmother. The witch.
"I don't want to take your baby away." Hermione eased herself down towards the floor as gently as she could without dropping the baby. "I think he wants you." She eased the baby into the girl's arms, where she hugged it tightly. With her voice low, soft and hopefully comforting, she continued. "I am a witch, like you, but I am...lost, and need your help."
The girl sniffed and comforted her child, which had quieted somewhat. She looked over to Hermione, curious. "Why me? I don't even have...one of those things, anymore."
Hermione sighed. "I'm afraid it's rather a long story."
The girl looked at her intently for a while before nodding, a decision made. "Everything. You will tell me everything over tea once he's down for a nap." She paused, her anger visible on her fair features. "But I'll be having your wand. Just in case."
"Of course." Hermione gave a slight, relieved smile as she reached in and handed over her wand to her grandmother. "Of course, Eugenie."
The girl's eyes went wide. "How did you know my name?"
"Like I said, it's a rather long story."
-ooo-
She followed them into the house, eyes wide. She had seen pictures of the house, never in the foreground, only in the background of family pictures that her father would look at occasionally. Most of the family pictures had perished in a fire when her father was a teenager, as he'd accidentally burnt part of the sitting room trying to hide a cigarette when he was in, what he called, his 'rebellious phase. He looked at the remaining pictures every now and then, usually when he was trying to remember something or that summer when he'd torn out a wall to make the kitchen larger. It was the kitchen they had entered, and it's small size made her stop. She remembered that it had been smaller, but that was when she herself was small, before Hogwarts. Now, looking at the everyday items which looked as if they belonged in one of the BBC dramas her mum loved so much. She stood there in the kitchen, unable to move, wondering if she should wait or follow, ultimately deciding to sit at the very small table tucked in the corner.
She heard the baby cry for a bit, rather unnerved that it was her father's crying, and then picked up her head, straining to hear as the crying lessened. It was the lullaby her father had sung to her when she was small, the same lullaby he sang to her before Hogwarts when the children at her Muggle school had been awful to her. She had known back then that she was too old to have a lullaby sung to her but felt it comfort her. Now she heard that same song, in the same house, but sung by...her grandmother. Her grandmother the witch.
Her mind was spinning. How would she get back to her own time? She'd said the words precisely. Her own time. But this wasn't her own time, far from it. Would she need to go back to that island, to once again wish upon the moon? Would she ever be able to go back? How would being here affect things. For Merlin's sake, she'd held her own father as an infant. The sound of footsteps brought her back to the present, and with a series of deep breaths to calm herself she waited.
Eugenie walked into the kitchen and eyed the woman sitting at her kitchen table. She went to the cooker, started the tea and turned back to Hermione. "How do I know this isn't a trick? I signed the papers, gave it all up. They said it was over, but I didn't think they'd give up so easily."
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, paused, and then sighed. Her shoulders slumped. "I have no idea how to prove to you that I'm not after...your baby."
"How about you start with that story?" Eugenie sat down across from her and sat Hermione's wand on the table. "Begin at the beginning."
"Merlin's pants, that would take all night." Hermione reached up and moved her hair out of her face, as it wasn't cooperating very well. When she did that she noticed Eugenie give her a rather odd look. "Yes?"
"Your hair."
"What of it?" Hermione pushed back an unruly section. Without saying a word Eugenie reached up and took off her kerchief, releasing a mass of curls. Curls the exact same colour and composition as Hermione's. "Oh."
Eugenie nodded. "Oh, indeed. What's your name?"
For a moment Hermione thought of using the alias she had on the island with Jack, her middle name and her mum's surname, but something in Eugenie's eyes made her decide that total honesty was the only way forward. "My name is Hermione. Hermione Granger."
Eugenie tilted her head at her for a moment and then shook her head. "Owen doesn't have any family left. And you've cursed that hair every day of your life, haven't you?"
Hermione paused. "Well, not really cursed, but yes. I've never been happy with my hair."
The expression on Eugenie's face darkened. "I'm not saying cursed as in cursed. You know what I mean. Where are you from?"
"Here." It came out before she could think about it. Hermione took a deep breath. "I grew up here." She paused for a moment. "I grew up here. In this house."
"Bollocks. Owen's family built this house in the twenties. You did not grow up here." She paled suddenly. "You...you aren't family to...Wilson?"
"I...no." She shook her head. "I am not related to anyone named Wilson. Daddy did the genealogy." She saw the odd look on Eugenie's face. "Our family tree. Daddy traced it..."
A flood of relief went through Eugenie's face. "Oh thank the stars. I..."
Whatever was to be said was cutoff by the whistle of the kettle. Without a word Eugenie got up, pulled a little teapot from the cabinet, added the tea and water and then sat the teapot on the table. Once that was complete she went to a different cabinet, took out two teacups and saucers and sat them on the table, and then retrieved a small jar from the cupboard.
"It'll have to be honey, we don't have..."
"Of course, sugar is rationed." Hermione nodded. "I'd forgotten about that."
"Forgotten?" Eugenie sat down and stared at her. "We haven't had decent sugar in ages." She looked at the wand again and pulled it off the table. She poured the tea and pushed a cup over to Hermione. "Who are you? Really?"
While adding the honey to her tea Hermione answered without looking. "My name is Hermione Jean Granger. I was born on the nineteenth of September...1979. And I grew up here. In this very house."
Eugenie sucked in her lips for a moment and then shook her head. "Right. You're having me on. I still think this is a load of bollocks. You're just trying to keep me talking while someone goes upstairs and takes Mikey, aren't you?" She leaned forward and glared at her. "I signed the fucking papers, I gave up my fucking wand and if you're taking him its over my dead body."
Hermione sat back and lifted up her hands in a motion of surrender. "I can assure you I am definitely not taking him. And I'm telling the truth." She paused. "What do you mean you signed the papers?"
After stealing a glance at the clock on the wall Eugenie sat back and took a sip of tea. "Owen will be home soon. We'll sort this out, but you're not going anywhere. I've got your wand. And if you do anything, anything fishy I'm ringing the police." After another sip of tea she took Hermione's silence as tacit approval. "So you say you're from when?"
"Oh." Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's a very complicated question."
"No, no it's not. What was the date before you got here?"
With an exasperated sigh Hermione leaned forward, putting her head in her hands. "2062."
Eugenie gave her an incredulous look. "You're full of shit. First you tell me you were born in..."
"1979."
"Right." Eugenie steamed forward. "First you tell me you were born in 1979 and now you tell me before you got here it was 2000-something. I may not be a witch anymore but that's impossible."
Hermione sighed. "That's what I thought as well."
The sound of a door opening and closing from the front part of the house was heard, followed by somewhat unsteady footsteps and a man's deep voice. "Genie, you home?"
Eugenie stared at Hermione for a moment and then replied in a somewhat louder voice. "In the kitchen."
An older man walked oddly into the kitchen, looked surprised and then kissed Eugenie on the head. "I didn't know we had company. Hello, there."
Hermione stared at a man she'd only seen in pictures. She'd known that her grandfather Granger was older than her grandmother, but she had only seen pictures of him when he was much older. Now, seeing him much younger, in what she thought was his early forties, was rather unnerving. She watched as he took off his jacket, loosened his tie and took out another cup and saucer from the cabinet.
He sat down somewhat oddly, poured the tea and then looked at both of the women at the table. "Are we just going to sit here or is someone going to do the introductions?"
Hermione's mind raced back to when she'd been accepted into Hogwarts, how her parents were amazed that she was a witch; they'd dug out the genealogy book from one of the shelves and had poured over it, trying to figure out if any of her relatives had been magical. During that time her father and her mum had told her stories of their families, and it was at a time like this that Hermione was glad she was able to retain the information. She cleared her throat. "Your name is Owen Elliot Granger. You fought in the war as a medic and..." She paused, as his motions now made sense. "...and you lost a leg and they shipped you home. Your first wife, um...Helen. Helen was lost in the blitz. You're a surgeon."
Owen blinked several times and rubbed his bald head. "Good lord!"
She looked over to Eugenie. "Does he know?"
Eugenie was looking at her oddly. "Does he know what?"
"About..." Hermione paused. "About the thing of mine you took from me?"
"Oh. Yes." Eugenie nodded. "He knows I used to be a witch."
The phrase 'used to be' rolled around in Hermione's head as questions swirled. She saw Owen and Eugenie whispering to each other, but couldn't act. Finally she saw Owen nod and turn to her.
"Genie says you came into the garden like...like they do. Are you a witch?"
The question jolted her out of her reverie. "I am."
He leaned forward, a rather intense look in his eyes. "Then what in God's name are you doing in my house? We promised to raise him properly, to let them know if anything...happens. It's all official. We're not giving him up."
The strain of everything finally got to her and she rolled her eyes, huffed and crossed her arms. "I am not here to take away your baby! I'm lost, truly lost, and I need help." She pushed back the chair and began pacing around the little kitchen. "I have no earthly idea why I'm here, I shouldn't be here, not at all, but here I am. I've tried to explain it to her but she won't fucking listen. I told her but she doesn't believe me." She turned to see Owen looking at her oddly. "What?"
He glanced over to Eugenie. "Seem familiar to you?"
"Stuff it." Eugenie crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair. "She says she's a Granger."
"Really?" Owen stroked his white mustache and motioned with his hand. "Please have a seat. I'm interested to know how we are related, as I don't have family any more."
"Oh." Hermione's voice was soft. "I'm sorry. I'd forgotten." She sat down and watched as Owen patted Eugenie on her arm, only to have the girl pull her arm away.
Eugenie looked over to her husband. "Ask her when she was born. No, wait, ask her her name first."
Hermione huffed a bit. She wasn't this difficult, was she? "My name is Hermione Jean Granger and I was born in 1979."
Owen nodded a few times. "Right then. 1979. And who might your parents be?"
Hermione sat there, debating. As Harry always said, in for Gnut, in for a Galleon. "My mum is Elizabeth Ann Wiltshire and my father is..." She looked over to Eugenie and then to Owen. "...Michael David Granger."
"No bloody way." Eugenie sat back in her chair as if stunned. "No bloody way."
"Language." Owen turned from his wife to the girl in front of him. "Hermione, is it? Shakespeare?"
She nodded. "Daddy wanted to sit for literature but decided against it, but he always loved Shakespeare."
"Yes, well." Owen took a sip of tea. "So if that is so, your father is currently upstairs taking a nap as he's a baby. That would make you my granddaughter."
Eugenie smacked him on the arm. "You can't believe this? Honestly?"
Owen shrugged. "You were a witch, dear. I'm assuming this is all from magic." He turned to Hermione. "This is from magic, isn't it?"
Now it was Hermione's turn to act as if she'd been hit by a stunner. Her grandfather, a Muggle, a man of medicine was believing her while her grandmother the witch thought she was having her on. "Yes. Yes, it is."
"Hmmm." Owen looked over to Eugenie. "You can't tell me you didn't notice. Especially the hair."
Eugenie perked an eyebrow at him. "Of course I saw the hair, Owen. I'm not blind."
"And then there was the pacing and the arms." He looked over to Hermione. "And the language."
"I apologise." Hermione quickly added. "Sorry about that."
"Well, if I was back in time I'd probably say a few choice words as well." Owen waved her off. "Completely understandable."
Hermione was in shock. Her parents had been completely unbelieving when McGonagall had shown up at their door bearing her Hogwarts letter. Even the few transfiguration spells she'd cast had done nothing to make her parents believe, and it was only after they had spent a good hour talking things out with her former Head of House that they finally came around to believing that not only was magic real, but that their daughter was a witch. And now her Muggle grandfather was sitting at the table, acting as if someone popping in from the future was the sort of thing that happened every day. It was his tap on her arm that shocked her back to reality.
"Sorry, didn't mean to frighten you." He looked at her inquisitively. "But 'there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' Correct?"
Hermione felt a warmth fill her. "Hamlet. I can see where Daddy gets it."
Owen turned to Eugenie. "When I met you, and found out everything, well, it shook the mooring. Quite a change to realise that witches and wizards exist. You showed me, before Mikey was born and you gave it up. If you could turn the teapot into a mouse why couldn't she come through time?"
Eugenie scoffed. "I still don't believe her. I still think..." She paused and with a sigh looked over to Owen. "I still think some unknown relation of William found out and want to take him."
Owen leaned close to Eugenie and put his hand on hers. "I always said that I'd raise him as my own, and if that time ever came we'd deal with it. But he was the last as well, wasn't he?"
Hermione sat back in her chair, shock coursing through her. Raise him as my own? Did that mean…
Owen took a deep breath and stood up, bracing himself slightly upon the table and walked out of the room, returning shortly with a thin folder. He sat down, opened the folder and turned it towards Hermione. She slid the folder closer and stared at the parchment It was a legal document, a document from the Ministry of Magic. Reading quickly she realised that Owen Granger had married Eugenie May Templeton, and then her father was born four months later. Another parchment detailed the birth of Michael David, at St. Mungo's, but no surname was given. Flipping quickly to the next page she saw the legal agreement; the adoption of Michael David Granger. She looked up, confused. "I don't understand."
A baby's cry was heard from upstairs. Eugenie, obviously emotional, looked at them both for a moment before wordlessly going upstairs. Owen sat back, studying the girl. She had Eugenie's hair, no two ways about that, not to mention the temperament. She was a witch, but more than that, if his intuition was correct, the girl was his granddaughter. Coming to a decision he nodded. "It's best she's up with Mikey. It's hard for her."
Hermione sat enraptured as Owen told his tale. As she had said, his first wife Helen had died during the blitz, when he was deployed. When he came back to England after he had convalesced and had been fitted for his wooden leg he'd taken up medicine again, as doctors were needed on the homefront as well. But the loss of Helen had hit him hard, as they had never had children. He thought he was too old, but the loneliness had been too much to bear; he'd seen the ad for the 'introduction service' in one of the papers and against his better judgment had signed up. As he was leaving a young woman had run out of the same office in tears, bumping against him, and with his leg he'd fallen. She had hesitated, but returned to help him up, and he could see that she was distressed, almost to the point of being frantic. He felt for the girl, so young, and took her for a cup of tea to steady her nerves.
He sighed. "She was so scared. It all came rushing out, as I believe she had told no one. She was pregnant, her man had died in the war, and her family would disown her if they found out. Think about that. Young, pregnant, no resources...well, my heart went out to her. I asked her if she had seen a doctor and when I found out she hadn't, well, I couldn't let that pass. Excused myself for a moment, rang up a friend of mine in obstetrics and made her an appointment. To be honest I didn't know if she'd be still there when I got back. She was, though."
Hermione shook her head. "I had no idea. Daddy had no idea."
Owen raised his eyebrows for a moment. "That's good to hear, I guess. Means we've raised him right."
Hermione looked at him oddly. "I still can't believe you, well, believe me."
He sat back and adjusted his leg. "Magic makes anything possible, from what I know. Why wouldn't this be possible?"
"That's...very logical."
"Thank you. More tea?"
"Please."
As she drank her tea he continued his story. He'd forgotten about Eugenie until she showed up at his doorstep one night. He had no idea how she'd found him, but let her in for a cup of tea. Eugenie was in bad shape, and he found that she'd been sleeping rough, which bothered him tremendously. Thinking about what he could do he offered the girl the position of live-in housekeeper, which she accepted. They lived together as such until one day he came home from hospital early and found her in the kitchen, waving her wand, washing the dishes by magic. When she realised she'd been discovered she was frantic, as she knew the penalties for performing magic in front of a Muggle. He calmed her down, and after finally getting her to talk learned her tale.
Her lover had been a wizard and had died in the war against Grindelwald. He had promised her marriage but had died before that could happen, and also before he could have learned she was pregnant. Her family had cast her out once they had learned that she was pregnant out of wedlock, cut all her ties, magically severing her from the family. No amount of magic would ever be able to trace her to her family. She cried as she told him the penalties for him catching her performing magic, and then he asked if there was any way out of the situation, and she nodded, telling him.
"As sure as you're sitting here, right now, Hermione, I knew what I had to do. I couldn't leave her to...well, those people. I told her that I would take care of her, and the baby. We thought it was sorted, but then we got the owl."
"From the Ministry." Hermione's tone was sharp. She had read about how previous administrations had dealt with such 'issues' when she worked at the Ministry. It was one of those things that had led to her pacing and ranting in her office. Back then unmarried, pregnant witches had few rights. There were even cases of the Ministry removing children from unwed mothers, for the 'good of the baby.'
"I can see you have no love for them as well." Owen's face darkened. "They arrived the next day, two of them. It wasn't pleasant. They tried to talk her out of Mikey, well, we didn't know he was Mikey then, but they said they'd 'give him a good home.' I wouldn't have trusted those two to clean out a bedpan, let alone find a good home for him. I told them that I planned to marry her, and then he'd have a father, and I thought that would sort it but I didn't realise that I was a problem."
"Because you don't have any magic." Hermione fumed. "Just because..."
Owen held up a hand, stopping her. "Yes, because I'm a Muggle. I learned the word rather quickly. After discussing things they gave Eugenie a choice; give him up or give up her wand. If she did give up her wand, and Mikey ever shows any magic, he would be placed in a home. So you can see why you, as our granddaughter the witch, scares the hell out of her."
"Oh my God." Hermione covered her mouth with her hand for a moment. "She had to give up her magic to keep him."
"She did. They broke her wand in front of her. Papers came the next day. She had to have him at that wizard hospital. I never thought she'd come back, but she did. It's been hard for her, but it's a little bit better every day."
The two of them sat at the table in silence for sometime, Owen in memories of that terrible time, Hermione in shock at the revelations. Finally footsteps were heard and Eugenie came back into the kitchen and sat down.
She pointed a finger at Hermione. "I want you to tell me the truth. About Mikey." She handed her her wand. "Swear it."
Hermione took her wand in her hand, hoping that it would work. With a deep sigh she held up her wand. "I swear on my magic that I will tell you the truth about Michael Granger." A quick flash of light burst from her wand and then was gone.
"Is he..." Eugenie fearfully looked at Hermione.
"My father has no magic. He has never done even accidental magic. He studied at university and has a dental practice with my mum."
Eugenie stared hard at Hermione. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"Do something. With you wand."
"Oh." Hermione paused for a moment. "Lumos." The bright light emanated from her wand, a bit overpowered due to her emotions. "Nox. Sorry."
As Eugenie began to weep softly Owen put his arm around her. "See, I told you. Everything will be all right." He turned to Hermione. "So, Hermione, granddaughter, why exactly are you here?"
Hermione felt all the emotion that had bubbled along begin to burst and she put her head in her hands. "Because I'm lost. In time."
A/N: Things happen to witches and wizards that muck about with time, correct? You didn't think it would be that easy, right? I've always wondered, along with a lot of other people, if Hermione had magical relatives. Just having magic pop up in a family tree out of the blue always has seemed a little farfetched to me.
So what about Jack? Will she have to stay in postwar Britain? How the heck is she going to get back? That'll be sorted, eventually. Personally I enjoyed Gran and Grandfather Granger, even if it is a rather sad story.
I do have a plan for where it will all end up, never fear. I know I need to update other stories but this one is the one that keeps rolling around in my head. I even have an idea for another story but if I start another multi-chapter piece I'm afraid to think of what will happen. More soon, I promise.
As always, thank you for reading and review if you wish.
