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Dumbledore is going to seem a little out of cannon for part of this chapter.
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to JK Rowling.
Hermione was surprised by Dumbledore's abrupt start to the conversation. Quickly, and wordlessly, she cast silencing charms and other spells to ensure privacy.
Hermione swiftly took a seat opposite to Dumbledore. "With all due respect, sir, I don't know who I am." She fidgeted nervously as Dumbledore's bright eyes studied her.
Reclining back, he responded, "I see. Well, Hermione, I spent a great deal of time thinking since our last visit. I have come to the conclusion that you must be telling the truth. The amount of skill and finesse to implant a memory of that detail, with my older self in it no less, would be something no witch or wizard is able of. This leads me to believe that you are what you say, a time traveler."
Hermione let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir. Do you have any idea what I am doing here? The implications alone could cause catastrophes. One theory states that my mere existence here could change my past, your future. Another says that my being her is past of the past and nothing I do can change it. A third idea, novel at best, says that I will stop existing, either in this time or my past," Hermione rambled.
Dumbledore held up a hand, silencing Hermione's frantic train of thought. "I do believe that I could offer some insight into your circumstance. But first, might I offer you some tea?" Dumbledore waved his hand towards a pair of cups and they started to prepare themselves.
"Yes, sir. Two cubes of sugar please." Hermione accepted her cup. Even when he was younger, Dumbledore seemed to retain his idiosyncrasies. Hermione blew gently on it and sipped.
It was delicious. She could feel the warmth seep into her body. For the first time in a long time, Hermione felt safe, content. Dumbledore had his hand clasped on his lap, tea resting on his leg.
Hermione set her now empty cup on the table in front of her.
"What is your name?" Dumbledore asked.
"Hermione Jean Granger. Why are you asking? I already told you."
"Miss Granger, why are you here?"
"Professor, I told you that. I don't know"
"What is your date of birth?" Dumbledore leaned in an inquiring fashion.
"September 19th, 1979," Hermione blurted out again.
"What do you know about me?"
"You are Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. You were a Transfigurations professor and went on to become Headmaster at Hogwarts. You have the Order of Merlin, First Class. You are a half-blood. You have a brother, Aberforth, and a sister, Ariana. In a three-way fight between yourself, your brother, and Grindlewald, she was killed. You don't know who did it, but her death made you change and her corpse is your Boggart-" Hermione slammed her hand on her mouth to cutoff the flow of words.
"Professor! Did you drug me?" Hermione was indignant.
"A slightly diluted form of Veritaserum. How much of this information was supplied by Gellert?"
"None, you told me this all yourself." Hermione struggled to stand, but she found her limbs locked.
"How are you lying while under the effect of Veritaserum?"
"I'm not lying!" Well, maybe she was a little bit. Hermione, Harry, and Ron had constantly taken small doses of the truth serum to gain resistance. This and the fact that the Veritaserum in the future is much stringer meant that Hermione had a little control of her thoughts, but not much.
Dumbledore took a long, considering glance at the young woman who sat opposite him. "Very well, I believe you. I apologize for the deception, but I felt that caution was needed in this situation."
"Professor, there was a time when I sought your opinion above all others. I let you into my min to prove my trust, even thought what you could have seen would change history. Then you insult me by drugging me. So, Professor, because of the man you once were, I will hear you out this one time. Until a time, such that, I can pardon your actions, do not call on me again."
Dumbledore inclined his head, knowing nothing he said know would make a difference.
"I apologize, and I understand your point. You came here, now, to Hogwarts because of a spell I cast. It was extremely temperamental, elemental magic. It was a message, if you will, calling out for help. It is said that whatever appears next it the best thing that can help the user's situation. For some reason, you were sent."
"Well, Professor," Hermione scoffed, "I am known as the smartest witch of my age. My score are better than yours when you came here. You trained me yourself. I can only think of three wizards who are more powerful than myself, your future self, my Transfiguration professor, and a Dark wizard. Tell me, what type of help did you specifically ask for?"
"I asked for assistance to fight the Dark Lord."
Hermione paled. "Oh dear. We have a situation. The Dark Lord you intended to get help for is not a threat, not compared to my Dark Lord. You can defeat Grindlewald, but you are too afraid. I can't help you. I have a mission of much greater import."
Dumbledore sneered. "What could be more important than the current Dark Lord?"
"The future one. He is going to systematically wipe out the muggleborns and then take over the Muggle world, ruling them like slaves. Forgive me if your problems seem to pale in comparison to mine," Hermione finished with finality.
Hermione sat back and crossed her legs, sending Dumbledore a fierce glare. "Very well Miss Granger. I will take your advice to heart." Hermione simply nodded.
"Now, we have the issue of explaining your presence. You said you were a student during your time?"
"Yes, I was a seventh year and Head Girl, sorted into Gryffindor."
"I see. I will draw up some records. What classes should you take?"
Hermione relaxed, academics were well within her comfort zone. "NEWT level Arithmancy, Potions, Astronomy, Charms, Double Transfigurations, and Double Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Dumbledore raised his eyes at the list of intensive classes. "Well, the only other student with a schedule like that is our Head Boy-"
"Tom Riddle," Hermione finished bitterly.
Dumbledore waved his had and a quill began to write up her schedule. "Now, there is the more tricky matter of your identity."
"Yes. I have given this some thought. I am from Germany. Grindlewald invaded and massacred my town. I was homeschooled by my parents who made sure I left."
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, but what about your name and other things. I'm sorry but you cannot pass as a pureblood, they all grew up together from birth."
"I will be a half-blood." Hermione scratched her forearm as phantom pain shoot through her. "It is safer that way. My name will be…"
"How about Hermione Dawkins?"
"No, too girly. Hmm, I like the sound of Hermione Laird. Short, nice, to the point."
"Then it's been decided. Hermione Laird, welcome to Hogwarts." Dumbledore stood, handed me my class schedule and regally bowed his head.
"Hermione, I sincerely apologize for my actions. I will always be available for help, should you need it."
"Thank you for my schedule," Hermione said, resolutely ignoring his apology.
Hermione began to walk off. Dumbledore called out, "Please spend tonight in the medical ward. You will be sorted tomorrow during breakfast."
Hermione sent a "Thank you, sir," behind her but otherwise kept up her determined stride.
Hermione went where she went if she ever had free time, the library. Since classes were going on, the library was practically deserted.
Hermione took her time searching through the tomes that held little bits of her childhood. She remembered which ones she used for certain projects and essay. After a bit more reminiscing, Hermione began her task: looking for a book with the theory of time travel to see if she could get back home, her friends were in the midst of a war without her!
Hermione gathered her books, balancing them with practiced skill. She went to the windowsill that overlooked the lake, her favorite place for leisure reading. She read until the Sun went down and for a while beyond.
Her curiosity far from sated, Hermione made a pass by the kitchens and politely asked for food. The elves ran around banging their heads are her manners. Unfortunately, Hermione thought, her plans for SPEW would have to wait for a later generation.
Hermione made her way back to the medical ward. She chatted with Madame Hopkins for a while. Hermione slipped on her pajamas.
She lay down with trepidation. She couldn't tell if she was nervous for her Sorting or if she was worried about another nightmare. They made become far more vivid in the short while she had been in this new time.
Hermione gathered her Gryffindor courage and steeled herself. Resolutely, Hermione put her head back on her pillow. As an afterthought, Hermione grabbed her wand and held it in a loose grip. With that, Hermione lost herself to the deep abyss of sleep.