A/N: Special thanks to poka for the encouragement. This chapter might hit hard, stay with me though. It's going to pay off.

Thanks to George Cristian810 for the laugh. You've been blacklisted for your sins against punctuation. Sadly for you, the story is completely written and it shall continue. Also, I'm pretty secure in who I am and don't have a care to spare for tiny, insecure people. Best of luck.

For the young writers, don't ever let a tiny, insecure person discourage you from continuing your story. My older stuff is absolute crap, I cared what people thought back then and if I had been discouraged while I was learning, I wouldn't have the kept writing. This is fanfiction, you're the fan, write for you. Be grateful for constructive criticism provided in good faith, ignore the reviewers who have nothing to add to this community. You don't need their approval. If you really want to improve, find other writers you like, PM them for feedback. I guarantee you most will be glad to help.

Chapter 5: These Women

Thursday June 13, 1998 | Azkaban

"This place isn't so bad," Ron said as he followed Tonks and Harry through the deepest sections of the prison.

"Now," Tonks retorted. "The minister has been nearly as dedicated to reforming this place as he has been finding all the Death Eaters. Even after all the dementors were relocated, this place was miserable."

Harry only had the one occasion to be in the fortress when the former guards were free. The atmosphere was repressive. It hadn't occurred to him that it was more than just the dementor's influence. Until he assisted in the removal. Once they were gone, centuries of suffering left a mark. "Staffing this place wasn't easy either. The DMLE was short staffed once the co-conspirators were taken into custody. We took over an old muggle prison during the transition. The plan is to house only the most serious criminals here and the rest at Stonegate."

"Where did you put all the dementors?" Ron asked in a whisper.

Tonks and Harry exchanged glances. "They're in the Department of Mysteries."

"What? Like right below where we work? That doesn't sound like a good idea."

"Got a better one?" Tonks asked, unlocking a large cast iron door at the end of the hallway.

"You guys go on," Harry told them. "There's someone up here I want to talk with."

Ron was opening his mouth to ask who. Tonks pulled him along before he got a word out.

Making a sharp turn to the left, Harry walked along the stone aisle. "You got a corner cell and a window," Harry said as he approached Dolores' bars. She looked terrible. Her hair was long and lifeless. She looked like she'd lost weight. Large circles were etched under her eyes. "Black and white stripes really aren't flattering on you though. I could make a request to get you a pink jumpsuit."

She didn't say anything.

"You don't have to talk to me. You probably shouldn't without your lawyer. Hermione wanted me to let you know, she's recently hired Mary Cattermole to oversee an education program for muggleborn students before they start at Hogwarts."

"I don't know who that is," she said smugly, looking away from him.

"Well. Hermione is a mudblood who tricked you when she was just a fifth year student. Now she's in the minister's cabinet. Director of her own department."

Letting out an impatient huff, she looked at Harry again. "I know who she is. I don't know this Mary Chatterhold."

"Mary Cattermole. You tried to throw her in… well here… simply for having a wand and being born to muggles. We saved her the day we retrieved that locket you stole."

"I never stole anything."

That made him angry. "You've stolen much, Dolores. Happiness, loved ones, safety, security... from hundreds of people. We just wanted you to know that the people you tortured aren't letting you stop them from living their lives and making our world better."

"I was just following orders."

"We both know you do more than that."

She sat straighter, defiant. A shadow of the old Umbridge. "If I were you, I would be concerned with whatever thing still lives here."

His eyes narrowed. "What still lives here?"

"I don't know what it is," she enunciated each word. "You could read my complaints about it."

At that, he rolled his eyes. "You are a prolific complaint filer. It's hard to know which requires our priority attention."

"Well. There is something that stalks these hallways at night. I was under the impression prisoner safety was a priority."

"It is. Even the noisy ones. I'll look into it. Enjoy your life sentence," he said and walked away from her. Of all the Death Eaters he had arrested, he wished he had been an Auror when they took Dolores. He read the report. She tried the imperius defense. People who worked with her were falling over themselves to provide evidence of her guilt in exchange for leniency. Some didn't even care about that. It turned out, no one liked her. That was satisfying in itself.

Despite her being such a pain in the ass, he couldn't rule out that she had seen something in the prison. They couldn't know what else had been living there, attracted to the suffering and despair. He'd mention it to Williamson.

When Harry caught up to his partners they already had Bellatrix in restraints and dosed with potions. They weren't taking a single chance with her. Lucky for them, Ophelia agreed to interview the prisoner at Azkaban so they wouldn't have to worry about moving her off the island. And she wouldn't be anywhere near Hermione. Harry took up the rear to watch for any sign of their prisoner coming out from under the sleeping draught. Tonks directed the levitated witch, letting Ron lead them out.

"Tonks. You hear anything about something lurking here. Any credible reports?"

"What? Like a dementor we missed?" she asked, not looking up from her task.

"No. I don't think so."

"Talk to Nelson. He's writing the initial report on the conversion from dementors to aurors. He's been reading all the complaints."

Finding Ophelia and Balin waiting outside the interview room, Harry nodded. "Give us a minute to get her secured."

Harry walked Ron through the process, explaining each detail. Glad his friend was taking notes, it seemed he was taking his training more seriously than he did school. "She's ready for the wideye potion," he told Tonks, and stood near Ron. "It's important for the same auror to administer the counter potions. That ensures the amount is consistent and the right potions are used."

The prisoner jerked in her seat as soon as the first drop hit her tongue. "All right there, dear aunt."

Bellatrix tried to push Tonk's hand away. She could only scowl as she realized her wrists were shackled to the table. "I don't agree to this."

Rolling his eyes, Harry held the door open for Ophelia. "You don't even know that this is."

"Mis'ess. Lestrange," Ophelia started talking before she even sat down. "You have been notified of your rights and every time you have declined to have a solicitor during official interviews. Is this still your choice?"

"What good are they?"

Ophelia sat down and placed a file folder on the desk. "I need you to declare this is your choice for the record."

"Yes. Yes. This is my choice," Bellatrix said impatiently. "Get on with it so I can go back to my cell."

"We have observed a recent interview with Tom Marvolo Riddle, suspected product of a gemino charm. He has incriminated you in the use of an imperius spell not otherwise recorded or found in your confessions, such that they are. We need to confirm the veracity of this claim," Ophelia pressed on, unphased by the outburst.

Bellatrix let out a laugh. "All the things I've done, you're worried about an imperius curse? The ministry has nothing else to do? Fine, yes I did it."

Opening the file folder, Ophelia sighed. "You don't even know who I am referring to yet."

"What does it matter—" Bellatrix started to dismiss the statement and then caught a look at the picture in the file. Tom Riddle's mugshot was affixed to an official report. Her eyes darted back and forth, trying to determine what he could have said that brought the ministry to her.

"Did you use an imperius spell on this Tom Riddle in order to force him to kidnap and torture Hermione Granger?"

The very suggestion appeared to be repulsive to her. It was all the proof Harry needed. He knew the official record required her to admit it wasn't true and to be willing to testify as an impeachment witness during the trial if Tom stuck to this strategy. That was going to be very tricky and very unlikely.

Bellatrix opened her mouth, ready to deny the accusation, then closed it. "Is that what he said?"

"We want to know what you did."

Harry understood Ophelia was going to walk a fine line. There was a possibility that Bellatrix was so brainwashed that she'd go along with Tom's defense. They ran the risk of hardening his position just by telling Bellatrix. That could have been his plan. He couldn't tell her he needed her to take the fall for him and the details she needed to do so, and he was using them to do his dirty work. Silence hung in the small room. Ophelia seemed like it didn't bother her. She wasn't in a hurry to proceed with her questions until Bellatrix made a move. The prisoner looked like she was having an internal argument with herself. Her lips were moving but no words were being said. When a decision appeared to be made, she didn't look happy with it. "I did."

It wasn't a surprise to Harry.

Ophelia seemed to soften in response. "Bellatrix, we know that's not true. He's going to use you. We can help you."

"You can help me?" she shot back. "How exactly. I had a life sentence before I escaped. You've added several more. Last I checked, I only had one life to give."

She wasn't wrong. There was no leniency to give that would have a meaningful impact on the rest of her life.

"We can offer quarterly trips to our Stonegate prison where you can take advantage of an open courtyard. Alone of course. But fresh air, sun, on the mainland," Ophelia offered.

This was a surprise to Harry. His brain automatically shifted to what a pain such an arrangement would be logistically. If it resulted in Tom going away for life, he'd take the assignment himself. It didn't sound like something the witch would care about. Azkaban already had an immensely improved quality of life compared to her prior experience.

Bellatrix appeared to be considering the offer. "How long. Would I be there?"

"Three days," Ophelia answered. "Every three months."

The very fact Bellatrix was considering the offer made Harry suspicious. Still, it looked like they might get her to flip. They had to try. Based on Hermione's observations, she had been willing to sacrifice Tom for Voldemort. It hadn't been clear if that was premeditated or instinct. "The clone isn't stable," Harry said, glancing at Ophelia to make sure she wouldn't mind him interjecting. She didn't look put out. "We know you didn't count on that. He clearly doesn't care about what happens to you or Voldemort for that matter."

"What would you know of it?"

"I know. I know Voldemort had horcruxes and we tried to destroy them all. You made sure there was one we didn't know about. As long as Tom is alive with his horcrux, Voldemort is out there. If Tom gets himself killed, that's it. For both of them. The safest place for the horcrux is here. Let Tom live a long life in prison and Voldemort, wherever he is, will continue to exist. Such as he is."

"What would I have to do?"

Ophelia offered Harry an appreciative head nod. "We'd need your written testimony of every detail from Tom's crimes against Hermione. If he tries to claim he was imperiused by you, forcing him to assault her, we will need to call to the stand to impeach that testimony."

Again the silence. Harry didn't remember Bellatrix being so thoughtful. She just always seemed to react.

"Fine."

Harry looked from Ron to Tonks. They all sensed they were missing something. Ophelia was busy pulling out parchments to record the statement. The door opened, a guard indicated the next interviewee was ready. Harry turned to his partner and trainee. "Who wants to help me with this one?" he asked. Questioning Sadie alone wasn't permitted even with the enchantments and potions that were required to neutralize her mental capabilities.

Ron looked expectantly, opening his mouth to volunteer and then shut it, remembering Tonks was the senior auror in the room with the highest prerogative.

"Go on rookie," Tonks said to Ron. "You'll learn more in that interview."

Stepping out, Harry held the door open. Ron followed his friend down the hallway a few feet. Harry took out a potion, took a sip, and handed it over. "This is memory protection potion. Sadie is a natural Legilimens. She's under the influence of spells and potions to limit her ability but it is no guarantee. If you feel anything strange, we both leave."

"Strange how?" he asked, grimacing at the taste of the potion.

"Negative emotions. Memories coming to the surface for no reason. Thoughts that seem like they're not your own. If something comes up, try changing your focus. If you can't or you're drawn back to the thoughts against your will we get out."

Handing the small bottle back to Harry, Ron nodded seriously. The interview room was a mirror image of the room they had just left. Sadie appeared to be holding up better than Bellatrix and Delores. Her clothes were clean, her hair combed and set in a loose bun. She sat with impeccable posture despite her chains. "Sarah Black," Harry started, sitting across from her. Ron found a spot to stand by the exit.

"Sadie Smith," she corrected, leaned forward so her hands could reach her face. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sat straight again.

"You'll keep your husband's name despite the divorce proceedings? A muggleborn name no less. That's a choice," Harry said, placing his hands on the table.

A flash of pain changed her features. "Benjamin is hurt by my omissions. He'll forgive me once he gives me a chance to explain."

"Explain why you aided a fugitive? Or why you didn't tell him you could manipulate his mind whenever it served your purpose?"

"I never! I would never." Sadie looked surprised by her outburst.

Harry gave her a minute to compose herself. He needed her to cooperate. Her recent decision to settle for a reduced sentence had given him the freedom he needed to question her. Summoning a water bottle for her, he freed her right hand with his wand. "Is he the reason you've changed your plea to guilty? To spare him a trial?"

Taking a sip of water, she nodded. "That life was behind me. I never joined Voldemort. When he came back he was different. Darker. His mind was… dangerous. He wasn't Tom."

"So what changed?" His efforts over the previous few days to find that answer had come up empty. The Malfoys had only a vague recollection of the witch. She was much older than them. And it did appear any connection between Sadie and Tom was broken before the first Death Eaters were marked. Narcissa knew even less of her cousin. Ostracized from the Black family the day she announced her engagement to a muggleborn wizard.

Her eyes narrowed. She seemed to be concentrating. Likely an effort to read his mind. Giving up in frustration he leaned back. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

"In exchange?"

"I want to move to Stonegate and I want to meet with Benjamin."

Harry was ready for the first request. Every prisoner was making a case for a transfer. Her request was already being evaluated as part of her plea deal. She wasn't violent. That didn't mean she wasn't dangerous. "We're looking at the risks of moving you. It looks like it will be approved but it's not my decision. What I know I can't do is force your husband to visit."

"You have to." Her desperation was evident. "I have to explain to him."

Harry felt a pang of sympathy for her. "Explain it to me. Make it make sense to me and I will personally talk to him on your behalf."

Sadie took another drink to give her time to formulate her words. Harry glanced behind him to see Ron was standing a little straighter, waiting for the story. "Tom was the first person I told about my abilities. Outside my parents. We were friends at Hogwarts. There weren't many boys who weren't threatened by girls who did better in class."

Harry refrained from asking if her grades were a result of her ability to read the teachers' minds. He couldn't help but think how much easier potions would had been if he'd been able to know what Snape was thinking. "You made a journal for him."

That he knew that piece of information was a surprise to her. "I did."

"Like the one you used to spy on Hermione?"

Her brows drew together in frustration. "Not exactly like it. But similar."

"Do you know what he did with it?" Ron asked. He followed up with a look of surprise aimed at Harry and then an apology.

Harry gave his friend a nod of approval. It was his next question. Having someone else ask it might keep Sadie guessing over what to say. Harry was starting to think that Sadie's use of legilimency her entire life would have left her ability to read situations or body language severely stunted. She'd be a terrible liar now that her window into her interrogators minds was locked closed.

She shook her head. "He said he wanted a way to communicate with himself in the future."

"That's a complicated bit of magic for a Hogwarts student," Harry observed.

"I didn't do it," she explained, looking down at her hands in shame. "I just told him I did."

Curious, Harry leaned forward. "Who did it?"

"I made my uncle do it. He was an Unspeakable. I saw in his mind one day, books he enchanted that tracked time. On Christmas Holiday, I used legilimency to learn more. Asked him, while he was under my influence, to do the task Tom wanted."

The revelation seemed obvious once it was out. Harry wondered what else they were missing because there were too many lines of investigation left until explored. "So you made the journal and he returned the favor."

"What he did for me. It didn't come close to what I did for him. My dad had arranged a marriage for me. A Selwyn. He was a horrible man. I refused and ran away from home. But I had nowhere to go. Tom took me in while he was working at Borgin and Burkes. He never asked for a thing, but I insisted on give something in exchange. I helped several witches and wizards part with valuable items for him. Helped him earn favor at the shop while I figured out what to do with my life. That was until Salvidor Selwyn tracked me down. He assaulted me, he was going to kill me, I was sure of it. And worst of all, my father must have put him up to it. He was prepared. Dosed me with the same potions you are now. Took away my only defense. Tom came along and killed him. He didn't even blink. He didn't just save my physical life, he saved my future," her voice cracked as she recounted the terrible events.

Harry understood feeling a sense of debt. He didn't think it was worth destroying the entire wizarding world over. "So you thought you'd do him a favor. Released Voldemort and attacked Hermione."

"You don't know what it's like. Owing your life to someone."

He did. He was painfully aware of what it meant to owe his life to someone else. She was so wrapped up in her own story to even consider the possibility. "How did Tom contact you?"

"An old texting parchment we had. It was enchanted to glow when there was a message. It had been dark since the day he found out I used my second chance at life to marry a muggleborn wizard. Until last month. He needed help and I still owed him my life."

"Last month? You gave Hermione the journal in April."

"No one asked me to do that. It is a useful therapeutic tool," she explained.

Anger rose up within Harry. He sensed movement and saw Ron had stepped closer, both hands closed tightly. The violation of privacy was technically the least of the crimes done against Hermione. It didn't lessen the offense. "Where did Voldemort go when you released him?"

"I don't know," she said simply.

"Why lie now?" Harry accused. He knew why. The past really didn't matter. Not to the clone's present. If there was a reason for protecting what was left of Voldemort, it hadn't been realized yet.

"I'm not lying. I honestly don't know. I was only supposed to release him. I assumed he'd possess the first person he came across and left the ministry within them. I told you. My loyalty was to Tom. He knew that. All he asked me to do was to release the bit of soul left."

It was wholly unsatisfying. Tapping his fingers on the table Harry finally sighed and stood. Sadie reached out for him causing Ron to pull his wand. In response, she withdrew her hand. "I'll talk to your husband. It will be his decision. I won't pressure him."

She nodded in understanding and watched him leave. In the hallway, Harry shook his head as he closed the door. Dolores, Bellatrix, Sadie... they all had choices. Each one could have lived a different life. They could have been heroes. Harry knew better. He knew the character of two of them well enough to know they were incapable of making a choice that didn't benefit themselves. Sadie seemed the most likely of the three to have a change of heart. She stopped her public trial to spare her husband the shame. Tonks exited the nearby interview year. Then again, Sadie wasn't much different than Bellatrix. No remorse for those who got in her way for whatever perverse thought was considered love. These three women. They ruined the lives of so many over devotion to some version of Tom Riddle. Then there was Hermione. Her insistence to hold the prophecy, knowing the damage it could do to her just to ensure she hadn't missed some information to end Voldemort once for all. Was she doing it out of devotion to him? Harry laughed at the thought. He'd earn himself a lecture if he even suggested it.

"Something funny, partner?" Tonks asked.

"No. Nothing is. She flipped?"

"Looks like. Writing her statement now. Not sure how long it will take. Might want to plan on a long day here."

It wasn't what Harry wanted to hear. He promised Hermione he'd be back at the ministry in time to be there for her. It would be naïve of him to think her choices weren't also done out of love. She'd proven the power of her love in the most convincing way. An impossible act in fact. She'd sacrifice herself for him. That was clear. What she wouldn't do was sacrifice others for either of them. And that was the difference. Blind devotion verses sacrificial love. She might move the universe to save him. Not if it meant others would suffer.

~~/~~

Hermione paced in front of the hall of prophecies. She didn't want to rush Harry. He texted her when he was on his way back from Azkaban, it was later than he planned. Albus was leaning against a far wall trying not to watch her nervous energy by reading a scroll of parchment. She stopped mid stride. "You both didn't need to be here."

"Hm," Dumbledore answered, not looking up.

"It's not like either of you can do anything for me while I experience the vision."

"We can be there for you afterwards."

The man was infuriating. She wanted to fight something, someone to get it out of her system. He wasn't taking the bait. Her forearm was hurting. Rubbing it, she decided it was psychosomatic. Ior will mark the end of the beginning… That rune was peppered throughout her past. Had that prophecy already been fulfilled? She felt like she was on a collision course with the inevitable. Or maybe it was like her train analogy. The engine of time was heading straight for her and all she could do was stand on the tracks or get out of the way.

"Your scar hurts," Dumbledore said kindly, finally looking up from his reading.

"I think I'm imagining it."

He crossed to her, took her left hand in his. Pushing her sleeve up, Hermione didn't look down. She watched the face of her old friend. Seeing her injuries through the people in her life who loved her might help her ward off future arguments about her safety. Not for the first time, Hermione was struck by the deep wrinkles on the old wizard's face. Of course this was the original Dumbledore she met her first year at Hogwarts. The Dumbledore she considered a brother existed a half century in their past. That was the man she saw when she thought of him. How did he see her, she wondered. The fragile sixth year who showed up in his office in 1944, the charge who had conquered time, or the woman who stood in front of him, trying to be more than her past, trying to save her future… Finally looking down, she saw the familiar scars. They weren't inflamed. There was no reason for them to be bothering her.

He pulled her sleeve back down and patted the hand. "It looks alright. Have you had lingering pain from the spell?"

The spell. Was that what they were calling the magic she had harnessed to block the killing curse? It should have a better name than that. "Not from the curse. My back still bothers me if I try to do too much."

"It's a good thing then that you don't have a habit of doing too much."

They both laughed at the sarcasm. It broke the tension. "Healer Halley checked me over. Gave me some suggestions."

"I understand Gina Blithe and Lena Prince are still trying to understand how your spell worked," Albus said, stepping back. He held up the parchment he had been reading. "They need your help. When you're ready. Now that you've had more time to process everything."

"I haven't seen that yet," she said, a little put off that Albus would have a copy and she wouldn't. It was her spell.

"Don't take it personally. I think they're intimidated by you and don't want to meet with you until they have more answers. The only component they've made any headway on is characterizing the nature of the modified shield charm."

Intimidated by her. That was silly. "I'm not sure I would have anything to add that I haven't already. I'd be interested in knowing what they've learned just as much as everyone else. You know there's a big difference between theory and practice."

"I'll mention that to them. From what I understand, they're seeking an initial review from those of us with the clearances before sending it to you. They wanted the minister to see it before you. I'd take that as a compliment, not an insult."

The door at the other end of the hallway opened. Harry hurried through. Hermione simultaneously felt relief and anxiety. She was glad he was there, he'd make sure the prophecy couldn't overwhelm her. That he was there also meant there were no excuses left to delay. She watched him try to assess her state to determine how to greet her. Deciding she could cut him a break, Hermione stepped up to him and gave him a quick kiss. "Thanks for making time for this. Everything went okay?"

He looked from her to Albus and gave the older wizard a quick nod. "Yeah. I'll explain later. She gave Ophelia her full statement."

"That's great. I'm mildly surprised."

"Me too. There's something off and I can't put my finger on it. We'll talk tonight. Are you ready for this?"

"No, but yes," she admitted, took his hand and pulled him toward a small room off to the side of the new repository. "They kept the prophecy in the box in case it would be needed as evidence for Sadie's trial," she explained, let the two men find a seat.

Jordan Goode welcomed them and repositioned the box in front of her. "If you don't mind. I'd like to stay. I've only heard about a prophecy resulting in a vision."

If she didn't mind, could he stay and watch her witness her nightmare? "I'm sorry. It's not a pleasant experience. If I can get through it and learn how to manage it, maybe another time."

He took the rejection in stride. "Ah. I understand. I'll be in my office when you're done."

Hermione wiped her sweaty palms on her pants.

"Do you know what you're looking for?" Harry asked, he wanted a strategy or a plan.

Considering his question, she didn't really. "Whatever I didn't see last time." It was wholly unsatisfying. It was the truth. As soon as she touched it she'd be plunged into the vision. Not wanting to drop it on the hard table, she carefully slipped a piece of velvet from the top of the box and placed it in front of her. Her fingers shook, a result of the burst of adrenaline that coursed through her. As confidently as she could, she picked up the orb. Saw the familiar flashes of the horrible future.

As she stood on the charred sideway, she realized it wasn't just the sights that created such an ominous experience. There were smells. She could feel the chill in the air around her.

"Hermione? You're okay?" Harry's voice filtered through.

Not sure if she could communicate, she leaned back, tried to relax. She could control the vision. She was in control. "Yes." She said the word in her head, she wasn't sure if it was also out loud. "It's cold. I smell…smoke from fires. I think the muggles are forced to get heat from stoves."

Stepping up to a nearby window, she peered in. Lanterns were lit. A fire in the hearth. No sight of electricity. Either the power plants weren't operating or electricity didn't work due to the magical influence surrounding what was left of London. She looked to the horizon. It was clear the city had either sunk several hundred feet or the rock foundation of castle walls in the distance were artificially raised up. Screams rang out in the distance. Her breath quickened. She knew what was happening. Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George were about to be executed. She had watched that play out dozens of times to keep Sadie from seeing the rest of the vision. Hermione didn't think she needed to go there again.

A familiar flier was taped to a message board. The Muggle City known as London is scheduled for extermination July 18, 1998 for harboring the resistance movement. New Avalon will be established in its place. Muggles wishing to serve the New Imperial Wizarding Order may submit themselves for intake at the offices formally known as the Ministry of Magic. Anyone with knowledge of rogue wand carriers that results in apprehension of traitors or magical imposters will be rewarded.

As she stood reading and rereading it, she wondered if it was possible to pass that date and then for history to change or if that date could be an important piece of information. She was left to admit that the vision could be as much metaphor as it was real. Stepping back, she shook her head. This isn't what she needed to see. Closing her eyes, she thought of the Shrieking Shack. She needed to see if the traveler or the half blood showed up. Any clues about their identity, anything said between the two could provide an invaluable piece of information. The telltale sounds of the dilapidated walls creaking in the wind told Hermione she was in the shack. Looking around, she was on the first floor. Some discarded cloaks were left in the corner. That's what she thought they were, until she got closer. It groaned. Leaning closer to see if she recognized the person, Hermione was horrified to find a black void where a face should be. She gasped.

"What's happening?" Harry asked.

A sound behind her, had Hermione turning on the spot, expecting an attack. It was Snape, coming out of the tunnel from the school. "Snape's here," she explained, not sure what to say about the other person… presumably the traveler.

Her former professor didn't look well. He clearly came from the school. Was he still a spy for Voldemort?

"Don't fight it," he said to the crumpled form. "It gets easier." Hermione watched him produce heavy blankets and bundled the person up against the wind from without and the chill from within. He knew who it was. Maybe the problem was the vision. If Hermione was touching the orb, she was a subject of the prophecy. She had to be the traveler. Were there two possibilities? It didn't make sense.

Hermione watched the interaction. Forced it to restart, watched again. Nothing at all was said to clear up the confusion. Was there more to see? More to experience. The prophecies themselves said that directly referenced the meeting. "When memories change, the traveler must meet the half blood in the shack where this began…. When time is broken, only two will know the truth and only one can make it right. Love chosen will save the mother's love given…" The whole thing was frustrating. Why did it only show the result of the time change and not what caused it. A mother's love. That had to reference Lily. In a blink she was in the graveyard, looking down at the memorial for the entire Potter family. Harry James Potter, 15 July 1980. We never knew you, but you were loved. They had the date if not the actual actions. It was the only thing that kept her from panicking.

Beginning to feel like there really wasn't anything else to gain. She steeled herself and went back to the courtyard in London. "The last of the blood traitor Weasley family has been found," Tom announced. "They've been leading a resistance. Helping muggle-borns. A disgrace to the dignity of the sacred twenty-eight." With great effort, Hermione didn't look at her friends in the center of the coliseum. The spectators in their green and silver robes adorned with the Gaunt coat of arms and Slytherin crest appeared to be enjoying the mayhem. Hermione climbed the steps to the throne at the top. Standing on the spot, she studied Tom Riddle. He was older. Was he twenty years older? She wondered. Had he gone back to 1980 to kill Harry before he was born and then stayed in the past. That would mean Voldemort and Tom would have been contemporaries in that timeline.

She recited the rest of the prophecies, tried to work it out: One will become two... ior will mark the end of the beginning, but beware the end is just beginning... The traveler will hold the secret to the dark lord's downfall… Two will become one again when the past and future collide... The traveler will decide which one will survive… each must die at the other's hand. Considering Tom and Voldemort if she had a choice which one would die she didn't know who she would choose. The prophecy seemed to suggest that choice would end in her death. But how was that possible if she died in the room of requirement? They must have stopped Tom and he did this in response. Even if they stopped him from killing her in the future, she'd have to sacrifice her life in the past. The revelation hit Hermione hard. She turned to look at Tom and was startled to find him looking at her. She cried out in shock and stumbled back.

There was a thud and it all ended. She was sitting her her chair. The orb rocking on the velvet. She'd dropped it.

Harry reached out, touched her hand.

Hermione grabbed at it. It was a lifeline she needed. When she squeezed her eyes, tears leaked out, ran down her cheeks. A small clink sounded in front of her. Albus had set down a glass of water. If her hands had been shaking when she picked up the orb they were violently trembling now. She had to let go of Harry's hand so she could use both hands to limit the amount of water spilt.

"Can you tell us," Albus asked softly.

She didn't want to. Staring into the fog in the prophecy, she pushed her chair back. "I don't want to touch it again."

"No, you don't have to," Albus told her. "Jordan is able to. He has a counter spell to the curse. Why don't we go to the library?"

"Home. I want to go home," she said, hating how weak she sounded.

Harry rubbed her arm, nodding. "We can do that. Can Professor Dumbledore come?"

Standing, she nodded. "Yeah. Let's just go."

The two men followed her out of the Department of Mysteries. They instinctively flanked her. As Hermione walked through the atrium, the more distance she had from the prophecy the less anxious she felt. Her fears didn't leave her. She could send a message to Maddy, she thought absently, it didn't stop her from stepping into one of the fireplaces. Hermione heard Gerty and Harry talking, her mind was too preoccupied to listen.

"Hermione?" Dumbledore's voice was close. She turned, surprised to see him in her home. "Why don't we sit down?"

She let him lead her to a chair near the fireplace. Harry was putting a hot cup of tea in her hands. There was a buzzing in her ears. It could have been an effect of experiencing the vision. Her brows furrowed as she tried to remember if there was a similar side effect the last time she spent so much time handling the prophecy.

Harry cleared his throat, sat at the edge of his seat next to her. "You saw Snape?" Perhaps hoping if he could get her talking about an easy topic she'd be able to eventually tell them about the events that were bothering her so significantly.

Hermione found herself nodding in response. "He was in the Shrieking Shack. He has to be the half blood."

"And you were there?" Albus asked.

"No. Maybe. There was another person there. They didn't have a face."

"You couldn't see their face?" Harry clarified.

"There wasn't a face. It was just a black void." She took a shaky breath, sipped her tea. "Snape was saying something to them. Something about not fighting what was happening to them."

"A curse of some sort?" Harry asked.

"I… I don't think so. Maybe the side effects of the travel. If they were the traveler." She could tell both men were getting impatient. She didn't want to tell them her realization. She forced her eyes to focus on Harry. Harry. He wasn't going to understand. "The prophecy says the traveler will make a choice. Which version of Tom will survive. I think in making that choice, the travel will die. It doesn't matter if we stop Tom from taking me back from the future. I think I'm meant to die in the past." She had no proof. Still a certainty it was true.

"We don't know that," Harry said, shaking his head at the words.

It wasn't something she wanted to argue over. She was tired of the argument. Hermione put her cup down, studied her engagement ring, spun it around on her finger. "I want to change. Give me a minute." She stood, walked toward the stairs. Harry and Albus started discussion what little she'd told them. Each step brought more certainty. It would be easier this way. In their room, she used her wand to quickly pack some things into her beaded bag, found a piece of parchment, stared at the blank paper. What could she say that wouldn't destroy him. Deciding on a simple, I'm sorry, she set it down on the nightstand and slipped the engagement ring off her finger. She needed to do it for him. Gently, she set the ring down on the parchment, grab hold of the purple bag with the extension charm, she lifted her chin and turned on the spot. The silence that greeted her inside Grimmauld place was fitting. Her mission was going to be a lonely one. Leaning against the door behind her, she slid down and let the tears finally fall.