Chapter 3
Hermione had made George take her to Knockturn Alley to speak to Darby, only for him to be unable to find the shop. They'd spent nearly an entire day combing the seedier side of the magical shopping district only to come up empty. Apparently, the mysterious man had packed up his shop and moved on again. Somehow, despite her better judgment George had been able to convince her it didn't matter.
So she spent the next several days studying the Russian time travel device. There was precious little information on the region's magical culture available in England and absolutely nothing on particular time travel theories. The idea of jumping into this without knowing exactly how it would work made her more than a little nervous.
George, bless him, was doing his best to be patient with her. She had pondered aloud if there was time to travel to Kazakhstan to see if more information could be had but the look she'd received made her believe he'd leave without her. It had already been five days and he was starting to get irritable.
"I told you everything that Darby told me. He showed me how to use it per the man that he bought it from. Aside from tracking down one of the Kremlins that made the thing, which is definitely impossible, we'll never know more than we do now."
"Kremlins? What? No that's not…" After getting the full story, she had tried to explain about the Cold War, Soviet Russia and what little she knew about the period of Magical history, mostly tidbits from Viktor. While he had listened attentively, he was clearly more focused on plotting out how to save his brother and she couldn't fault him for that.
"You're right, George. I know it's just… this is dangerous at the best of times. It's frustrating we don't have more information and not knowing everything I can feels like a massive mistake."
Dragging the chair out from the table beside her, George sank down and took her hand from where it still clung to the edge of yet another useless book.
"Hermione. Love. You don't have to come with me, I can do this on my own."
Laughing softly, she closed the book. Fingers lingering along the edges of the worn leather cover, Hermione thought about all of her doubts. They were legitimate no matter what some random, black market Kazakh said. Despite all of their losses, all of the lingering heartache, they'd still won. If they put their trust in this mad idea that they could actually change things, it might ruin everything. Saving just one person, being seen… But the idea of George going it alone was even more terrifying still.
"I know you're a powerful wizard, George, but don't be ridiculous. You're going to need my help." His bright, eager grin was the first hint at his old self she'd seen since Bill's wedding and she couldn't help but smile just a little too. "And you're right. As terrifying as it is for me to just trust the magic, we'll never learn more than we know now. We've planned everything as best as we can and I've got my bag from my time on the run stocked for every possible outcome. At the very least we can survive in the woods somewhere until we catch back up to ourselves."
Apparently that was all he needed. Shoving up from his seat, George—still holding her hand—dragged her along behind himself away from the kitchen and into the cramped sitting room. After deciding to go with him, Hermione had practically moved in and their things had been packed for days. Her beaded bag and his own napsack that she had extended for him were sitting on the sofa waiting for her to decide she was ready.
"Finally. Here…" She caught her bag out of the air as he tossed it to her, slinging his own over his shoulder. "Let's go now. No more overthinking it, no more books." Light flashed on the gold dials of the device as he pulled it from its box and reached his free hand out to her.
Suddenly her heart was thudding painfully and her throat began to close up as she stared at the Kazakh time travel device hanging from his hand between them. Then she looked up into his eyes, warm and brown and confident. George was going to save his brother no matter what and she would do everything she could to help. This might go terribly wrong, but no matter what happened they would be together.
"Come on, Hermione. Let's save, Fred."
The first thing Hermione noticed was that their new device did not work anything like a time-turner. She'd already known that to a degree, of course. The dials were different, the runes unfamiliar and the chain was a much different style. Most shocking—at least at first—was that they did not go back alone. The armchair they'd been standing beside, as well as half of the sofa behind her had come as well. Apparently, everything within a certain radius of the device made the jump.
This was not, unfortunately, the most shocking thing for very long. It quickly became apparent that something had gone terribly wrong.
"Bloody hell, where is the rest of my sofa? Where is… what happened to my flat? Why does the wallpaper look so nice? It's usually quite a bit more faded."
Dread, that she had only just managed to suppress after initially taking his hand returned with gale force. The wallpaper wasn't the only thing that had changed. When making their plans, they had decided to make the jump in the flat so as to avoid running into anyone unexpected. The twins had both long since moved on but despite the wrecked shop downstairs, their combined warding had preserved their flat.
It should have looked the same. More importantly, it definitely should have been empty.
"George…" Her voice came out raspy and choked as she stared at the very startled looking middle aged man standing slack-jawed behind him. Frowning in deepening confusion, George whipped around.
"Who are you?"
The interloper, though truthfully she supposed they were the strangers here, blinked rapidly in indignation. "Who am… who the bloody hell are you and what are you doing in my flat?"
"Your… your flat? Look mate, I have no idea who you are but this is not your flat. It's mine. Mine and Fred's! Now you better tell me who the bloody hell you are and what you're doing here or I'll assume you're a Death Eater and start flinging curses!"
Hermione reached for George's arm in an attempt to calm him but was shrugged off. Shakily brandishing his wand, the stranger looked between the pair of them. "I don't know anyone named Fred, and I've lived here for two years. And I'm certainly no Death Eater. You… You better tell me who the bloody hell you are and where you came from before I call the aurors!"
"No, you're lying. You must be. We only went back six months and… and this place had been empty for a decade when we bought it." He looked around as if desperately trying to understand what was happening. For her part, Hermione was beginning to think that the Izmenit' proshloye had sent them back much further than they'd intended. Chest aching, she could see through her mounting dizziness that George was about to explode.
"Fred, where is Fred? I need to save my brother!"
Before she could think of anything to do, George had crossed the room and shoved his wand beneath the stranger's chin. Nearly stumbling over the half transported sofa, Hermione tried to catch him.
"George! Stop, George!"
Anger and confusion twisted his face in a way she'd never seen before as he struggled with the other wizard. "No… he's lying. He has to be!" Unable to shrug her off this time, Hermione clung to George, desperate to save him from doing something he would regret.
The other man whimpered under George's wand, muttering incoherently about not being a Death Eater and wondering why they didn't believe him. "Stop, please, George! I think he's telling the truth. Something's gone wrong, I don't think we're quite when we wanted to be."
He only pulled his attention away from the stranger for a moment but it was enough for him to free himself, scrambling backwards as George was distracted.
"What do you mean? No, that's not right. It can't be…" His voice broke as the anger fled, replaced by a heartbreaking realization. "No…"
Frown deepening, George stared down into her eyes as though searching for any hint that she'd made it up. When he didn't find any—Hermione only shaking her head sadly—he shook her off and dashed for the door.
"Wait!"
She ran after him. If she was right she needed to catch him before he inadvertently changed something massive. They needed time to think. They needed to figure out what had gone wrong, when they were and what to do next. Running down the stairwell and out into the street on shaking knees, Hermione's chest throbbed with the effort to breathe. Just as her eyes finally landed on his flaming red hair, visible in the light of the streetlamps, the crack of his apparition ricocheted off the buildings of Diagon Alley.
"No! Dammit, George!"
Ignoring glaring differences in the magical shopping district, Hermione hoped he would still follow their plan and apparated to Hogwarts.
As soon as she gained her footing, she caught sight of him racing from Hogsmede towards the school. They had planned to apparate to an alley in the village, disillusion themselves and try and make their way to the castle through the fighting. Predictably, as she struggled to catch him as she ran on much shorter legs, she saw no signs of battle. There were no Death Eaters, no Acramantulas, no deranged half-changed werewolves. No murderous spells whistled past as she ran from the town towards the gate, no spellfire of any kind could be seen in fact.
Stopped at the gate, George yanked on the unyielding iron bars and shouted into the dimness. "Fred! Freddy, where are you? Where have you gone?" Crumbling, he sank to his knees, voice wavering near tears. "Where have I gone…"
Unsure what she could possibly do for him, Hermione collapsed beside him in the morning-dampened grass and dirt and stared up at the castle. Beside her—breath stuttering—George pressed his forehead against the bars and squeezed his eyes shut.
"How far off are we?"
Heart aching at the listlessness of his voice, made all the more painful when she remembered how energized and hopeful he'd been the past few days, Hermione cast a tempus.
1 April, 1978 ~ 5:00 AM
For a moment, George stared at the date in disbelief. Of all the wrong days. Then, jolting Hermione with the suddenness of it, he erupted in laughter. It was harsh and devoid of humor as it gradually turned to choking sobs as he tried to speak.
"No way… Our birthday… The fucking day we were born, Hermione!" He fell back against the gate, sitting down hard with his hands limp between his knees. "Happy birthday, Freddy! Happy bloody birthday…"
As George curled into himself, every bit as distressed as he'd been in the weeks after the battle, the full weight of their reality fell upon Hermione. They were in 1978—a full twenty years in the past. No one traveled that far into the past without destroying themselves… or history, surely. With no way to go back to their own time, the pair of them were trapped.
Her breathing began to come in painful, rasping gasps as her throat tightened and blood pounded in her ears. Hermione looked up at the peaceful castle—much too still in the grey pre-dawn light—and thought about her parents, newly married and so young. She thought about Harry and Ron and the new job she'd not even had a chance to start. What would Molly think?
Hiccuping hard, she wiped furiously at the tears and snot streaming down her face. She had to think, she had to… to plan! They had to get away from Hogwarts. No one could see them, least of all Dumbledore. And the war. Were there Death Eaters nearby? Just the thought of those masked, black clad monsters had her drawing her wand and pushing up from the ground, spinning around on shaking legs.
"George! We've got to… we need.. no one can see… it's not safe!"
For some reason she could not comprehend in her panic, he didn't seem to be nearly as concerned about all the potential danger as she was. He didn't seem to have heard her at all for still he sat, unmoving but for the shake of his shoulders as he sobbed quietly into his lap. Fighting to calm herself, Hermione fell to her knees beside him and tried to pull him up.
"Come on, George. We need to get out of here before someone sees us!"
He gave her a half-hearted shove and shook his head. "Why does it matter? Who cares if anyone sees us! I did all of this," he gestured limply around then, "we traveled to the bloody past and I've still lost him, Hermione. I'm no closer to him now than I was when he was dead!"
Some of his sorrow penetrated the haze of her terrified anxiety and she stopped trying to move him. Glancing nervously up at the castle one last time, she wiped her eyes again and slumped down beside him. They were trapped here, twenty years away from their lives and loved ones and he was right. Fred—as her parents had been to her before they'd traveled back in time—might as well have been dead for all George could have him back.
"Oh, George… George, I'm so sorry."
He heaved a choked breath and she reached for one of his hands, hoping the gesture was as comforting to him as it was to her. After a while he seemed to get some measure of control over himself, though his voice still sounded small and fragile.
"It feels like I've lost him all over again, Hermione. We're going to be born soon, in just a few hours and little Fred will be there alive and whole... but he won't be mine will he?" Hermione wiped her eyes on his sleeve as she pressed her face into his shoulder. He sniffed and dashed his free hand across his face. "I was so certain I was going to get him back. It was so easy and clear in my head. Now he might as well still be dead for all that foolish hope and planning."
Sniffling softly and still trying to clear her own head, she looked up at the lightening sky. "It wasn't foolish, George. Maybe reckless but… not foolish."
There was a soft clunk as he let his head loll back against the gate with a sigh. "Should have let you try and find those Kremlins after all. Might've been able to help. I'm sorry for dragging you along into this mess, Hermione."
She snorted. "You didn't drag me anywhere, George. I insisted on coming, remember?"
A huff of breath stirred her hair. "I guess that's true. Still… What about your parents?"
Breathing a soft, sad laugh, Hermione shrugged. "They didn't know me in the future. I don't see a difference now." She thought for a moment. "They started their first practice last fall, I suppose I can still see them for my teeth."
As the sky continued to lighten, soft pinks and oranges breaking through the dull gray clouds, Hermione tried to think of what they should do next. Drying the last of her tears, she sat up so she could see his face. He still looked like troll shite, but he met her gaze with clear eyes.
"We need to get out of here, George. We've already been here too long, Dumbledore's bound to notice before long and that's the last thing we need."
George scrubbed a hand down his face, still splotchy and streaked, and opened his mouth to reply but someone else beat him to it.
"Ah. I'm afraid you're late on that front, my dear."
A/N SO. I just finished chapter 20 at 63k words so I am going to start updating 2x a week. I am due with my fourth baby in 6 to 7 weeks so I'm not sure how that will affect my writing speed but I don't really want to wait forever to finish updating lol