Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, they all belong to J.K. Rowling unfortunately.

Chapter one

August 3 1973, Evening

The warm August wind whipped Hermione's hair around her face as she sat on the rock in front of the black lake blankly staring at the sun setting and casting a golden light over her prone form. She couldn't think straight. One moment she had been walking down the corridors and the next she had been shoved to the ground and knocked unconscious. She had woken up in the hospital wing this morning to Professor Dumbledore sitting beside her bed asking her questions about her identity. It was only a few minutes later that she understood why he was asking such unusual questions when he knew for a fact that she had been attending his school for 2 years. Or so she thought.

Flashback:

3 September 1993

"Do you two ever stop talking about Quidditch?" Hermione asked after having to endure at least forty-five minutes of none stop yammering about the national teams. If she was being fair, Harry had really only been listening and adding a few little comments here and there but she was about at her wits end and had nearly no more patience.

"Bloody hell, calm down Hermione. It's not my fault you can't appreciate the game." Ron replied, crossing his arms and unknowingly imitating Percy's 'I'm better than everyone' look. Harry seemed to notice too as he snorted into his glass of pumpkin juice. Hermione glared at Ron and had to force herself not to throw a sandwich at his head.

"I like the game just fine Ronald, I just have no interest in playing it myself. I'd also rather not have my ear talked off about what the 'Chudley Canons' should and should not have done in their last game." Ron scoffed and took the last sandwich on the platter and looked pointedly in the other direction. Hermione rolled her eyes before turning to Harry.

"We should get going, Harry. I don't want to be late for DADA, especially now that we have a decent teacher." She said and watched, amused as Harry's eyes lit up before he hurriedly jumped off the bench, grabbing both his book bag and her elbow and half dragging her off her own seat.

"Well let's go then! Hurry up Ron or I'll leave you here." Harry said, practically bouncing up and down on his heels. Hermione smiled fondly at the raven haired boy. He hadn't been in a great mood in the past few days (courtesy of finding out a mass murder is after him), but it seemed that mentioning his new favorite class had changed that in about a millisecond. She let herself be dragged along by her best friend to the class room before being practically pushed into a chair in the front row. Ron walked into the classroom a few minutes later looking disgruntled at actually having been left behind. By the time Ron had sat down, Professor Remus J. Lupin had already stepped into the classroom.

"Good morning class." He said, a pleasant and friendly smile plastered on his face. The classroom was immediately filled with replies of 'good morning professor' as he walked to the front of the classroom. Everyone waited in anticipation as the new teacher collected his thoughts, and finally, began to explain what he had planned for them today.

"Last class, I explained to you all what I would be teaching you this year. Now, if you were paying attention, you would know that we would have started learning about certain creatures that are considered dark or dangerous. I've decided that we will push that class back until tomorrow-" Many people had broken out into protests and groans at this revelation, thinking that they were probably going to be forced to learn boring things instead. Lupin silenced them by raising his hand and many people, Ron included, had the decency to look a little bit ashamed. The professor chuckled before continuing.

"As I was saying, I have decided to move that class back in favor of getting to know you all better. I'll go row by row, from front to back. Each of you will tell me your name and something you enjoy. Does that sound fair?" His question was answered by many nods from all around the classroom and he started with Lavender Brown, who was sitting in the front row on the left side of the class. By the time he had reached her, Hermione had learnt that Parvati liked sowing and reading magazines and that Pansy Parkinson liked to bake. The last one came as a shock. She had obviously known that Harry's passion was playing Quidditch so it didn't surprise her when he told the professor that he liked it. Finally Lupin turned to her, however, she noticed his smile waver. Odd.

"I believe I met you on the train ride here, Miss…?"

"Granger, sir, Hermione Granger" The professor's eyes widened and he froze. Hermione shifted uncomfortably under his shocked gaze before he finally snapped out of his trance like state.

"I apologize for staring H-Miss Granger, you just have a very similar name to someone I once knew." He said finally. Hermione nodded but once he turned away she shared a confused look with Harry. 'Hermione' was a very unusual name and she really couldn't think of any other names that sounded even remotely like it.

By the time class had ended, however, Hermione had completely forgotten about the odd behavior of the Professor and the rest of the day went smoothly, well smoothly until she had decided to go get a new book from the library just a quarter of an hour before curfew.

This part she couldn't remember quite as well as the rest of the day.

The memory seemed hazy as if a curtain of dense fog had set over her mind and veiled the happenings of the evening from her view. She briefly remembered tugging out her time-turner to admire it, it was quite beautifully made after all, or at least, it had been. She could not remember if anything had transpired in between the moment she had pulled out the necklace and the moment she had hit the ground harshly, as if someone particularly strong had picked her up and then forcefully thrown her to the ground. Everything had gone black and the next thing she knew she had woken up to white walls and a pounding head-ache.

She looked around with bleary eyes and was briefly startled to find twinkling blue eyes stare back at her from the aged face of her headmaster. Her eyes widened and she struggled to push herself up on shaky arms. Dumbledore smiled politely and offered her his hand.

"Allow me to assist you, my dear" He said, Hermione smiled gratefully at him and grabbed his offered hand to pull herself up. After arranging her pillow behind her, Hermione leant back and opened her mouth to thank the Headmaster but was cut off before even uttering a sound by Madame Pomfrey bustling over with her arms full of murky colored potions.

"Albus! I told you to leave my patient alone until she is completely healed!" The mediwitch scolded angrily as she set the potions down on the bedside table.

"I assure you I won't be making her do anything detrimental to her health, Poppy. I merely want to ask her a few questions." He stated. "You may administer her the potions necessary after the young witch explains to me how exactly she got here." Hermione looked at the old man, confused beyond measure. What did he mean by 'how she got here' she'd arrived like every other student! Before she could voice these thoughts, however, the Headmater turned to her and she realized that the matron had already went back to her office, muttering something along the lines of 'meddling old fool' as she went.

"Now, before we start I think I should know your name, Miss…?" The Headmaster asked her and Hermione's brow furrowed but she answered nonetheless.

"Hermione Granger...but Headmaster, surely you already know that...I've been going to Hogwarts for two years now." She said confusedly. The Headmaster's white eyebrows rows as he studied the young girl in front of him.

"I'm afraid I don't recall ever seeing you in my school Miss Granger. Are you aware what year it is?" He asked and Hermione's eyes widened fearing she knew exactly what would come next.

"I- 1993, sir." But even as she said it she could feel a sense of dread building in her stomach. She tried calming herself down, Professor Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey didn't look much older then they had before...perhaps she had only went back 3 years? She looked up at Professor Dumbledore and felt all her false hopes flying out the window at his grave expression.

"I'm afraid not, Miss Granger, the year is 1973." He said gently and Hermione felt all the air leave her lungs as if she had been punched in the gut. TWENTY YEARS?! She looked up at the Headmaster in shock and realized for the first time, that his beard wasn't quite as long as it had been at the welcoming feast, had she not just been informed that she had traveled 20 years back in time she would have asked him if he had gotten a...beard cut?

"How is that even possible ,sir, I thought time turners only went back a few hours." She asked meekly and the Headmaster's eyes twinkled.

"Usually you would be right, Hermione, can I call you that?" He side tracked, Hermione nodded not really registering what he had asked, so concerned about how she had got herself into this mess.

"Anyways, yes usually that is how they work, but it seems that you had a- well accident and smashed it into your wrist." He said causing Hermione to look at both of her wrists and suck in a breath at the sight of her bandaged left forearm. There must have been a numbing spell put on it, for she could not feel anything and had not even noticed that her arm looked like she had been partially turned into a mummy.

"I don't understand...shouldn't it have just broken and done nothing? I didn't have it around my neck when I...fell." She said confusedly. The Headmaster sighed.

"Alas, you seem to have very bad luck my dear, you are quite right again, however, the sand from the time turner mixed with your blood and the magical glass and seemed to cause a reaction. I do not know why it brought you here but I fear I have no way to send you back." He said. Hermione felt like she was going to be sick. Stuck in a time that was not her own. No family. No way home.

Lovely.

Just then, the matron exited her office and scowled when she noticed Hermione's pale complexion.

"That's enough, Albus! Out with you now, I do not needing you making her sick!" She said angrily shooing him away from Hermione's bedside. He had left without a fight, leaving her in the safe care of Madame Pomfrey, but had returned in the after-noon to talk about where she would be staying during the summer holidays. That was what had Hermione was so preoccupied about.

August 3 1973, Evening

Hermione blinked her eyes for the first time in a few minutes and she winced at the sting that followed. She did not want to be here. Her eyes stinging, her wrist now burning as the numbing spell wore off, Hermione was forced to acknowledge that she would have no choice but to stay at an orphanage the next summer. She would have thought that Dumbledore would have been willing to let her stay at Hogwarts in the summers between school because of her situation, but he had been very clear that he would only allow it this year under the pretense that Madame Pomfrey was monitoring her health.

She knew that she was being silly. It's not as if she didn't know the school rules and she really had no other choice, yet, she couldn't help but be resentful. She was stuck. In. The. Past. And no one knew how to help her get back. She was sore and grumpy and she wanted to go home. She laughed bitterly at the thought. A home that didn't even exist yet. Tears built up in her eyes and she let them spill onto her cheeks as her body wracked with sobs. Pulling her knees up to her chest and burying her face into them, Hermione let all her pent up emotions flow over.

Later in the night, as she lay tucked under the white sheets of the infirmary, unable to sleep Hermione realized something that lifted her over-tired brains spirits drastically. She could save people. James and Lily Potter were not yet dead. In fact, if she had done the math correctly (and she was sure she had) they were only 13 at the moment. They would be in the same year as her. She could warn them! But those happy thoughts were soon drowned out by a fear that nearly made her gasp aloud. She had figured out that Harry's parents would be 33 in 1993 if she saved them, but the mention of that age brought forth a memory. Particularly a memory of the news reporter that had been on TV in the summer of 1993.

'...Sirius Black, 33 years old, has recently escaped from prison...'

And then all the papers in the wizarding world that had displayed the pureblood man's face on them. Not only would she be in the same year as her best friends parents, but she would also be spending the next 5 years in the company of Sirius Black.

Sirius Black, the mass murderer, you-know-who's right hand man, a death eater and the same man that desperately wanted Harry dead in the future.