Author's Note:
To the anon reviewers/reviewers with no FFNet accounts: thanks! Especially for cabeza and tbilisia who went into details of the fic's parts that you found interesting/entertaining, and the details that make or break the world's realism for you. To my dearly deceased father, happy deathday celebration (his deathday anniversary is sometime last week).
I'm adding another tag/category to this fic now that we've passed Chapter 16—Connecticut Yankee. If I could choose "Connecticut Yankee" as a genre, believe me, I would have. Yeah, that's some clue to where I'm taking this, isn't it?
To those who don't know what a "Connecticut Yankee" category implies, let's start at the root. It's a shortening of the title of a novel by Mark Twain "A Connecticut Yankee in King's Arthur Court", in which a Yankee engineer somehow gets displaced into, you guessed it, King Arthur's Court. The label now implies a character that arrives at a new environment/milieu/world, or alternate dimension, or different time in which he/she has advantageous knowledge that is beyond what is known in this new society due to coming from a more modern/technologically advanced civilisation/future. Then, the character proceeds to spread/transfer that knowledge to improve the society around him/her.
Of course, the characters may try, but the writers never said they guaranteed success….
'-
17 Detours in St. Mungo's
A slight detour to quantum physics. A little more is seen about Hermione's past (Harry and Ron at the DMLE). A demonstration at St. Mungo's. Hermione returns to Hogwarts once more.
'-
Suppose you were an Unspeakable. If you were about to consider doing some sort of measurement on time and history, then the first thing you need to do was to get a thorough grounding on quantum physics.
Hermione was pretty proud about the way she managed to write a proposal and argue her way up to the Department Head and got paid to take classes at Trinity College, Cambridge (Newton's almamater! Yesss. She took way too many pictures around the campus with a glee that most people won't understand).
It wasn't about being an actual, honest-to-goodness, theoretical physicist (that would take entirely too much time, and Hermione already had too many things to do). But if you're trying to work with time, then why not first keep up with what the people who'd figured out how time interacted with the universe's most basic particles? Especially when they'd figured out that time was just another dimension—with only one direction accessible at the macroscopic scale than both directions like the three spatial dimensions, sure. Yet considering that Hermione was a witch with practical experience of being sent back to a past position in her own timeline, she certainly had a leg up compared to the poor physicists.
Of course, her use of the time turner never went back farther than 24 hours. Too close to her original timeline to accidentally alter something that would be dire for her in the next 24 hours (or create a paradox). It wasn't as if she wasn't given lengthy and precise instructions to its use, and warned that even if she acted rashly, she was the one to suffer the consequences as history is persistent and tends to correct itself.
In physics, she found out later that this was called the Novikov self-consistency principle. In which no object sent into the past can alter the paths that allow it to be sent to the past, because it would create a paradox; if the past is now different so the object does not get sent into the past in the first place, then does that mean that its actions now can't have happened? Time paradoxes are pretty headache-inducing and a pox on the causality of the laws of physics. The self-consistency principle thus imposes a welcome order on the universe and restores causality.
So, no effort to shoot your own parents would work. Perhaps it may turn out that the man who raised you wasn't your biological father after all. Wasn't that interesting to note? And whoops, no, bad mistake, that woman you just killed wasn't your mother either, though now you think of it, they do look unusually alike. Would you like to try to kill more people now? Not that it would help. The universe, basically, is self-maintaining (or self-correcting) in the direction of the primary, consistent timeline.
The main assumption held in the principle is that there is only one timeline, no other alternative timelines exist, or if they do exist, they are not accessible from this timeline.
This is not the only interpretation of quantum mechanics that exists. There is also the Everett interpretation of quantum mechanics, better known as the many-worlds interpretation (Everett turned away from physics when his theory was dismissed from the mainstream of his time; he died at 51 as a successful defence contractor and an alcoholic).
Where classical mechanics is deterministic (e.g., Person A travels at so-and-so kilometres per hour in one direction—you'll always be able to find A as long as you know how many hours has passed), quantum mechanics is probabilistic. You don't know where the electron is around the proton, what you do know is the shape and size of the electron cloud. Whether a particular spot you picked has the electron or not depends on the probability. Is it a low probability spot, or is it a high probability spot? Or maybe, it's just not your lucky day, and even after choosing a high probability spot, you don't find the electron there. Better luck next time.
The Everett interpretation reconciles the probabilistic nature of quantum mechanics with the deterministic one of classical mechanics. Suppose there's a ¼ chance that the electron is in spot A, ½ chance that it's in spot B and ¼ chance it's in spot C. Where is the electron now? Well, why do you even have to choose? The electron exists in all the spots. It's just that those events occur in three different universes. Three different timelines.
How did all these timelines even exist in the first place? Do they just suddenly pop out of nowhere?
Well you see, as Everett would have said, you're looking at this the wrong way. You're too fixed on what you see as your own reality. The 'real' reality is not any single alternative reality that the electron takes—it is not the one where it ends up in A, or in B, or in C. The real reality is the electron's original, universal wave function that describes all three paths as possible outcomes. Reality A, or B or C can be considered as three different aspects of a higher-dimension reality.
A, B and C are mere sides to a triangle. The triangle is the actual reality itself.
It's a simplification, but the main idea is the same. The problem is that humans are beings of 3D space and 1D time. We're bound to our 4D world, and as such, we can't easily conceive higher dimensions (if they exist), and the higher universe that Everett sees as the true universe, of which ours is only one side, is something like that.
Our version of the universe, our timeline, is a mere facet of the (hyper) diamond that is the much larger true universe.
In Everett's interpretation of quantum mechanics, to travel through time is to move to an earlier point of your timeline, true. But if at one point in the past you've acted in such a way as to prevent yourself from being sent into the past (a paradox), what it means is that now, you're no longer moving on your original timeline. You've just shifted to a different one; you have moved to a different side of the higher-dimensional true universe. You're on a new facet of the diamond-shaped universe.
Say hello to an alternate timeline now.
But see, this is where things get interesting, because Novikov's principle and Everett's interpretation actually leads to the same conclusion in the case of time travel.
Do as you wish.
If Novikov's principle is true and there is only ever a single accessible timeline, then it's self-correcting. Either what you do won't matter, or ironically, for the world as you know it to develop, you have to do all the things you ended up doing in the past. (If a time-traveller ever figures out that they are their own childhood hero, that's a special kind of head trip).
If Everett's interpretation is true and that any significant changes you make will only shift the timeline you're on into a new one rather than stay as your original one, then you might as well do all the changes you want to do. Because, why the hell not? It's not as if you're affecting your original timeline, anyway. (Of course, what you do might still look scary to people from your new timeline, because to them, it would seem as if you've gone to the past and erased your future self, as opposed to hopping into the past and swimming up to a new river of time than to continue on your old one).
This is why even as Hermione accompanied Nurse Edelstein to St. Mungo's in confusion, trailing in the wake of the formidable Esmeralda Álava, she didn't hesitate even once when she was asked to inform a group of young nurses what she knew about wounds inflicted by muggle weaponry alongside Maggie Edelstein. Healer Orpington had apparently started to organise groups of nurses or healers that were either sent in her and Nurse Edelstein's direction, to Healer Orpington himself, or to Madam Álava.
The higher-skilled healers and senior nurses certainly ended up with Healer Orpington or Madam Álava. Hermione wouldn't even pretend she can address more than two-thirds of the questions they might field—and that was an optimistic estimate. The trainee nurses and interns don't scare her, though. She'd seen young Aurors with even more bravado, making up in bluff what they have yet to have in experience, and it only amused her (if she was in a good mood), or was annoying as hell (if she was having a bad day).
But after several doubters on the damage that a bullet could inflict, Hermione has had enough. She stopped Nurse Edelstein from chewing the idiots out because she thought she might have a better idea. She asked the nurse if there was a free space that they won't be disturbed at, and if anyone had collected the muggle's exploding sticks.
The glimmer in Maggie's eyes seemed to imply that she knew what Hermione was planning.
Maggie managed to pull some Aurors into bringing what they managed to collect to one of the back courtyards of St. Mungo's. There were copious references to Madam Álava and occasionally also to Healer Orpington, but they got the guns. Hermione cast stasis on them and floated them carefully in front of her. An accidental discharge was the last thing anyone needed. Since the few junior Aurors that Nurse Edelstein had bullied into getting the guns were grumbling, Hermione offered something to salve their annoyance; they're also invited to watch.
"Watch? Watch what? You're going to heal some people?" One of the Aurors squinted down at her. The way his freckles stand up on his nose and his hair was only marginally better in tidiness than Harry's didn't help at all to make her take him seriously.
Hermione didn't roll her eyes even if she was very tempted to. "A demonstration. You want to know what can be done with these too, right?"
That perked him up immediately.
"I can get some friends too, right?"
"Oh, invite anyone you like." She assured him.
He bounded off with enthusiasm. Hermione and Nurse Edelstein continued on at the head of their little entourage. Outgoing patients and the occasional visiting family member or nurse watched them pass with curiosity. Hermione's boots barely made a sound on the marble floor, and she was glad she'd bought them the last time she visited Diagon Alley with Professor Merrythought.
"Do you know how to handle those things?" Maggie asked.
"I know how to handle some models. Not sure if any of these is one, but we might as well try, right?"
She ignored the sceptical expression on Nurse Edelstein's face. Sometimes, the best way to get people to follow you was to act like you know exactly what you're doing and that you're completely confident in your success. That was the second lesson in being a leader. The first one is of course, to actually know what you're doing.
Well, she did. She was about to try finding a gun she knew how to shoot with and shoot with it. That sounded like a plan.
At least she knew that these were no longer early guns, where she actually had to pour gunpowder into the barrel from some gunpowder horn and then manually shove the ball in. No, these come with cartridges, and unless someone left them out in the rain, they'd still be fine. No Auror was going to leave all the guns and cartridges in the rain, right? That seems to be too careless.
"Anyway, do you think we can get some tea, cakes and biccies for everyone?" Hermione asked.
"I might be able to do it," Maggie mused. "Why?"
"it might take some time. It's certainly easier than waiting around with nothing to do."
"Well, alright. I'll see what I can do."
Several of the young people following them perked up. In fact, it that seemed to cheer everyone slightly and made them more favourably disposed to her. She almost laughed. Her real reason was simpler, in a way. She didn't know how much time she'd need to figure out how one of these guns or rifles worked, and they were more liable to wait if they had a distraction at hand. For these young wizards and witches in rather junior positions in St. Mungo's? That was definitely food. She would guess that several of them might have even missed breakfast in a hurry.
They reached the courtyard in a rather disused wing that Nurse Edelstein had been directed to.
Of course, before we proceed here, there were several things that needed to be kept in mind.
Guns hadn't come naturally to Hermione. She was still a witch, first and foremost, and unlike spells, there's no 'less harm' mode for guns. Any instructor would have told their students the same thing—don't aim a gun at anyone you don't want to kill. It was because the risk was always there.
She had flashes of memories about some of the new dark zealots they were fighting against. Some had started hiding in muggle areas. The more annoying part was that they had even started creating enough chaos in the muggle world to have muggle law enforcement going after them. There were many of them that it was a strain on the obliviators—especially with how cameras became more and more ubiquitous. It wasn't even civilian cameras that first gave them an idea of their trouble. It was CCTVs. It invited investigations to any violent altercations that was recorded by CCTVs.
When obliviators insist that they can do it to any and all of the police officers sent, Hermione had to ask them if they had any plans for the paperwork it was going to leave behind. The detectives and officers might lose their memories of the event, but once they get back to the office, they'll see that there is this case that they were supposed to be working on, that they now have absolutely no idea about. Then all they need to do is see the video evidence and start it all over again. If they keep obliviating investigators, the police will just send more, and if they keep doing that, it will alert the muggle authorities that something unknown, memory-altering and possibly dangerous is happening there.
"Do you want to get investigated by the MI5? Because this is how you get investigated by the MI5." Hermione had snapped.
She'd had to remind them that the Minister for Magic is still answerable to Downing Street.
The Prime Minister is certainly one muggle who knew about the wizarding world and how the Ministry of Magic is structured. He was not going be a little ticked off that they were doing large scale memory wipes of his law enforcement for no good reason—he was going to be bloody pissed off.
What she suggested was to cooperate with muggle law enforcement.
Harry and Ron could absolutely get behind that idea. Hermione had argued that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement didn't even need to use the word magic in their alternative name, or even demonstrate magic most of the time. They just need to be officially acknowledged by all branches of the government as a specialised agency dealing with specialised crime, and that cases in their odd jurisdiction (magic) can be safely handed off to them and the more normal side of law enforcement no longer needed to deal with it.
The Department of Magical Law Enforcement had thus joined the 21st century British bureaucracy by officially becoming a member of Her Majesty's Government. They were mostly hidden and classified up to the eyeballs that most people still don't know they exist (of course). But for the times when they have to officially take over high visibility cases from the local police or the Met, they have a badge to flash and a name to use and the case flops over, no obliviation necessary (except for the eyewitnesses, but that's a given). The CCTV record is now theirs to use (or destroy, as it were).
The DMLE did perform the courtesy of telling the conventional police they took cases over from whether an arrest was made, and whether the case holds up in their 'special courts', but again, most details fell under the heading of 'classified'. The boys in blue might complain about the DMLE and nickname them 'the Black Hole' (as in, cases come in, nothing comes out), but they passed their cases all the same. It made things easier in the age of constant cameras.
Harry and Ron were chuffed with the idea that they had real badges that they could show to both muggles and wizards and have it mean something. They made a good show of swaggering into the office with their badges out and wands ready every other day, like some absurd parody of American cop movies, shouting 'freeze', 'you're all under arrest' and insisting that the office snack of the day to be donuts. Hermione was laughing the first several times around—the boys were too ridiculous. Sure, the formal name for the DMLE was intentionally so long and obscure that most people would have no idea who they were or what they do, but if people actually tried to check, it was there. The plan was a hit with the muggleborn wizards and witches at the DMLE who now didn't have to explain so much to their parents about what is it that they do for a living. One muggleborn even retold with high amusement at lunch one day that his parents thought he was some sort of counter-intelligence James Bond, what with how secret his work seems to be.
Harry and Ron sold the idea of learning how to shoot a gun as something they need to do to 'blend in'. It was also enthusiastically backed up by Draco (he was certainly corrupted by the boys). Draco had been kidnapped to more than one movie nights in actual muggle movie theatres—for all of his snobbery, the Slytherin was always weak to getting persuaded by his friends. Hermione also had no idea how they get the support of Terry Boot, or Blaise Zabini (did it even matter? They were in some far-flung corner of the Ministry, for goodness' sakes, not the DMLE) and other old Hogwarts colleagues as well as those from different years.
But it worked. All those arguments and support and lobbying worked.
Basically, training how to shoot a gun became mandatory in the DMLE (it helped them blend in when they liaise with muggle law enforcement, and they're not as helpless in situations where they can't publicly display magic). It was optional for other Ministry employees—of course, no one else from other departments was required to keep up the skill as they were wizards and witches. It was entirely optional. Hermione took one for thoroughness' sakes. She never really carried a gun to the field and never felt the need to, even if she did accompany the boys to the range from time to time to practise.
Now, as Maggie Edelstein transfigured two blocks of wood into pig carcasses, Hermione was about to demonstrate that knowledge for posterity.
"What is she doing?" One of the interns mumbled to another, but still within hearing range of Hermione.
"I don't know. She's fiddling. Can she use that thing?"
"I'm more concerned whether we're safe."
She recognised the cardboard cartridge boxes. The 8L on the label probably meant they were 8 mm. Hermione sighed over the dampness of one box and set it aside. The rest seemed to be alright. She found one rifle that seemed reasonably dry among others. She cast a quick-drying spell just to be sure and did the same for the box of cartridge.
Alright, I could do this. The cartridges go in here and…wait, this seems to have more space. How many could fit here? One? Push down and wait for the click—yes, that's it. Two, three…oh, it could fit a few. It's just not obvious at first because there's that spring mechanism at the bottom that pushes up. Well, I suppose it would be impractical if it could only fit one or two, right? Another one and…sheesh, how many shots are you going to take anyway, Hermione? Four is fine. Or maybe I should add one more in case I slip and didn't quite hit where I want? She had to speak to herself, the mental ramble was somehow soothing. If she didn't, her hands might tremble slightly with nerves.
She just wanted to hit some place on the pig carcass that had bone, just to demonstrate the effect. It was probably a good idea to aim some of the shots at. She didn't notice that the noises had actually quieted down.
"Nurse Edelstein?" Hermione called out.
"Yes, Hermione?"
"Can you please make sure that no one's going to walk onto the courtyard? Do we have some means of isolating it?"
"We're isolated enough as it is. It's fine. These fine gentlemen would stand guard, even." She motioned to the freckled Auror that had returned and brought some of his friends. They were staring at Hermione with undisguised curiosity. She waited until they took positions and confirmed it back.
"No one cross the courtyard, alright? I repeat, no one cross the courtyard while I'm firing."
"I'll make sure of it," Nurse Edelstein confirmed.
She made some ear muffs out of her scarf and settled it around her ears. Hermione did her best to ignore the moving people, clearly still chatting from their hand gestures and moving lips. She raised the rifle and settled the butt on her shoulder. It's not even that far, she noted about the target. This is shooting fish in a barrel. She chose four spots on the first pig carcass and started. Two holes appeared on the chests, the carcass now swinging slowly. Hopefully, one of the shots had hit the ribs. Another two shots went on the stomach to demonstrate the effects on the guts. There's still another shot she could take. Another one for the ribs, then, in case she'd missed the earlier two.
When she lowered the rifle and pulled her impromptu earmuffs down, she could see more than one young nurse or intern demonstrating fear of her.
"She could…she could use that thing. She's a muggleborn, isn't she?" A voice murmured.
Hermione ignored then and walked towards the carcass, raising the volume of her voice to carry well.
"Some of you have questions on the amount of damage an exploding stick, a gun, can actually inflict. Well, here it is. Everyone, move forward. We have a first-hand demonstration."
She floated the pig carcass out of its hook and laid it on the ground. Hermione knelt and checked the location of the wounds. She mentally scanned through several cutting charms she knew and chose one that cut in specific depths. She made a Y incision on the pig's chest and opened the skin flaps when she was done. Her audience had started to drift towards the carcass out of sheer curiosity.
"Look at that rib, it's pulverised. This is why it's always prudent to check for broken bones and fractures when someone gets shot, because it is completely possible. Now, let's see the next one. It only nicked a rib and went straight through the lungs." Hermione picked two leaves from the ground and transfigured it into a pair of plastic gloves. She wore it to reach for the pig's lung and lift it. "It's gone straight to the back too. Guess what happens if this is an actual person? The patient has a sucking chest wound. Guess what happens if the surface wounds are healed?"
Hermione pulled the plastic gloves off and threw it on the ground as she picked up her wand again.
"It's no longer a sucking chest wound, but the lung is still leaking. Now, what happens if someone's lungs have been shot in more than one place? Congratulations! You now have someone who's slowly drowning in his own blood, but no one around the poor sod even has a bloody clue." She snapped. "Of course, maybe the wound doesn't bleed into the lungs, maybe it bleeds out. Well, good, that means you have blood pouring into the thoracic cavity!"
"Now, who's still a smart ass enough to say that closing up the wound was the best thing you could do and that everything is minor wounds beyond that, hmm? I've seen more than one friend gets shot, so anyone thinking this is just something you can walk away from is asking for it." She knew she wasn't being fair to most of them, but she has had it. Seeing the guts and viscera again, even if it's just those of a transfigured pig, was starting to get to her. Not many dared to meet her eyes as she stared them down one by one.
"Shall we see what happens when the colon gets perforated? Well, that's next. I got two hits in at the abdomen, at any rate. If we don't get to see the colon get perforated, then it's probably the intestine that has a hole or two. If we're lucky, it might even hit the stomach—gastric acid leaks for everyone! Let's see Mr. Piggy here get his insides peeled by the acid!" Her tone had gotten increasingly sarcastic the further she went.
Nurse Edelstein had sidled up next to her.
"I think I get this," she said softly. "Want me to take over?"
Hermione let out a gust of sigh. She had only been going over the gross injuries and hadn't gone into the minute details that they also need to know. Then again, her patience was fraying into something dangerously ragged already and it was probably a side-effect of that.
"Yes, please. I thought I could do this, but I forgot I really can't stand fools."
Maggie patted her shoulder. "It's alright. You can have your tea and crumpets before you teach the next group, and I can walk this one through the rest of the internal damage."
"And then we get to the effects of explosives," Hermione added with false cheer. "Goody."
"And then we get to explosives." Maggie confirmed.
'-
Hermione calmed down after the first group.
The tea and cakes probably helped, and the crack of the rifles probably reminded the gaggle of young medics and nurses that the exploding sticks, the guns, were actual weapons instead of toys and they now took it seriously. The other groups that arrived later were less rowdy than the first one, to Hermione's relief. She managed to teach two more without Nurse Edelstein having to step in often to add factoids that she might have missed or forgotten.
Madam Álava came sometime around the third session, followed with orderlies who carried actual pig carcasses. They were calmly moving and hanging it against the wall. Behind her came Healer Orpington, the white robes of the healers of St. Mungo's along with the nurses.
"I hear what you've been doing, Hermione." Madam Álava said. "And I thought to myself, what if even more people still disbelieve the effectiveness of these weapons? Well, I thought we should leave them more permanent reminders."
The freckled Auror whose name she still didn't know moved forward.
"We agree. You can use however much of these things you need to use to demonstrate."
Hermione turned to Nurse Edelstein. "I'll trust you to secure the area, Nurse Edelstein."
"Of course, Hermione."
There were five carcasses this time. She slowly moved to her previous spot, pulling her temporary earmuffs back to their place and knelt on the ground. There was a chair that she'd dragged close. She supposed she was going to use that again too for support. The chatter of the world receded and she could focus on the boxes of cartridges. Hermione absentmindedly dried them and took the rifle she had used before. She blocked the outside world. All the eyes, all the people and the attention, they weren't there. There was just her, slowly pushing cartridges in, listening to the tell-tale click before taking the next one and pushing that in.
She raised the rifle and decided to shoot from the left. One shot, two shots, three. She let the carcass swing a little, got used to the swinging pattern and made two more shots. Eject the spent cartridges, she reminded herself. Wait for the click, she'd say as she placed new cartridges in.
Hermione had made the exact same shots that she did before—she aimed to hit at least one rib and hit the guts twice. The last shot was always a bit random, depending on her whim. She did this until the third carcass and realised that the fourth and fifth still had their heads. Well, that would be a good opportunity to study head wounds, right? She decided then that the heads would get two shots from now on, the gut only one, and the chest two.
Ron was right. It was easier doing this if she didn't try to think about anything in particular and just lose herself in the rhythm of the movements. Besides, these were not people, they're just pigs.
When Hermione lowered her rifle for the last time and stood up, she saw the proud look in Esmeralda Álava's face, true. She could also see Maggie's satisfied smirk, probably because she'd just won an argument against some of her friends or colleagues about Hermione.
It still didn't make it any easier to see several of the gazes that were filled with fear.
She clenched her fists. It was ridiculous. The wand was also easily an instrument of death. In fact, she would use it with far more ease than she could use any gun, and she couldn't even run out of ammo! And yet it was the latter that prompted their fear, it was the latter that made people see her as something larger than life. Of course, there were always the murmurs.
"I think she's a muggleborn."
"Scary, aren't they?"
Somehow, that old appellation became much more sinister here.
'-
When Hermione stepped out of the infirmary office's fireplace, she was surprised to see Lakshmi and Tom there, sitting calmly as if it was normal for them to greet each other and chat. The sun was already low in the sky, and the east-facing infirmary office was not so bright without direct afternoon sun.
"Eugenie was here for a while, but the Free French Mages wanted to convene again and she couldn't say no to them either." Lakshmi clarified. "Bunch of sodding Gryffindors, I tell you."
"Welcome back." Tom said.
Nurse Edelstein stepped out of the fireplace behind Hermione, but she herself was too surprised to move.
"I…I'm back." Hermione said with relief. "I'm back."
Lakshmi stared at her curiously. "St. Mungo's can't be that bad. What happened to just explaining about wounds?"
She hugged the other Ravenclaw without compunction, and she laughed because she didn't feel like crying. Even when surprised, her friend just went with it and patted her back.
"What, they tested you first before letting you explain things? It couldn't be that hard for you, could it? I saw what you call your bedtime reading, Missy."
"Well, you guys can go catch up with each other. I'm going to go find someone else I can gossip with." Nurse Edelstein said. Hermione released Lakshmi and waved at her absently.
"Enjoy your break," the brunette said.
"Absolutely. You too."
The nurse walked out. Tom was watching her carefully, and it almost reminded her of their early encounters when he was always trying to read her intent, her possible moves.
"Hermione?"
Oh, what the hell. There was just Lakshmi, she thought, and oddly enough, Tom was also a friend at this point. Where he expected her to perhaps take his hand, she launched herself into his arms and buried her face at the crook of his neck. His cologne was very muted, something of oak and forest, and it was mostly only something distinctly him and soap. She found she preferred that compared to guys who doused themselves in it that her eyes watered and she could swear her olfactory cells died by the thousands.
Tom was tense for a moment before he slowly relaxed again and held her back without a second thought. Hermione was sure she heard a snort from the other witch, but she was unexpectedly quiet. He was rubbing circles into her back, and as comfortable as it was, she owed them some explanations.
"People said 'muggleborn' behind my back as if it meant something close to 'monster'"
He stiffened for a split second. The sentence wasn't exactly what she wanted to say, but Hermione couldn't find it in her to regret it. It did describe the situation enough. She still hadn't pulled herself away from his arms as she said it. He was solid and supportive and it was nice and warm to be held. It's nothing personal, she told herself. Really.
"What? Who on earth are those idiots? You're the last person I'd blame for anything, you're just that compulsive a do-gooder. It's actually tiring seeing you walk around and help anyone who trips into your path."
She almost rolled her eyes. Lakshmi's outrage was unexpected, but the exaggeration and backhanded compliment was all her. Hermione lifted her head and sighed.
"I don't know if I can blame them, though. I mean, the first group had a lot of doubters and were getting really annoying. So, I thought I can stage a little demonstration for them."
"Demonstration?"
Hermione sighed. "I can use guns—those exploding sticks, yes. I'm not actually used to it. I have never carried them and I will probably mess up in maintenance, but I can use it in an emergency. Preferably at point-blank range."
She could almost hear Lakshmi's forehead scrunching even when she wasn't looking. There was a pause in Tom's movements. She certainly gave him something to think about.
"Why would you even know that?"
"War."
Her Ravenclaw friend snorted. "That's your answer for everything, isn't it?"
"And yet it's true. Even my pureblood friends learned out of curiosity."
Things were quiet for a few more moments. She couldn't really see what was happening, but Tom hadn't stopped running his hands down her back. It was nice.
"Alright." Lakshmi finally said. "I'll pass your news along to Eugenie and Lucretia, and maybe anyone else who needs to know. Anthony, you should go wherever it is you two lovebirds go when you avoid the whole world. Our Cleopatra needs to stay away from fools and idiots for a while."
Hermione frowned. "You know that those two ended up dead, don't you?"
"As do all of us," Lakshmi replied philosophically.
"We can take care of ourselves, Chakravarty. Don't let us detain you." Tom finally spoke up again.
Hermione heard a huff. "I certainly won't. I'll see you at dinner Hermione, Riddle."
'-
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End Notes:
I didn't make up all the stuff about Novikov self-consistency principle (the man was trying to find a non-paradoxical solution to Einstein's general relativity when it came to closed time-like curves). Everett's interpretation of quantum mechanics also exists, first posited by Everett in his PhD dissertation. Poor guy was shot down by the physics luminaries of the day as the Copenhagen interpretation* was the order of the day back then. In disappointment, he turned away from physics entirely (hence him being a defence contractor until the end of his life).
So! I hope that answers questions anyone might have about Hermione not 'preserving the timeline' (what timeline? It either preserves itself, or it doesn't).
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Additional Trivia:
Ironically for Everett, one of his critics ended up as supporters of (some form of) his theory, but he was already disillusioned that he didn't return to physics and related research more than a decade after that when doors began to open to him once more. These days, his interpretation is not considered as out there as it had been when he first posited it. Sure, it wasn't in its original form. Yet the general gist of his idea, that reality might be deeper and stranger than what we can get from the meagre interpretation allowed by our weak senses, is pretty much accepted in physics.
*The Copenhagen interpretation basically says that the macro-physical world that we can sense is the real one, with all those weird things implied by quantum mechanics wave functions are just mathematical artefacts instead of clues about the world's deeper structure that humans just can't perceive without instruments.
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Esmeralda Álava (OC): She is a nurse Emeritus at St. Mungo's and several other hospitals. Founder of the Order of Nightingale and definitely one of the people responsible for the establishment of the wizarding version of the nursing profession. Grey-haired, with a sharp mind honed by decades of experience and an even sharper tongue, she is also well-known to be cranky. The bane of slow and inefficient hospital bureaucrats, she does not suffer fools gladly.
Margaret 'Maggie' Edelstein (OC): A nurse that had several years at her job when she heard of the vacancy as Hogwarts' head nurse. She applied with enthusiasm at the thought of being able to visit her (English) mother more often. Was disappointed when she realised that unlike Beauxbatons, Hogwarts 'head nurse' has no staff under her. At all. The position seemed more junior than the title would imply. Fortunately, she's come to terms with her disappointment right now. A pretty young woman with copper hair, she's cheerful, nosy and highly competent.
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