19 February 1972
~Hermione McGonagall~
Months had gone by since they landed in 1971 and Hermione was growing angry with each passing day that they remained. They had made neither progress in fighting Voldemort nor figuring out what happened to them in the first place that landed them in a crater as eleven-year-olds. Her best guess was that a crossfire of strong magic had blasted them back in time but there was nothing like that documented in any of the books she had read and nothing about deaging in the process.
All her worries weighed heavier by Harry's continued avoidance of a hurt Sirius and his new friends - Harry's parents and Remus. Hermione felt useless and deflated and tired of everything, she was so tired of trying. She was quickly burning through her available resources.
Harry had taken to smuggling her meals underneath Madam Pince's nose when he visited her. She would glare at him and chastise him for any possible ruined books if it spilled, but Harry insisted that if she skipped meals to research then he would risk a stain or two to feed her. Not wanting to make him feel any more guilty about her poor health, Hermione picked at the food until he seemed pleased enough to go back to their common room and leave her alone with her books.
Hermione spent every free moment in the library since a pair of First Years couldn't exactly go trapezing through the countryside looking for Voldemort's horcruxes without raising concern at best, suspicion at worst. In her time at the library, Hermione had at least discovered the creation dates of the horcruxes - using her notes and the original timeline. Much of the research she had done was, of course, from the restricted section. As well as a few volumes from the future thanks to her little enchanted beaded bag filled with trinkets from their time on the run.
Hermione had found her magical bag in Hagrid's possession back in January. As it turned out, the fickle accessory had come loose off her shrinking body and been flung out into the woods for Fang to find after their whirlwind trip. The great Neapolitan Mastiff was only a playful pup now and she wasn't surprised to find the majority of the bag chewed on, but a few simple repair charms later and it was as good as new. Hermione had been happy to find her collection of defence books and grimoires, the Potter family Invisibility Cloak and the Marauders Map among the items inside.
Currently, the Gryffindor found herself cocooned in a thick blanket on the common room couch. Avidly taking notes on a scratch piece of parchment in her lap. Hermione took a sip of her unsweetened coffee, taking great care to avoid spilling on her books or creating any rings as she set the hot mug back on the table.
"How do you drink so much coffee? I can't stand the stuff, it tastes like tar." Harry said, taking a long pull from his tea and sighing contently.
"I like to think of it as being a healthy alcoholic," she saw Harry stifle a smile. "And how would you know what tar tastes like?"
It was so rare for him to smile now, it seemed being around his parents and godfather had the opposite effect of what she expected. Harry was awkward around them, even after the day in Madam Malkin's with Sirius, he couldn't spend prolonged periods of time with them. Simple waves hello in the hallways was all he was willing to give. Hermione hadn't expected him to be inseparable from them, but she did think Harry would be more excited to be with them.
"There's nothing healthy about the amount of caffeine you ingest daily."
Hermione shrugged his jabs away with a roll of her eyes. "You know there's more caffeine in tea than there is in coffee. So between the two of us, you're the one with the problem."
"I'm English." Harry said. "Unlike some people, I'm drinking in the name of our people."
"You're being ridiculous. In all seriousness…" Digging in between the pages of her The Tales of Beedle the Bard copy, Hermione pulled out a blank parchment, waving her hand over it she cast a silent Aparecium to reveal the concealed list. She held out the paper towards her best friend. "I made a list of the creation dates for each Horcrux."
Harry cringed but reached for the paper with barely concealed enthusiasm. She watched him read over it carefully, once then twice. Harry looked at her from under his brown hair, impressed. "It looks like he has five by now."
Diary- circa September 1943.
Peverell ring- circa December 1943.
Hufflepuff cup- circa between 1945 and 1946.
Slytherin locket- circa between 1945 and 1946.
Ravenclaw diadem- circa 1956.
"Our best bet would be to find all the Horcruxes and then destroy them all at the same time, like the original plan in our timeline, just in case he can actually sense the torn pieces of his soul and starts making new ones before we can kill him for good." Harry said, nodding down at the list. "Imagine the next one is a single knut that he drops somewhere in Diagon Alley, we'd be screwed."
"We know Lucius Malfoy slipped Ginny the diary in second year so it's possible Abraxas Malfoy could have it now, the cup was in Bellatrix's vault, the locket was in the seaside cave that Regulus left it in and Helena Ravenclaw's ghost in our time said the diadem was in the Room of Requirement." Hermione said, remembering the hidden locations of the Dark Lord's soul from the first time. "So all we need to do is backtrack from where they were in our time and we should be able to track them down now!"
His brows furrowed as he looked over the list again, "What about the ring?"
"Dumbledore found the ring alone but according to my research, it was originally an heirloom to the Gaunt family. I think Morfin Gaunt would have it now, if Voldemort trusted him with it. He would be in his seventies by now, not much of a protector." Hermione said doubtfully.
"At least we know where all of them are." Harry said hopefully. "Mostly, anyways."
"We should start with the diadem since it's already at school. Then we can worry about getting the others and hiding them somewhere until we can safely destroy them all at once." Hermione crossed her legs trying to make herself comfortable.
"How do we do that part?" His eyes were wide, like he hadn't thought about that part of their plan. "Destroying them, I mean."
"Basilisk venom and fiendfyre, same as last time, although I think fiendfyre should definitely be our last resort unless we plan to evacuate Hogwarts and Hogsmeade in case it all goes wrong and we unleash hell on the Scottish Highlands." Hermione looked at the place where his lightning scar used to be and rolled her shoulders. "The Killing Curse may work as well but since we've never tested it, I'm not confident in it."
He nodded mutely before standing from his chair next to the fireplace. "What do we do about the other problem? Snape, Pettigrew, Malfoy, the list goes on. They all end up as Death Eaters." Harry spit each name like a dark curse on his tongue.
"We try nonviolence first." At his outraged face, Hermione held up her hand. "They haven't done anything wrong yet. Snape and Pettigrew are only eleven and Malfoy is thirteen. We can't send them to Azkaban for things they did in a future that may not happen anymore."
Harry sat back against the too soft cushion and spoke in a voice so low she wouldn't have heard him if a pin dropped. "I hate him, Hermione. I hate them all and I don't know how to separate who they were with who they are right now."
He didn't need to elaborate. Peter was a person Harry could never forgive. He had betrayed his parents and gotten them killed, his godfather spent twelve years in Azkaban for Pettigrew's crimes and Remus was left alone to suffer in thinking everyone he loved was dead or had betrayed him. Not to mention his responsibility in Cedric's death and bringing Voldemort back in their time. Even now, as a child who hadn't done anything yet, Harry couldn't stand to look at Peter.
"You don't have to forgive any of them but you can't look at them like the men who did all of those evil things. They're still only children and we can't blame them for the crimes they may commit as adults. We can't condemn them for who we knew them as." Hermione reached across the table to grip his hand. His green eyes looked over her shoulder. "I'm always on your side, Harry, you know that. But we have to draw a line between trying to save lives and playing gods."
He squeezed back reassuringly, "And I'm always on yours. You're right, we can't judge them by everything their thirty year old selves did, but I refuse to let them do any of it again."
"That's fair." Hermione checked the specially marked calendar hanging on the wall above the couch. "How have the full moons been going?" Harry blanched and Mya regretted asking the question so abruptly but she knew it was important to keep track of the cycle.
"It's been a right nightmare. He's alone all night, screaming through the transformation and in terrible pain. Without the Wolfsbane potion he has no control over himself as Moony and without my father and Sirius there with him, he has no comfort or affection. Not to mention that after the full moon, he has to keep quiet about all the pain he's going through." Harry said. "I know we have to keep our distance until Remus can trust us, but it's killing me to watch him like this."
"Do you want me to start coming with you to the Shrieking Shack?" Hermione asked softly. She didn't mention how she didn't know how they were supposed to earn Remus' trust when Harry wouldn't go within ten metres of the Marauders.
"No." Harry immediately shook his head towards his sister. "I love and trust Remus with my life but Moony is dangerous when all he's known is imprisonment and loneliness."
"Harry, you don't have to protect me. I can take care of-" A knock at the door cut through their common room and Hermione snapped her mouth shut. She began stuffing her books into the disillusioned crate next to the couch. "Can you get that?"
"And interact with people?" Harry snorted as he took the stairs two at a time, hurrying up to his bedroom as he called down. "No, thank you! Good luck though!"
Hermione opened the door and peered up at her Aunt from underneath her bangs, a confused little frown pulling down the corners of her mouth. Minerva stood in front of the portrait with a deep scowl over her face.
"Come in, please," Hermione stepped aside as her Aunt gracefully floated into the room. "Is something wrong?"
"You weren't at dinner tonight, as a matter of fact neither of you have been at any meals this entire week." Her voice was tinged with concern and Minerva sat primly on the couch. "I rarely see either of you in the Great Hall."
"I'm sorry to have worried you. I've been caught up in the library, constant research has been a friend of mine as of late." she said. "Truthfully, Harry isn't comfortable in the Great Hall by himself and with me being too busy, he's been keeping me company at the library. There's people there that he's just not ready to be around. For one reason or another."
"What are those reasons, Hermione?"
Hermione sighed and rubbed at the ache between her eyebrows. Minerva could be trusted, but Hermione and Harry had decided that the less people who knew their story, the better. No one could interfere with their plans if nobody knew there were plans to interfere with. But if there was anyone who could be trusted to know anything about them, it was Minerva.
"His parents and his godfather are there." she glanced up the stairs to make sure Harry hadn't come down while they were talking. "He thought he could handle seeing them all the time but it's affecting him more than he thought it would."
"You never talk about the time you came from but I can see the hold it has on you, the fear." Minerva looked around their common area.
"It's difficult to explain how we feel." Hermione crossed her legs. "This place feels like walking through a graveyard sometimes. We knew a lot of these people in our time, whether as friends or foe. We saw some of them die, saw others end lives…" a flash of the wispy, silver gate swallowing up Sirius passed through her head and her eyes dropped to the floor. That day seemed so far from the boy she saw running the halls of Hogwarts.
"I would hope the two of you aren't scheming something I would disapprove of. You aren't, are you?" her eyes narrowed, lips pursed.
"Do you think there's a way for us to go home? To our time?" she asked genuinely instead of answering. She was positive that Minerva wouldn't approve of what they were planning on doing - changing the future. "Back to the people we left behind?"
"I don't know, I think you being here could irrevocably change the future you came from. Which I'm sure you're already aware of," Minerva reaches to grasp her hand. "But I expect to see you at meals from now on. It's not healthy to stay locked up."
Minerva's voice conveyed her 'no defiance accepted' attitude and Hermione nodded silently. "I'll talk to Harry and I promise we'll try to take our meals with everyone else."
Minerva's eyes dropped to where Hermione knew the stacks of books were hidden. "Hermione, I hope you and Harry know exactly what you're doing."
"Me too."
1 March 1972
Remus wasn't in any of his classes the day of the full moon or the day after, as usual. Hermione had expected as much and the last few months had become an unspoken routine between them, but every month it felt just as painful to see his empty seat between the rows where he would sit, avidly listening to everything like it was a gift that he even could. And with the world's views on werewolves, she could understand why he thought his time at Hogwarts was so special.
As an eleven year old, Remus was more reclusive, he talked with the other Marauders but other than them, he kept to himself. Keeping his sandy head down in class, religiously writing down every word the professors said and walking behind James and Sirius in the halls like his new friends could hide him from the rest of the school. Hermione had seen him studying in a private little nook in the library often enough but she couldn't bring herself to build up the courage to cross the distance and go to him. Something about his studious and quiet demeanour reminded her too much of the Professor Lupin she had known in her third year and that reminder kept her at a standstill.
Hermione supposed that as time went on and he got older, Remus would gain a type of tolerance for the unbearable pain of turning into a werewolf once a month. It had been Harry's idea to start keeping track of the days when he would turn so they could watch over him until the other Marauders figured out his secret and could help him through it. She knew the boy he was now would later become her friend and Order comrade. And, at last, nothing but another body on the floor of the Great Hall. He was the same person, just younger and more afraid of who he is, so it stood to reason that he would act relatively the same as his older counterpart.
In the handful of times Remus had talked about his life with the Marauders, he had made it seem like the weight he constantly carried on his shoulders in the future hadn't been there until the first war had taken its toll on them. Like he hadn't developed his self hatred and lived for a while.
Now, she knew it hadn't been the truth.
Remus had been telling her and Harry sweet, little lies to bring them hope in the face of a war that had taken too much from them already and was sure to take even more. Hermione could still see it pulling him down to the ground when he practised wand movement in class or leaned over the table to make a potion, albeit the heaviness was not as large but it was there nonetheless.
Despite knowing who he was and would be, it seemed like Hermione wasn't able to separate them. Between the Professor Remus Lupin who had taught her Defence Against the Dark Arts and the Remus Lupin who sat a row behind her and tried not to jump away when his friends playfully hit him because he had real injuries that flared on contact. But now that they've started to change time, perhaps that Remus Lupin would never come to be at all.
Hermione shook herself out of the memories of Professor Lupin and glanced behind her, over Sirius' ridiculously pinned up dark hair, his wand sticking out of the bun, at the empty seat next to Peter. Hermione turned back to look at the roll of parchment that stuck out of her bag before tuning into the lecture to take more detailed notes. Hermione didn't need them for herself, she had gone through all of this before and saw it as a refresher course, but Remus hadn't done any of this before and she wasn't about to let him fall behind because of the full moons.
Hermione listened intently, not willing to miss anything that could be useful to Remus in the future. Her quill moved seamlessly against the parchment sitting on the desk in front of her. She usually used smuggled muggle pens for her notes but Harry had thought that it would be obvious who made the notes since she was the only one who used them. It wouldn't do them any good to have Remus know they were aware of his condition this soon.
Harry sat next to her, staring off into the distance, a crinkle in his forehead. He ran an aggravated hand through his shaggy brown hair, pushing it away from his glazed eyes. Hermione noted that he could use a haircut soon or he would be able to stick his hair in a bun like Sirius.
"You misspelt 'anaphylactic' and 'hypersensitivity'." Hermione whispered to Harry while Madam Pomfrey gave her lecture. After a herbology lesson went wrong, McGonagall had decided to invite the nurse to lecture each year on safety in the classroom. Hermione wasn't sure how these notes would come in handy for Remus but she figured it was better to be safe rather than sorry.
"We're bloody wizards and we haven't thought of using anything as simple as pencils with erasers." Harry grumbled, crumpling his paper and sliding it away from himself before lowering his head into his folded arms, clearly no longer interested in faking his interest.
"Don't pout, darling," Hermione grinned as she added another side note on Madam Pomfrey's speech. "It's unbecoming of a wizard your age."Her brother snorted and buried his head further in his sleeves, trying in vain to hide himself from the bright afternoon light coming from the classroom windows.
The aged stone glistened with the golden rays streaming through the stained glass. Hermione thought the room looked positively Gryffindor and she suppressed a snort when her eyes slid towards the Slytherin side of the room.
"James, Sirius." Hermione strained her ears to hear Peter's voice calling out from behind her. "Have either of you seen Remus today? He wasn't in the dorm yesterday and I checked the library this morning when he didn't show up for breakfast. I can't find him anywhere."
Hermione saw Harry's fist clench and his eyes shut tightly at the squeal of Peter's voice. Out of everyone they saw and met anew, Peter was the one person Harry couldn't look at for too long without growing angry. Hermione wished she could say that she gave the plump boy a fair chance but she couldn't stomach thinking about him either. Not as an eleven year old sitting behind them and not as a forty year old who choked himself to death in the Malfoy dungeon. She was a hypocrite. Hermione had told Harry to look at the Peter they had met like the innocent child that he currently was, but she couldn't stomach doing it herself.
"He said his mum isn't feeling well and he went to see her for a few days," James answered. Although Hermione could hear the uncertain tinge in his voice as he spoke. There was concern there but it was laced with curiosity. She figured that Remus was never very good at coming up with excuses for his monthly disappearances.
She didn't need to turn around to see Sirius rolling his eyes before he pitched in, "Remus disappears all the time. I reckon something else is going on with him."
James turned away from Madam Pomfrey's lecture and gave his friends his full attention. Not that he had been vividly observing the nurse before Peter had questioned them about Remus' whereabouts. "I think he's hiding something, too. What do you think it is?"
"Maybe he has a gambling problem," Peter piped up and Hermione had to stifle a laugh.
"Peter, he's twelve. He can't run off to spend his galleons willy-nilly." James whispered with slight exasperation. "I say he's running an underground blackmarket."
"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Sirius said dryly.
"More ridiculous than a gambling problem?" James questioned seriously.
There was a minute of silence before Sirius grinned back, "Yes."
Hermione heard something that sounded distinctly like someone being hit over the head with a thick roll of parchment. Then she heard James' satisfied voice asking his friend quietly, "Alright, what do you think it is then, smart one?"
Hermione saw Sirius shrug out of the corner of her eye. He was lounged back in his chair, tipping it over precariously. "Maybe he just gets tired of all these dull lectures and hangs around in Hogsmeade stuffing his face with chocolates while we sit here. Merlin knows I would if I could."
Hermione couldn't help it, she snorted loudly into her hand. It was absolutely hilarious to think that Remus Lupin would ever willingly miss a class for any reason - despite his famous love for sweets. He lived and breathed knowledge, just like her, it was one of the reasons they'd bonded in the first place and why she took notes for him while he was gone. But most of all, Hermione really didn't want Remus to feel like any more of an outsider than he already did because of his condition and the stigma the wizarding world had against werewolves for something they had no control over.
Sirius leaned forward, a frown on his rounded face. Even as a child he looked aristocratic, with a sharp nose and wavy hair. Hermione supposed that came from being raised a Black. "Find something funny, Mya?"
"Just your usual antics, Sirius." Mya saw Harry twitch but he kept his head down.
"Oh, I see how it is. I've come here to learn and you've insulted me. You have undermined me and ruined my education. I expect a written apology, at least several metres of parchment, of course." Sirius pressed a hand over his heart and foreign a swoon into the back of his chair. James snickered next to his best friend.
"Bite me, Black," Hermione said with a roll of her green eyes.
Sirius smirked and bared his teeth, nipping at the open air.
Harry shuffled his feet under their table and Hermione could see the stiffness in his shoulders. He smiled politely when she nudged him but it didn't reach his eyes nor did he look up. Hermione wondered how long Harry could keep himself at a distance from the people they were trying to save. And if he would ever forgive himself if they couldn't save them, knowing how much time he was wasting by staying away from them.
2 March 1972
~Remus Lupin~
Remus' whole body ached, every step sending flares of pain up his legs and back but he pushed himself to walk faster towards the Charms classroom. Full moons always left him dead tired and with a pounding headache behind the eyes for days before and after. Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey was understanding and gave him as many potions as he needed to heal faster after every turn. Without her he would look like a monster on the outside too.
Wouldn't that be a sight? A bloodied boy covered in self-inflicted scars stumbling through the halls covered in tattered clothes and bruised wrists from the magical shackles used to keep others safe from him. Remus grimaced at the mental image, knowing it would certainly end the new friendships he had made in his time at Hogwarts.
It was already a shock to Remus to have friends in the first place with his condition and everything that came with it. Remus spent the majority of his life before meeting Sirius, James and Peter, alone. He had his mum and dad but they were always working, trying to make ends meet so he wouldn't go without. He didn't have anyone his own age at home since his parents were afraid he would accidentally tell someone he was a werewolf or infect them and that wouldn't be good for anyone. Everyone knew that no one liked werewolves, let alone enough to be friends with one.
When he rounded the corner and spotted the open door to Professor Flitwick's classroom, he crept closer, not wanting to disturb whoever was already inside. Remus hadn't gotten out of the infirmary as fast as he wanted to that morning and in a few minutes students would fill the hallway for the start of lessons. But today would be the only day he could catch the culprit. Or he would have to wait another long month to try again.
Although, culprit wasn't exactly the right word.
Whoever it was hadn't done anything wrong but what they had done was enough to cause the panic inside Remus to rise every month. Every month when he came back from his stint in the Shrieking Shack and the following overnight at the infirmary, there would be a neat stack of loopy written notes on his desk. And not once had he caught whoever was leaving them there, because surely they must have a reason for doing it.
It wasn't any of his friends, he had ruled them out fairly quickly.
Sirius barely paid any attention to the professors for his own studies and would be caught dead before he took notes. James was busy either gawking at Lily or scribbling illegibly around sketches of brooms and little snitches. And Peter would have just told him if it was him, the plump boy would relish in the attention. None of them would mysteriously leave them there, nor would they be able to since Remus was usually the first one through the door out of the four of them.
Through the crack in the door he could see the table he and Peter usually shared, the empty surface taunting him and Remus sighed. Professor Flitwick wasn't in the room either, as far as he could tell there was no one there yet. For a moment, disappointment coloured Remus' cheeks, he was so sure that he would catch them this time.
Had he missed them again?
Just as his hopes faded, he saw her.
A little girl sitting at her desk, hands pristinely tapping on the wood as she hummed a tune Remus didn't recognise. Her golden curls fell in messy waves over her shoulders and back, but they looked soft. He could see her tapping her wand between her thin fingers. Remus wondered why he hadn't noticed her before. She had on Gryffindor robes but he couldn't remember seeing her in the common room or at their table in the Great Hall. Her hands carefully reached inside the bag at her feet, rummaging for something. Remus craned his neck to see her pull out several thick rolls of parchment. His eyes widened and he ducked behind a pillar as she hopped off her seat and dropped the papers at his desk with a flick of her wrist. Remus waited for her to do something else but she went back to her chair and continued with her sweet melody.
On his way out from behind the column, Remus' feet caught the train of his too-long robes and he tripped forward. Remus tried to keep himself from falling by catching the door frame but the cuts on his hands pulled and he lowered himself fully to the ground with a grimace. When he glanced up from the floor, he saw her head turned to him in confusion. Enchanting green eyes that he could swear he had seen before looked at him in unmasked concern. Not finding a point in trying to hide again, Remus swallowed thickly and walked to his desk sheepishly.
She watched him cringe away from the bruises as he tried to situate himself on the uncomfortable stool. Remus gingerly flipped through the vellum in front of him. There it was. The elegant loops and detailed writing he was used to seeing every month after the full moon. Remus stared up at her in question.
Who are you? Do you know what I am? he wanted to ask. Aren't you afraid of me?
The girl smiled at him and Remus felt a warm feeling drip over him like sweet honey at her kindness. Not saying a word, she turned back to face the front, waiting for class to start.
Remus wanted to ask her all the questions zooming through his head as he read through the detailed notes in his hands, but suddenly there were too many people in the room. Azule blue, canary yellow, wine red and emerald green robe covered students filing in excitedly. He felt the teasing bumps of his friends as they jolted him out of his thoughts.
"Where have you been?" Peter asked, setting his things down next to Remus' newly acquired notes. "We've been right worried about you for days!"
Remus opened his mouth to answer with a well rehearsed lie at the tip of his tongue, but before he could, James' head snapped towards him. "Do you have a drinking problem?" he asked, earning a scowl from Peter. "Because if you do, we can help. My mum's cousin, Dorea, works in the French Ministry in Human Resources. I bet she could refer you to a good psychologist."
"I don't think that's right." His face scrunched up in confusion, "I don't, for the record."
"See? I told you it was smuggling!" James looked between Sirius and Peter triumphantly, hazel eyes sparkling behind his glasses. "I was right and you both owe me pumpkin pasties."
Sirius rolled his eyes heavensward, like he could find all the answers to how he became friends with such nutters in the ceiling rafters. "Just because he's not an alcoholic doesn't mean you're right either, Potter. And I don't recall ever agreeing to fuel your growing obsession on the off chance that you are right."
James threw a quill at Sirius, getting a splash of not-yet dried ink on his Gryffindor tie. "You would know what's wrong with our mate, then?"
"If you'd stop talking for a quarter of a minute, maybe I'd think of something."
"You can just say you haven't thought of anything."
Before they could continue with whatever strange conversation Remus had accidentally become the topic of, Professor Flitwick called for the class to be quiet as he started the instruction on proper wand movements while performing charms.
As the lecture continued, Remus looked over the notes. It gnawed at him how she knew to take notes for him while he was gone and he couldn't even remember her name. Remus elbowed Peter and kicked the back of Sirius's chair. Remus pointed his quill at the head of honey curls that sat in front of Sirius, hoping she wouldn't hear him and think him an ungrateful creep. "Who is that?"
Sirius glanced at the girl bent over a fresh parchment and whispered back, "That's Hermione McGonagall, goes by Mya. She's the Headmistress's niece."
"And how do you know that? Has our Sirius taken a fancy to the young Miss?" James grinned and rammed his shoulder against the other dark haired boy who just rolled his eyes.
"No, you dolt. I met her and her brother at Madam Malkin's over the summer," Sirius nodded towards the boy sitting next to her. "Harry introduced us. Haven't seen much of them around though since the sorting. They always seem to disappear outside of classes."
At his friend's curious looks, Remus glanced down at the pile in his hands nervously. Remus wasn't sure if he should tell his friends about the notes she made for him or keep it a secret. Then again what would he say? That he was getting notes for the classes he was missing because he was transforming into a monster once a month and couldn't attend them himself?
He shook his head, shoving the notes carefully into his bookbag. "Just wondering, is all. I didn't recognize her and she's got Gryffindor robes on."
"Now that you mention it, it is odd that she's never at the tower." James frowned.
"Yeah." Sirius didn't say anything else for the rest of the class.
Remus spent the rest of the day trying to pay attention to their professors. He wanted to ask Mya so many questions but anytime he tried to catch her between classes, she would slip into a crowd of students or his friends would drag him somewhere else and he'd miss his chance.
He found the whole situation rather vexing.
She was avoiding him but she had taken the time to help him every month without seeking recognition or even a simple 'thank you' from him. Remus just couldn't understand what her motives could be oe how she knew he needed help anyways.
In the following months, Remus didn't find notes on his desk first thing in the morning. It had been a shock to walk into their Charms classroom and be the only one there, a small part hoping that Hermione would be in her seat already. The first time it had happened he was disappointed and unpleasantly surprised, it was one of the constants of his life and he still hadn't gotten the chance to ask Hermione why she did it. Later, on those same days, he would find notes shoved into a side pocket of his bag.
Month after month, Remus didn't fall behind with his assignments because he always had the notes she wrote for him packed away with his own. Hermione never came close enough to him, yet the notes still appeared on his desk or in his bag each month like clockwork.
13 May 1972
~Hermione McGonagall~
Ever since Remus caught her leaving the customary notes on his desk, she'd been having a hard time avoiding the persistent little werewolf. It had gotten to the point where he would show up to their first class half an hour early and she had to loiter in the halls until other students decided it was close enough to the start of class to come in. More often than not, Hermione ended up handing off the papers for Harry to slip into Remus' bag sometime during the day
For a while, Hermione had thought about stopping. Surely, he could take care of himself without the notes from her, but her conscience wouldn't let her. Especially not after they had a full seminar on magical creatures during one of his missed days. It had been so much information at one time that even she had trouble keeping up with the long-winded speech.
It was three weeks until school let out for the summer then she could spend all of her time in the library, surrounded by books without the anxiety eating at her stomach any time she thought about Remus waiting around the corner for her. If he asked her why she did it or if she knew about him, what could she possibly say without creating a dozen other questions?
She turned the page of the herbology textbook without seeing the words printed on the cardstock page. Hermione was certain that she'd already read the book in her lap anyways. There was nothing in it, there wasn't anything in any of them that was useful to her at all. Hermione felt like she was just going around in circles trying to figure out what had happened to them and it was driving her mad. Perhaps she should ask McGonagall, Hermione glanced at the clock and decided that Minerva must be done with her Headmistress duties for the day.
Then it hit her, Hermione bolted upright, causing the chair underneath her to fall onto the floor. She couldn't be bothered to pick it up as she searched through the books on the desk. There had been one book that she had initially dismissed as theoretical nonsense but looking through the pile now, how could she be so stupid as to dismiss it?
When they had first arrived, she had noticed little things were different. Nothing terrible to set off an alarm in her head but they were noticeable changes nonetheless. Minerva McGonagall was Headmistress years before she was meant to be and Albus Dumbledore was still the Transfiguration professor. Lily Evans liked riding a broom. Severus Snape wasn't good at Potions. Lucius Malfoy didn't keep a constant sneer on his face. Looking at those things now, she felt like a total numpty. Some of them were easy to ignore, Snape could find his passion for potions later on and Lily could develop a fear of brooms. But she had chosen to ignore the bigger differences like McGonagall because they worked in her favour.
How could she not have figured it out sooner?
Of course things would be different here!
Hermione exhaled loudly when she spotted the torn binding of the book she was trying to find peeking out from under a pile of scrolls. Grabbing the book and throwing her bag over her shoulder, she ran out of the library. Smiling apologetically towards Madam Pince as she passed. She ran past several groups of students. The moving staircases froze as Hermione sprinted towards her common room, apparently sensing her distress. When she could see the portrait hole, Hermione pulled to a harsh stop.
When the painting was happy with her password, Hermione shuffled inside.
Harry was sitting on the couch, looking dejected at a flyer for Quidditch tryouts. When he heard the door slam shut, Harry was on his feet with his wand in hand before she could announce herself. Hermione held her hands up in surrender, panting heavily from her run from the library.
"Bloody hell woman, you about gave me a heart attack." When he lowered his wand, Hermione sprawled in a chair, catching her breath. "What's got you in such a rush?"
"I figured out where we are." She finally said, excitement returning to her voice. "And you are not going to believe this!"
"We're in 1972, it's not exactly new information." Harry said, brows furrowed.
"No, Harry. Not when, that's not the only place we went." Opening the book to the correct page, Hermione tapped the golden and sparkling drawing. "I said where we are!"
"What am I looking at?" he asked.
"Have you heard about the multiverse theory?" Harry shook his head, looking down at the turning planets overlapping. "According to muggle scientists, the multiverse is a hypothetical set of various possible universes. So any choice we make, there's a theoretical split in the road where another version of us took the other option. Thus creating a new universe."
Hermione heard him mumble something that sounded suspiciously like 'hypothetical my arse' but chose to ignore it. "And you think we've landed in another universe?" Harry questioned. "But it's so much like ours and wouldn't that mean we should have landed in our bodies here?"
"This one was probably the closest variation to ours. Maybe the difference that influenced it is that Minerva is Headmistress or anything else really, but that doesn't really matter anymore," Hermione shrugged. Anyone who knew half as much as they did about Albus Dumbledore knew he wasn't exactly a saint and wouldn't have been trusted to run a school without Minerva. "We probably would have, except we're in 1972. Neither of us have been born yet."
Hary scratched at the back of his neck, studying the glowing picture. "So what now?"
"For one, we can stop worrying about accidentally erasing ourselves or creating a paradox by messing with things." Hermione said, "Whatever we change could leave us blindsided to new things that may happen in this future because things are different here in ways that aren't always obvious."
"That's a comfort." he said sarcastically.
"It is, in a way. We know more about where and when we are than we did yesterday," she offered hopefully and Harry smiled. "I count that as a positive."