DISCLAIMER. None of the characters used are a creation of mine. They belong solely to JK Rowling.
Hermione woke up, startled beyond measure. She was instantly hit by a sense of vertigo and had to take several deep breaths to steady herself.
She squinted in the darkness that surrounded her. Almost afraid of where she was, she began to feel with her hands about her whereabouts. Her hands seemed to be clutching at a soft sheen like material. She was.. she was in a bed. A very comfortable bed.
She brought a hand to touch her mouth and her hair. She seemed to be very much alive.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
'Harry?' she gasped out. 'Harry? Where are you?'
She removed the covers off of her and slowly padded along the cold hardwood floor.
A very strange feeling suddenly hit her. It almost seemed as if her centre of gravity was misplaced. She couldn't quite understand what that could mean.
She walked around what seemed to be a particularly large bedroom. She felt with her fingers waht coukd only be a huge desk paired with a plush chair.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could make out she was alone. That filled her with dread. Where was Harry? The ritual was supposed to work on both of them. She was absolutely certain she had spelled out both their names. But then where could he be?
She settled into a window seat and looked out over the forest that could be seen stretching on for miles and miles ahead.
Elladora Blacks's journal had said that the ritual would place the needy at a place in time where it would be most crucial for them to attain their goal.
Harry and Hermione had been prepared to land in the middle of a battle. What they hadn't been prepared for was landing on a soft bed without the presence of one another.
At least one thing was for certain then. The ritual could have only been completed if the person was inherently pure. That meant all the murders they may have commited were exonerated. Harry, Hermione and Draco had been deemed pure by whatever higher power that rested in the universe.
Still reeling from the happenings of the evening, Hermione strangely felt safe as if she was far away from the war for now.
The sun had slowly begun to rise as it's light flossed in the large chamber.
Hermione sat still, unthinking. Her brain had went on a lockdown. She felt out of place but also.. at home.
When there was enough light inside the room to explore, Hermione got up from her place at the window and made her way to the bedside table where she found her beaded bag and her wand. She immediately plucked it from the table and felt the surge of power go through her body as she grapsed her wand.
But something was odd. Hermione lifted her hands in front of her and cried out. Her hands were.. tiny. So was her entire body. She rushed to the mirror right in the center of the chamber and found that she was back in ten year old body.
That meant that she was back in 1989. But this was definitely not her room. It couldn't be. Her parents could not have afforded such a grand palace much less situated in the middle of a forest.
But as she tried to calm herself down and begin to wonder where she was and who she was, she was suddenly struck with a thousand memories that weren't her own but somehow.. also were.
Hit with an onslaught of unwanted memories, Hermione was slightly disgruntled. But what followed was a feeling of intense fear and despair.
For if her memories could be accounted for then that meant that she was no longer Hermione Granger.
She was in the year 1969.
She was Hermione Lestrange, aged nine. Sister to Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, aged twenty one and fourteen respectively.