Exactly one hour and thirty-two minutes later (she knew this because the gaudy owl clock nestled between the loo rolls on the windowsil, had told her so) Hermione found herself coaxed out of the bathroom like frightened animal by the careful coos of the Potter house-elf, Tilly. Walking hand-in-hand with the sunshine-painted house-elf, she was quietly herded back towards the living room where she was then shooed towards the couch and buried beneath a heavy quidditch quilt, clinging tightly to both Tilly's hand and the purring kneazle—"This adorable little monster is Elvendork!"—as the adults tried to pry answers from her.
Mercifully, Dumbledore had been quarantined to the garden where Mad-Eye had flitted off to and barred by the backs of the present Marauders, blocking him from view even in the window, much to his chagrin. Hermione winced again as she felt more than saw Dumbledore tried to pry into her mind; the legilimency walls she had built up during her lessons from way back when (Harry was always terrible at explaining things, but thankfully books had always been her saviour. That, and a rather vindictive potions professor & a nosy headmaster who had no such qualms about peering inside), slowly crumbling away with each battering of the ram. There was something to be said about the stubbornness of old.
Lily, who had been running a cursory check-up of the girl now that she was awake, asked of her again what was wrong when she saw the pained expression upon the younger witch's face. But Hermione just buried her face into Elvendork's scruff and tried to focus on barring Dumbledore from her mind instead of the questions she was being asked. Hermione didn't know how much these people knew, but when she woke her beaded bag with all of her secrets hidden inside, was gone. If they knew anything, they didn't say, but she could recognise the calculating nature of the redhead's gaze. She'd seen it many times before, of course, in her own eyes. Not to mention, Lily had been lorded as the Brightest Witch of her Age, so this? This was about to be a game of chess all in one. Pity Ron wasn't here, chess was more of his game.
"…Honey, honey, please, we need you to answer some questions for us, okay?" Lily tried again, her tone soft and gentle as she crouched in front of Hermione with hands barely hovering over her knees. Hermione looked up from the ginger fur, but did not answer. "Can you tell us your name, at least?"
"What about your family?" James tried when his wife got no answer. "Where are they? Do they know where you are?"
"How old is she, anyway?" Sirius puzzled, head titled in question as he studied the frightened girl on the Potter's couch.
"Can't be any older than nine or ten" He replied, nostrils flaring as if he was trying to discern her age by scent alone.
"Mate, how'd she even find this place?" Sirius then turned fully to face James, their questions for the girl forgotten for a moment. "Aren't you s'posed to be under secrecy?"
"I dunno" He shrugged uselessly, "She just turned up in the middle of the night, sopping wet"
"What? You think she just apparated here or something?"
"She'd have to be some kind of genius to do that without splinching herself"
"And what about the wards? Where'd they go?"
"I dunno mate, your guess is as good as mine"
Hermione couldn't help but feel proud at that and a smirk fought its way onto her lips at the comment about her intelligence. Yes, she was technically a hundred & thirty-five year old woman in the body of a ten year old; but she had also been heralded as the Brightest Witch of her Age for most of her school career, so there was at least some merit to the men's comments. not that they should know that, of course, all they saw was a frightened girl clinging to both their pregnant & happy kneazle and their equally concerned house-elf who sat, rubbing circles into the back of her hand.
Aside from the mental chess she was currently playing with the redheaded witch with all of these questions, Hermione hungered to know where her beaded bag had gone; eyes roving every which way in search of it. But wherever it was, it was not out in the open; which meant that she would have to go looking for it, preferably without an extra pair of eyes watching her. She could, of course, just accio the thing to her, but at that point in time she had enough trouble keeping Dumbledore out of her mind, dodging invasive questions and just staying upright. Even though her fever had broken, her body was still begging for more rest. Something she would happily give, if given just a moment's respite.
Then again, Hermione couldn't quite believe her eyes or ears as she sat all bundled up on their couch. She had always been one of an analytical mind, despite her brash and slightly pyromaniac tendencies that might suggest otherwise; even her experience with time travel in the past (or future?) she still felt far out of her depth. She'd been aiming for the summer of her fourth year when the Triwizard Tournament had ended and the metaphorical shit had hit the fan quite hard. That ritual had been all about intent. You had to picture where and when you wanted to was why she had picked Hogwarts' Isle of the Dead as her ritual site; it was far enough from the main shore that no one would question why she was suddenly just there and she could blend into the crowds.
Unfortunately, it seems her thoughts had wandered just that bit too far; landing her here, further in the past than she'd intended. Of course, logically, she knew that tinkering with dark and ancient magicks like the eldritch eggs was something that only the stupid and/or brave did—one could argue that it was both—but her thirst for knowledge had always outweighed those hesitations. And of course, there was the whole don't-let-your-friends-die-stupidly-dangerous-deaths-thing that she had going on. Honestly, it was a wonder they hadn't died already, or worse, been expelled (even now, she could hear Ron's voice in her mind, telling her to sort out her priorities).
And yet here she was staring into the concerned eyes of Lily Potter (neé Evans), (deceased) mother to her best friend, Hardwin J. Potter II; someone, who despite being lorded as martyr, was alive and well. Twenty-one, her mind blanked, They were only TWENTY-ONE years old! That was only FIVE years older than her current age! They were BOTH so young! Sure, she'd heard the various stories over the years and Harry had that old photo album that Hagrid had given him in their first year, but actually looking her in the face kind of hurt.
Her husband, James Potter, was no better; in fact, he might've been worse. Looking at him was like staring Harry (as she had known him) in the face, but without the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead or the sea-green eyes of his mother. She could practically picture Ron hanging off of his shoulder with hair tied back to show his war scars as the pair laughed over something stupid, argued about some quidditch team or strong-armed each other into another game of wizard's chess.
The guilt over not keeping in touch with her two best friends, resurged once more. The last time she could think of even seeing them all together was at the last Weasley gathering where they had announced their first pregnancy. Mrs Weasley had been overjoyed for them and Ron was still stupidly overprotective of his sister. The only other fuss that had erupted that night was Mrs Weasley's reaction to George's recently dyed hair; gone was the family red and instead replaced with the blue of his nephew, Teddy Lupin. It wasn't until later, when Hermione had gone to fetch a cup of tea that she'd seen George weeping in to his mother's arms as he cried about seeing his dead twin in the mirror each morning when he woke.
Blinking back tears, she instead turned her attention to the canine of the group. Hermione had heard countless tales of Sirius being the ladies' man of the group, bedding and flirting with more girls than you could rightly count. In fact, at one point, the weathered canine had brought up the fact that it had been Lily who had started the betting pool between their friends over the end of his skirt-chasing days. Sirius, of course (likely to spite his parents who begged for grandchildren), bet on never. A notion which had been backed up by Peter, if only because he was a follower of the popular and powerful.
Lily had thought him old & grey, pushed around in a wheelchair by a much younger wife, whilst James had gone for knocking up some hooker. Remus hadn't bettered, but instead supposedly given a secretive and knowing smirk when offered to join the bet. Which was starting to make more sense now that she watched Sirius practically clung to James like he was a koala in a tree; honestly the man had just about flung himself completely on a top of the cervine (who appeared equally as unbothered by it) like he was trying to make a puppy pile in the middle of the living room.
And last but not least, there was Harry himself who sat nestled in the Jolly Jumper which hung from the archway that bordered the living and dining rooms. He bore no scar as she had observed before and his ridiculously bright onesie sat stark against the background of the room behind him. It was odd seeing him like this, so little and helpless. Hermione smiled fondly as she watched Harry giggle and gabble about unknown things and he waved his little fists in the air, talking to whomever would listen. It was a sweet scene and something so domestic that it struck a chord with her, pulling her thoughts into the dim and the dark.
She knew that if there was a Harry Potter alive, well and toddler right here, then that meant there was a Hermione J. Granger somewhere in Hampstead (probably in that nursery she had seen upon arrival) born of curls and gummy teeth. She couldn't very well be that Hermione anymore and it saddened her. Logically she knew that her past self—her original self—would still get the same experiences (hopefully without the yearly death threats) but it wouldn't be her. She would be Jean Granger (named for her long-deceased aunt) alone in a world that was not her own. It was then that Hermione knew she would have to say goodbye to Hermione, to the girl that embodied that name and all it entailed.
"—Guys, guys! Oi! Dipsticks! Just back up a minute, okay?" Lily snapped, interjecting through their conversation and layered voices.
"Yes, ma'am!" Both James & Sirius saluted the muggleborn, standing to attention as they jumped a step or two to avoid crowding around the girls. Hermione didn't known if it was supposed to be comical, or if it was just years of conditioning that had them falling into line, but either way small & hoarse giggles fell from her lips that she tried to muffle into Elvendork's fluff. The kneazle in question, seemed to have given up on any attempts to escape (if there had been any at all) and just sort of slumped over in her grip like a resigned ragdoll that occasionally rumbled with a purr.
"Hey, hey" Lily tried agains as those present snapped to attention at the sound of her laughter. Hermione could've almost sworn that the canine's nonexistent ears perked up at the sound as their invisible tail wagged like an excitable puppy. In turn, Hermione sank back further into Tilly's side and hugged Elvendork closer as if they would defend her from the strange people before her. "Hey, no, no, hey. It's okay, it's okay, we're not gonna hurt you. My name is Lily" She pointed to herself before she gestured to each of the other people in turn. "And that's James & Sirius. And the one next to you is Tilly"
"Hey, kitten" Sirius smiled in kind, the grin all teeth. She felt tears bead in the corners of her eyes at the familiar nickname. Of course, the last time the animagus had presented her with such a name was after the umpteenth retelling of their escapade with the Polyjuice Potion in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom in second year. Harry & Ron had never let her live that bloody mistake down, even as they'd grown old. Damn cat hairs!
"Way to go dumbarse! You made her cry again!" James cuffed Sirius over the back of the head, in a more playful manner than anything reprimanding.
"I didn't mean to!" Sirius whined pitifully, rubbing the spot as he pouted like a petulant child.
"If you lot can't calm down, you can go outside with the other old men!" Lily snapped over her shoulder before turning back to the child where Tilly sat rubbing her shoulder. "Can you tell us your name, sweetie?"
"…Jean" Hermione eventually mumbled her middle name. It sounded sad even to her own ears.
"Jean?" Sirius reiterated, being the only one who could actually catch the quiet reply.
"Jean? Is that right? Jean?" Lily spared a glance over her shoulder at the canine to doublecheck that she'd heard right. At his nod, she turned back to the girl. "Hi, Jean"
"…Hi" Hermione Jean waved shyly in response, her voice no louder than it had been a moment before.
"So, she does talk" James noted with a tilt of his head and Sirius under his arm, struggling to get free.
"Missy Jean" Tilly continued, taking over the conversation as if the mages weren't currently trying to lock each other in headlocks behind her. "Can yous tell wes how yous found the cottage?"
Jean pulled back just enough to answer her questions. "…Th-there…there was a funny man at—at the bus stop" She replied, slightly glad that the redhead had given up on her questions and gone to break up the childish fight between the two wizards. It was starting to get hard to dodge her questions and there was only so long she could stay quiet.
As for the wretched rat man that she had just thrown under the bus, she yet to meet him in this timeline but she was more than ready to throw Peter Pettigrew to the wolves for all that he had done to them. She just hoped that her stuttering words were taken as fear or nerves, and not her attempt to mask her lies. She'd never been the best liar. Across the room, all three mages froze.
"Funny man?" James pursued, brows furrowed as he latched onto the little piece of information.
Jean nodded furiously, "He—he said he had friends out here who—who could help…"
"Who was the funny man, Missy Jean?" Tilly prodded.
"He was funny-looking" She replied.
"What makes you say that?" Sirius asked next as he shared a startled and concerned look with his peers. Clearly they thought she was in cahoots with someone dangerous; if she played her cards right, they would think it was the same one she was hinting at.
"He—he had these big buck teeth and a scary tattoo" She stammered, hands wringing together together in Elvendork's scruff as she fought to rub at her nose—her telltale sign for whenever she was lying through her teeth. "And—and he kept making these weird noises, and he smelt like bad milk & cheese & mushrooms…Do mushrooms even have a smell?"
"…J-Jean—Jean, sweetheart" Lily stuttered, eyes wide and hands shaking slightly as she gripped tight to both James & Sirius. "What—what was the tattoo?"
"Huh?" Jean hummed, sparing a glance over towards them.
"The f-funny man's tattoo" She swallowed thickly, "What was it & where?"
"Um, it—it was, uh, it was a big snake on his arm" She innocently blinked up at the adults, "Why?"
Blank and pale faces stared back at her as sharp intakes of air hissed throughout the room, as the information sank in and they all jumped towards the worst conclusion possible; just as Jean had hoped. Again, she did her best to hide her smug reaction from the adults, this time chewing at her lower lip in an attempt to hide the smirk threatening to appear on her lip. That would not be good.
After Granger—Jean Granger—had dropped the bombshell that was her helper in finding the safe house, the mages had all reconvened in the adjoining kitchen so as to talk privately whilst still keeping an eye on the children. Harry was more than content to bounce up & down in his Jolly Jumper whilst Tilly had disappeared into the recesses of the house, intent on completing her chores now that everything seemed to be under control and Jean had toppled over to the side, cuddled around Elvendork like she was a teddy bear. It appeared that their little interrogation had taken more out of the child than they'd expected, as she'd gone back to sleep as soon as her head had hit the cushions.
"It—it couldn't be…!" Lily had gone pale with fingers clenching tight to the kitchen as if she would topple over at any moment. "Right?"
"Wormtail…!" James whimpered, sounding unsure even as he considered the idea that one of his best mates had turned traitor and sold them to the Dark Lord.
"That rat bastard!" Sirius growled, eyes flashing to that of his animagus in his barely concealed rage as he paced back & forth. The dog, apparently was the only one who did believe in such an action taking place.
"Wait—wait!" James waved his hands about as he tried to sort through all the madness and heightened emotions of everyone else (The utter smugness & relief rolling off of Jean both confused & startled him. And he could've sworn that her eyes, just as they did went Dumbledore went flying, shone a brilliant gold like bright shiny new galleons, straight from Gringotts' vaults. But it was quickly lost beneath the overwhelming panic, grief and despair of his friends that was driving the deer mad). "Has anyone actually seen Pete recently?"
"Not since the last full moon…" Sirius replied slowly.
"No, no, remember he missed the last cycle 'cause his Mum's been sick" Lily reminded them.
"Oh yeah" James nodded.
Sirius paused for a moment as if the thought had just occurred to him. "Is his Mum actually sick? I mean, has anyone actually talked to her?"
"Paddy, what are you saying?" James turned to the canine, "Do you think that Peter made all that up or something?"
"I mean, if what she said was true—"
"—She could've been mistaken! It was dark! It could've been anyone!"
"Pete was your real Secret Keeper, remember Prongs? How could it not have been anyone else? And—and you said that Great, Great Grandfather's portrait told you she was a time traveller! And she had that—that note from Reg! If that doesn't scream 'trouble', then I don't know what does!"
"This is insane!" Lily thread her fingers through her hair in frustration, "Do we really think that Peter is a turncoat? I mean, Peter—our friend—the little Gryffindor who couldn't even hit the broadside of a barn door with a bludger? That Peter Pettigrew?"
"Well, then why would he be at the bus stop in the middle of the night, Flower?" Sirius threw back at the witch. "Why would he even be here? It wasn't his turn for patrol and why would a Secret Keeper even need to be in the same vicinity as their charges? Wouldn't that be detrimental tot he whole Secret-Keeping thing?"`
"It just—it sounds like you want him to be working for You-Know-Who"
Sirius choked at the accusation."I—I don't—that's not—I'm not saying that! I'm just saying, don't you find it suspicious that he's mysteriously missing every other week but when a young witch whose apparently a time traveller appears on your doorstep, with a note about Reg's d-death" He stumbled over the word of his brother's demise. "The wards are gone and Dumbledore just happens to show up, he suddenly reappears?"
Silence followed his words as the idea that one of their best mates—one quarter of the Marauders—was actually a turncoat all along seemed to sink in. Numerous questions fluttered through the minds of the distraught Gryffindors present. How long had he been a turncoat? Had he always been a traitor? Did Dumbledore know? Perhaps—perhaps he was like Snape? Was he a double agent for the Order? He'd certainly done enough infiltration missions to other areas of that realm. Or perhaps—and they really hoped this wasn't the case—it was the other way around? Was he—Merlin, forbid—spying on the Order for the Dark Lord's benefit?
The deathly quiet seemed to stretch on for an age until movement beyond the front window caught Lily's attention. Her expression soured further and her cheeks grew raspberry red in frustration when she saw that they nosy headmaster and their equally eccentric neighbour were being chased around by their house-elf. "Gimme that!" Lily snapped as she turned to snatch the soapy wooden spoon James had picked up from the sink to fiddle with, at some point. Gripping tight to the handle of the utensil like it was her wand, she marched towards the front door, glad that something so benign as nosy elders likely trampling her flowers had appeared to distract her from such depressing thoughts.
"Where're you going, love?" James called after his irate wife.
"To give Tilly a helping hand!" Lily gestured wildly with the wooden spoon as she went. Sirius even had to duck out of the way of her wayward limbs as she skirted her giggling son. "They better not be trampling my petunias!"
"Think she'll be all right?" James worried as the men turned to watch the redhead stomp out the front door and greet the two retreating mages with a battlecry.
"I'm more worried about Dumbledore & Bagshot, to be honest" Sirius hummed in reply. "Lily's a menace with a wooden spoon"
"Well, you would know"
"Oi!"
"Mmhm" He hummed in agreement in as they watched the little redhead & the house-elf chase the two elder mages from the Potter's front lawn like they were a pair of gnomes digging around the bins "Wooden spoon; more dangerous than any wand in the hands of a woman"
"And utterly terrifying in the hands of mages"
"Like I said"