Chapter 8: Wednesday, October 31, 1979

"Remember there's no such thing as a small act of kindness. Every act creates a ripple with no logical end."

-Scott Adams


The smell of the air was the first difference Hermione noticed as she walked toward the castle. The wind swirled around her, brushing the too-tall blades of grass against her ankles as it kicked up the smell of wet earth. She could hear the owls as they flew the grounds, hunting for mice and chipmunks to take back to their dens as treats. The soft swishing of the lake, somewhere off to her left, the songs of the mermaids as they swam beneath its surface.

It felt peaceful. Foreign, almost, in the differences of her recollection. The wards were noticeable, but did not hang heavy in the air. The lights in the castle windows were soft, unpunctuated by interrupting defensive spells. The calm that sank into her chest was grating against the constant stress of the last several years. Forcing its way into the caverns of anxiety and high alert, stabbing tranquility into her tired muscles and wrapping a long-forgotten warmth through her center.

Hermione pushed open the heavy doors to the entrance of the castle, thankful that the action didn't disrupt the silence too much. She looked down at her watch, it was almost eleven. Students would be in bed, curfew should have ended two hours ago. She moved swiftly through the foyer, taking the stairs two at a time and rounding the corners until she came face to face with the gargoyle statue.

Her brows furrowed together as she realized she didn't have the password. Closing her eyes, Hermione wracked her brain, trying to think of something to say to gain her entrance.

"You do not look as if you are a student here, I assume you are not a danger, if you have made it past my wards."

The sound of the deep, sure voice nearly sent her to the ground. It had been so long since she had heard the familiar tone of Albus Dumbledore's voice. The inquisitive and slightly mischievous timbre the man seemed to always adorn, regardless of the circumstances.

Hermione turned around, her breath caught in her throat as her eyes landed on the ancient Professor. Even twenty-two years in the past, Dumbledore still looked the same. His white hair and beard, nearly reaching the middle of his violet robes, his half-moon spectacles perched on the end of his long, crooked nose. Hermione felt her eyes prickle with tears as she stared at the man, her chest tight with a strange brew of bitter sadness.

"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione whispered, "I apologize for calling on you so late, but it is imperative that I speak to you at once."

She watched his bright blue eyes as they scanned her, looking at her with curiosity. "I take an evening stroll every night, tonight I felt compelled to see the grounds after sunset, something I don't often take the time to appreciate. The air is peculiar tonight, wouldn't you agree?"

"Sir, I'm sorry but I don't-

"It is not a coincidence, it would seem, that you should show up in front of my chambers on a night the quality of air has shifted." Dumbledore leaned forward, whispering "licorice wand" to the gargoyle statue and smiling down at her before stepping into the rising spiral of stairs.

Hermione climbed the steps behind him, her mind reeling, trying to grasp that she was meeting with Dumbledore, talking to a man she knew to be dead for the last almost five years. She wondered, briefly, if it would tug in her chest like this for every encounter she had. Wondered if seeing James and Lily for the first time would take her breath away. If Sirius would still make her laugh the way he had the summer she stayed at Grimmauld Place before fifth year. If Remus would still draw her in with conversations over muggle books they had both read, consuming her thoughts for hours into the night as he had done in the past.

But then again, this was 1979, and these men she knew before- Sirius and Remus, would not be the men she knew. They would be much younger, much less damaged and very much alive. A new nervousness at the thought of this twisted in her gut, weaving through her chest in painful jabs as her blocked memory repressed strong emotions.

Hermione began to regret not having Draco obliviate her, not having him completely remove the memories of her life. This was going to be difficult, meeting people she already knew so much about, learning them in a different light, on equal grounds.

"Would you like tea?" The Headmaster asked, motioning to the tray set in precisely the same place McGonagall kept it, "Or perhaps this unexpected, late-hour meeting requires something stronger?"

Hermione shook her head, "Tea would be lovely, Professor, thank you." Even though she was well of age, drinking brandy with her old Headmaster seemed to be crossing some strange, invisible line she had drawn.

"Tea we shall have, then!" he quipped, waving his wand over the teapot and pouring a stream of steaming liquid into a small cup. He handed her the saucer and cup and she noticed his hand was normal, not the blackened, shriveled hand he had the last time she had seen him. She took a sip of the tea, scolding herself for being so shocked.

A few minutes passed in silence as they sipped their tea, Dumbledore regarding her with an unwavering curiosity from over the rim of his cup. Finally, Hermione gathered her courage and set the cup and saucer on the edge of the desk. She pulled her bag off her shoulders and dug through it, withdrawing the scrolled parchment and phial of memories from McGonagall and placed them in front of Dumbledore.

"Sir, My name is Hermione Granger. I am in the possession of an amulet, a Time Stone from the House of Black, that has allowed me the ability to come here from my own time," she tapped the letter. "This letter is from Minerva McGonagall, she gave me a memory to give to you to prove that I am who I say I am."

"What year is it that you are visiting from?" he asked, the tips of his fingers steepling together.

"2001, sir."

"Twenty-two years in the future," he said, "Interesting. And what brings you to Hogwarts? You are aware that you are well past the typical age for a student."

"I have already received my schooling, sir. I'm not here for that type of learning. I'm here to join The Order of the Phoenix, I need information that I was unable to obtain in my own timeline. Information that I believe you and your members have that was not passed on to the future generation."

Dumbledore held one wrinkled, slender hand up, "I do not wish to know anything further." He opened the scroll of parchment and Hermione watched as his eyes moved along the letter, left to right in a pace that rivaled her own.

Dumbledore moved from his chair, the phial of memories in his hand as he crossed the room and opened the cabinet against the wall to reveal the Pensieve. He emptied the phial and pressed his face to the surface, disappearing within its depths. Hermione resisted the urge to snag the letter from his desk, to read what McGonagall had written. Instead, she stood up and walked to the window, looking out over the grounds.

From where she stood, she could see the very top of the Shrieking Shack, and she wondered if the occupants, twenty two years in the future, would even realize she was gone. Had she already said something she shouldn't have? Had she misstepped and caused them to lose someone? She sighed, shaking her head slightly as she backed away from the window.

It would do no good to obsess over what changes could be happening. She was here for a reason, had a purpose. She needed answers, answers that would save lives. Save her life. She knew there were risks involved, knew that it could alter things if she revealed too much, that was the entire reason she had Draco alter her memories. If she kept spiraling downward into the thoughts of what could possibly go wrong, with experience, she knew they would go wrong. "Murphy's Law" her father had once called it, anything that can go wrong, will. You had better just accept this now, Hermione. As long as you don't actively try to change the future, whatever happens will unfold how it's supposed to.

Hermione pulled herself from her thoughts as she heard Dumbledore's chair move away from the desk. She didn't pay attention to how much time had passed, how long the memory was, but she was confident that whatever McGonagall had shown him was sufficient.

"Miss Granger, how is your French?"

"My French, sir?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Well you see, we can not possibly convince The Order of the Phoenix that you were a student at Hogwarts. A piece of your cover story that has been, unfortunately, overseen."

"I planned to admit to being schooled at home, sir. I am a muggle-born, but I think it safer to go under the assumption that I am a half-blood. Half-blood students have been known to receive both muggle and magical schooling in the past, with the highest rate of informally taught magical people. I planned to use this information to my advantage."

"It seems you have certainly done your research. Informal schooling? Interesting."

"Admittedly, sir, my schooling at Hogwarts in my time was a bit informal. I'm confident that my knowledge and magical skill will outweigh any negative connotations of having been homeschooled."

"If you're confident…"

"I am," she said. "I am a skilled healer, Professor, and fair with martial magic. I'm quite good with potions too. I would be useful to you while I'm here, I would be useful to the Order. I can assure you, I am not here for any nefarious reason. I'm simply here to collect information that will help the future generation undo some of the torment we have seen."

Dumbledore nodded his head, his face unreadable as he gazed at Hermione, "And what of the war, of Lord Voldemort?"

"The war has a very complicated history, one that I am certain you understand I can not divulge to you. And even if I wanted to, it would be impossible for me to give you any information. My memories of exact events have been removed for this assignment, sir. I didn't want to risk the possibility of causing any more damage than what we have seen." she answered.

"A noble conclusion, on your part." Dumbledore said, "I will call an Order meeting. We will arrive together in a quarter hour and I will introduce you as an ally."

Hermione sighed in relief. That had been the most direct thing she had ever heard come from Dumbledore, and she was thankful that he had accepted whatever McGonagall had shown him, and accepted her own word at value. She watched as Dumbledore moved to the Floo, poking his head into the grate and speaking quickly to whoever was on the other side.

She knew it was far-fetched, but she hoped the rest of the Order would be as accommodating, as trusting. The quicker she could get the information she needed, the quicker she could return home to her own time and begin working on a countercurse.


When Hermione stepped through the Floo and into the cottage at "Meadow's Meadow", she was greeted by several pairs of tired looking eyes. It was nearly midnight, and she was certain none of the Order had been expecting an impromptu meeting on All Hallow's Eve. She scanned the room, which seemed to be full to the brim, and her eyes landed on a group of three in the back left corner.

The shock of black hair, sticking up in every direction nearly knocked the breath from her chest. If she didn't know, without a doubt, that she had successfully made it back to 1979, she would have sworn it was Harry sitting in the chair, his leg propped against his knee as he leaned into the redhead sitting next to him. Hermione's eyes fell upon her and she felt her heart clench.

Lily was beautiful. Even clad in pajamas and her hair pulled high on top of her head in a sleep-disheveled bun. Her eyes, bright green and nearly glowing against her lightly freckled skin. She had her hand in James' lap, her thin fingers twisted around his and she yawned. Lily caught her gaze and her head tilted to the side, her eyes roaming over her briefly before she leaned over to whisper something to James. A moment later, James looked up, his eyes landing on her as well.

"Are we all here, then?" A familiar, gruff voice sounded from behind Hermione and she whipped her head around. A gruff and much younger Mad Eye Moody stood a mere foot from her, he wore long robes, but judging by his posture, she could tell he had already lost his leg by this point. He did, however, have two eyes. A quality that felt jarring to her at first glance. Had she just assumed the man only ever had one eye?

"Sirius isn't here yet," Lily's voice came from the back corner, light and almost melodic in the way she spoke. "Although, it's Halloween so I wouldn't expect him. Chances are he's in a pub, somewhere."

A soft round of chuckles filled the room and Moody seemed to be annoyed by it. "You can fill Black in, then. Dumbledore, you called the meeting, I expect you had a reason."

Instantly the room quieted and every person sitting at the table looked to the front of the room. Hermione found herself feeling like a child again, wanting to tuck behind Dumbledore and hide from the prying eyes that looked at her in suspicious curiosity.

"This evening I was approached by this young witch, who is in need of our assistance," Dumbledore began, motioning to Hermione. "She has been uprooted from her home, her parents have been killed."

Hermione listened as Dumbledore gave the Order the false backstory she and McGonagall had provided. She watched as the faces of the Order listened intently, their faces slowly drooping with sadness as he gave details of her fake family's murder. She briefly wondered if anyone else knew how good a liar the man was, if anyone suspected anything but the truth to be pouring past his lips.

"I have been assured that Miss Granger is proficient in healing and potions. She will remain under Order protection until otherwise decided," Dumbledore ended his small speech with a soft smile as he looked at Hermione.

"Where do you expect her to stay?" A blonde woman at the front of the table asked.

"I planned on renting a room at the Leaky Cauldron until I'm able to procure a flat," Hermione spoke, her voice quieter than she would have liked. "I have money, that's not a problem. I have no plans on putting anyone out of their comfort."

"She can't stay at the Leaky!" Lily said in a furious whisper to the messy-haired man next to her. "James, we can't let her stay there! That place is disgusting!"

"Erm… If you'd like to stay with us, I erm, I guess that'd be fine," James said, his voice sounding so much like Harry's it made her stomach turn.

"Of course, it's fine!" Lily said, "We've got plenty of space."

"That's settled then," Moody said. "Potters, she's staying with you. At least for the night. If we're done here…?"

Dumbledore gave a nod and the table rose to their feet, a few people introducing themselves as they passed her to exit through the Floo. Emmaline Vance, a short, dark haired witch with a round face and dark eyes. A much younger Kingsley Shacklebolt, his deep, booming voice familiar and somehow far more friendly than she could ever remember it sounding. Frank and Alice Longbottom, a particularly strong twist in her chest upon meeting them. Neville looked exactly like Alice, only tall- like Frank. To see them here, of sound mind, instead of whispering nonsense in the Janus Thickey ward of St. Mungo's nearly brought her to tears.

"I'm Lily, by the way," she greeted. "And this is my husband, James."

Hermione shook both of their hands, "It's nice to meet you," she said, hoping she didn't sound overly emotional. "I'm H-Hermione Granger." she groaned inwardly at her stammering over her own name.

"I hope you don't mind, but you aren't the only one living with us. Remus does as well," Lily motioned to the man standing behind her, "And so does Sirius, but I doubt he'll be in tonight."

"Remus…" Hermione breathed, stepping back to look up into his face. He was taller than she remembered, had he always been so tall? His sandy hair was shaggy, hanging around his eyes and his face was littered with scars. His eyes were the same mossy shade of green, rimmed in gold.

"Yes?" Remus asked, looking at her expectantly, "Do I-

"Oh, no." she said, shaking her head. "Sorry. The name, Remus. Like, Remus and Romulus, the founders of Rome and sons of the Roman God Mars. It's an interesting name, is all." Nice, Hermione… Very smooth.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smirk, "Not many people know the origin," he said. "That's impressive. You know much about Muggle mythology?"

She shrugged, "Call it a hobby," she smiled, stretching out a hand to him. "Hermione."

He stared down at her hand, his eyebrows furrowing together. Hermione did not miss the elbow to the ribs that Lily gave him before he took her hand. "Nice to meet you," he mumbled.

"We'll apparate, if that's okay? I'll take you side along," Lily said.

"Sounds good, thank you."


When Hermione's feet hit the stone of the road in Godric's Hollow, she felt an almost overwhelming urge to cry that she didn't understand. The memory was there just under the surface, bubbling to the top, but she couldn't reach it. Couldn't see where the emotion was coming from. She felt her entire body tense, her mind working hard to figure out the missing puzzle piece.

"I have calming draught," Lily whispered, her arm still wrapped through Hermione's. "I'm sure you could use some."

"That would be wonderful, actually." she responded, thankful at the kindness of Lily.

They stepped through the front door of the cottage and Hermione was enveloped in the scent of fresh cut flowers and spices. As they moved through the small foyer and into the sitting room, she saw flowers and plants on nearly every surface, a few pots hanging near the windows and a large fern potted in a floor pot in the corner of the room.

The furniture was mismatched, yet somehow flowed in the room, two large comfortable looking arm chairs and a small sofa crowded around a long coffee table. Off the back of the sitting room was a large, eat-in kitchen with a table big enough to seat six. The high backed, upholstered chairs were each a different color and every place setting matched the chair set before it. She smiled to herself. This cottage was warm, and loving, and made for friends and family to spend time together in. Harry would have loved it.

Hermione jumped at the feel of something rubbing against her legs, when she looked down, she saw a very fat, grey house cat with white paws and long fur. "Oh! You have a cat!"

"We do," Lily said.

"Lily has a cat," James said. "That bloody beast hates me."

Hermione chuckled and bent over to offer the cat a scratch behind its ears, "I used to have a cat, I called him Crookshanks. He was half kneazle and very stuck up about it."

Lily laughed, "Chester here is all house cat. I've had him since I was young, poor thing had to stay with my sister until I graduated from Hogwarts."

Poor thing, indeed. "I'm sure he's happy to have you to himself now," Hermione said.

As she stood, Chester began a low, whinging growl, staring at the door with his hair raised. Soon after, Remus walked into the room, looking down at the cat with a look of contempt. The cat hissed at him, lunging for his ankles.

"Augh! Lily! Can you do something to keep this damn beast from attacking me every time I walk past it? It's been months!" Remus said, dancing around the cat as it tried to bite him.

"I'm sorry, Remus. I swear I thought he'd get used to you! We'll have to try giving him some treats, that seemed to help him warm up to Sirius." Lily said, scooping the cat off the ground and disappearing down the hall.

"Stupid cat," James said. "Damn thing hates everyone but her, and you, apparently." he looked at Hermione, an eyebrow arched.

"He just knows I like cats," she said, smiling. "Thank you again, for letting me stay. First thing tomorrow, I'll be looking for a flat."

James waved a hand at her, collapsing into one of the arm chairs, "Lily isn't going to let you leave so quickly, I'm sure."

"I'm going back to bed," Remus said. "I'll see you in the morning. It was nice to meet you, Hermione."

She offered him another small smile, "You as well."

Lily reentered the room, a phial in her hand of pale purple liquid and a smile on her face. She handed the phial to Hermione, "Calming draught," she said. "I'll show you to your room, if you like?"

"Yes, that would be lovely, thank you."

Hermione followed her down the hall past two doors, "The first door is the loo," Lily said. "The second is Sirius' room. Avoid that, if you like your fingers attached, he's rather particular about his things."

Hermione laughed, "Noted."

"It's really nice to have another witch in the house. I love the boys, don't get me wrong. But sometimes…"

"It'd be nice to have another girl to talk to," Hermione finished Lily's sentiment. "I know what you mean. Three of my closest friends were men, two of them I grew up with."

"What happened to them?" Lily asked.

"They're in a safehouse," Hermione answered. "Not sure when I'll see them again, hopefully soon."

"It's mental, isn't it?" Lily asked, "Everything that's been happening. It feels like it just started overnight. Like one day, everything was normal, we were at Hogwarts taking out N.E.W.T.'s and the next, we're in the Order."

"I know what you mean," Hermione said.

They stopped in front of a door and Lily pushed it open, "This is yours. Sorry it's a bit small. Peter was staying here, he likes smaller spaces, you see. But he's been gone a while, he's out on a mission. The room next to yours is Remus' and we're just over there-" she pointed to the last door. "If you need anything. Make yourself at home."

Hermione smiled, her heart warming, "Thank you."

Lily squeezed her shoulder before turning and walking back toward the sitting room.

Hermione entered the small room, flicking her wand to turn the lights on and closing the door behind her. There was a single bed, pushed against the wall and a dresser with a large mirror opposite the bed. Shoved against the corner was a small desk and an old chair. She pulled her back from her shoulders and dug through it, pulling out a pair of pink, cotton pajama bottoms and a white tee shirt that used to be Harry's. She pulled the elastic from her hair and ran her fingers through her curls, loosening them from the plait and letting them hang around her elbows. She changed into her pajamas and pulled the bank journal from the bag, writing in the details from the evening and who she had already met.

When she finally fell asleep, her watch read 2:02 and she had been listening to the soft snores coming from the room next to hers. As she drifted off, she found herself singing along to the low music playing in that same room, and wishing that she could tell Harry of his mother and the instant kindness she had shown.

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a/n: You've all been so patient waiting for our lovely Marauders to turn up! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

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