28 th June, 1970

Hermione woke up in panic gasping for air, and she had just enough time to turn on her side before throwing up on the floor. Heart pounding wildly in her ribcage, she groaned and fell back against her pillow, blinking at her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was a splitting headache after drinking the Time Potion, and now she was lying in a strange bed, in a room that she did not recognize. Flashes of memories from a life that did not belong to her passed in front of her eyes, and the sudden influx of information was enough to give her another headache. Despite all that, she felt the corners of her mouth rise, and she let out a chuckle.

It had worked. She was back in the past, just like she had intended, and the proof was just in front of her eyes. On the wall in front of her hung a large frame with a photo of a family of a family of five people, including a red-headed girl she had seen many times in Harry's photo album. Two other girls were surrounding her, and Hermione had no doubt that one of them was herself.

Carefully rising from her bed – she would need to clean the evidence of her sickness – she immediately went to the mirror that stood next to a wooden dresser and observed her reflection. The girl that stared back was smaller than she had been at eleven, with well-defined curls instead of unruly hairs and the same blue eyes that she had seen on Harry's aunt. However, the shape of her face was still the same, and she was thrilled to discover that she had also kept the button-shaped nose that she had inherited from her father. Tears gathering in her eyes at the memory of her family, Hermione forced herself to focus on the positive side of her time-travel. She was here to change things, and she would do her best to stop Voldemort from hurting her loved ones, whatever it took. Sniffling snottily, she wiped her nose with a tissue that she found on her bedside table and decided to go hunt for a mop to clean the mess she had made on the floor. Walking confidently towards the door, she opened it resolutely and left the safety of her room behind her.

The corridor was deserted, and Hermione took in her surroundings, easily identifying the different rooms on what looked like the second floor of a two-storey house. She would not find cleaning supplies on that floor, she knew, and she concluded that she would have no choice but to ask someone to help her. There was no name on the doors that surrounded her to tell her which room was Mrs. Dursley's – Petunia, her mind reminded her – so she decided to leave for the kitchen where she knew the adults must already be.

Strange, the way I think of them as adults , she thought. It's like my mind somehow knows I'm a child again.

She followed the sound of voices until she reached the kitchen and stopped in front of the door before opening it slowly. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she glanced into the room shyly and was greeted warmly by a middle-aged man with sandy-hairs reading a newspaper.

"Morning Rose," he said with a smile. "Did you sleep well?"

Hermione froze where she was, barely registering that Rose must be her name before blurting out an answer.

"I was sick, daddy."

"Really?" he asked, and Hermione noticed a hint of an accent in his voice. "Are you feeling better now?"

Hermione nodded quickly, her cheeks bright pink. "Yes, but the floor is dirty."

Mr. Evans raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"That sick? Should we call for the doctor? What do you think, dear?"

A woman Hermione hadn't seen when she had entered the kitchen appeared at her side and put a cool hand against her forehead for a few seconds. She had bright green eyes and dark curly hairs, and Hermione was immediately reminded of Harry.

"Everything seems fine," the woman – Mrs. Evans – said with a soft accent as well. "Should I make you something light to eat? I don't think Petunia's birthday breakfast will agree with you."

"Petunia's birthday?" Hermione echoed with a small voice. "But… but…."

But it should be my birthday! She tried to say, but she broke into tears instead.

"Rose?" Mrs. Evans exclaimed, surprised, before wrapping her tightly in her arms. "What's wrong, darling?"

Everything , Hermione wanted to say, but the only sound that came out of her mouth was a sob, and her cries suddenly intensified. As her vision swarmed with tears once again, Hermione tried to understand what was going on. The instructions on the potion had been extremely clear, and she knew that the dose she and Petunia had drunk should have taken them exactly twenty-eight years back in the past and made them arrive on her birthday. However, if the date had changed, then something else might have changed as well, and it meant that her plans might be at risk.

What if Voldemort decided to start his ascension to power earlier? What if he changed the numbers of Horcruxes he had made? What if… what if the changes affected her as well?

What if she wasn't Magical anymore ?

Petunia felt like she had been sleeping for days when she was suddenly awoken by someone pounding vigorously against a door, and she instantly pushed the covers of her bed away before looking for her pistol. Then, when she realized that it wasn't under her pillow, she whipped her head around and stilled at the sight that greeted her.

She was in her childhood's bedroom.

Slowly, she raised her right hand and pinched the side of her left arm as hard as she could, and a slow, happy smile worked its way across her face when she realized that it wasn't just a dream. She was back! She had been serious when she had accepted the Granger girl's offer, but the only outcome she had really been expecting had been disappointment when they both realized that the potion didn't work, or maybe a stomach ache for a few days because of it. She chuckled at the idea and, feeling better than she had in ages, got up from her bed.

"Tuney!" the bright voice of Lily called from outside, and Petunia suddenly froze where she was. "Tuney, are you awake? Happy birthday!"

It took Petunia a few seconds before she was able to answer, and somehow her brain was able to process the fact that Lily, her Lily , was alive and waiting for her just behind the door of her bedroom.

"Thank you, Lily," she answered, relieved to hear that her voice sounded normal. "I'll come down in a few minutes, don't wait for me!"

She waited until her sister's footsteps faded before sitting sluggishly on her bed and taking a deep breath. It would take her a few days to adjust to the situation, but then who wouldn't feel uncomfortable in her situation? Now that she thought about it, the Granger girl – Rose, her mind helpfully supplied – might be having a hard time adapting to her new environment as well. She'd better hurry to see how she was doing.

Her bedroom was looking exactly as it had in her memories, and she had no problem finding the perfect outfit for the day. Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she went to the hairdresser and glanced at her reflection in the mirror while distractedly searching for her brush. Lost in her thoughts – had her hair really been that long at that age? – she did not pay attention to where her hand was going and knocked her jewellery box, which promptly started to fall. She moved to the side of the table at once but couldn't reach in time, and her stretched hand closed around nothing, making her sigh in annoyance when she heard the item crash on the floor. At that exact moment, the jewellery box shook slightly and, to Petunia's amazement, began to rise slowly until it went back to the hairdresser.

What on Earth? Petunia stared at the jewellery box for a second, feeling uneasy, before shaking her head vigorously. No , she thought, there's no way that I've just done that. She had just travelled back in time, so it was perfectly normal for her brain to need some time to adjust to this new reality, and perfectly plausible that her eyes had been playing her some kind of trick.

And yet…

Petunia looked at the jewellery box pensively, her mind going back to the Granger girl's warning about Time-travel. Things would change with her presence in the past, she had said, what if this was what she had meant? Could it be that, against all odds, Petunia had become Magical ?

Without thinking, she pushed the jewellery box from the hairdresser and she watched, amazed, as the same thing happened once again. This time, Petunia gasped loudly, suddenly feeling excited by what she saw, and she pushed the box two more times, her excitement growing each time she did it. She could have stayed in her room for hours – now that she was sure about her new powers, the possibilities opened to her seemed endless, but the sound of a door being closed loudly brought her back to reality, and she left her room for the kitchen where she knew the whole family must be waiting for her, reminding herself that she would have more time for experimentation later.

As she crossed the hallway, she wondered if her new powers were the only changes brought by the time-travel, or if she should be expecting other developments that she hadn't anticipated at first. Would her parents still be together, like the Granger girl had suggested? Or would it be a bigger change, like the one she had experienced? Could it be possible that her being Magical had been an accident? What if she had taken the Granger girl's Magic? What if she had taken Lily's? No, she suddenly told herself, it wasn't possible. Her memories were still fuzzy, but now that she thought about it, she could clearly picture the three of them playing with their powers.

Feeling shaken by the revelation, Petunia stopped in front of the kitchen door, realization dawning on her. Her new status changed everything. If she was a witch, she would inevitably go to Hogwarts and therefore be involved in the incoming war. As a Muggle, she wouldn't have been able to help the Granger girl a lot but now… Now, the possibilities were nearly endless.

The door suddenly burst open, and a red-headed girl tornado jumped on her, putting an ostentatiously looking package in her hands before smiling brightly at her. Behind her, two adults were standing with a small girl that seemed to have been crying and Petunia froze, her eyes open wide as she took in the scene in front of her eyes. They looked so happy, so alive, and…

This is wrong, Petunia thought, feeling sick. I shouldn't have come back; I can't even see them. I…

"Petunia darling, are you feeling alright?" her mother asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she said, and she promptly threw up on the floor.

Although they had planned a day out for Petunia's birthday, the Evans decided to cancel everything and called a doctor instead. With two of their daughters being suddenly sick, both adults thought it would be wise to stay inside and make sure that the girls in question recovered from their mysterious illness.

Hermione, now reassured that she was still a witch, used the time off to explore her new memories so that she could get to know the Evans family better. It was a strange thing to have past memories from both of her lives, but it was even stranger to discover the feelings that she associated with each member of the family. Hermione Granger had loved both of her parents, enough to alter their memories and send them as far as she could from the war, but their connection had never been as deep as the one she had with her adoptive parents.

To Mr. and Mrs. Evans, their daughters were their world, and the three sisters shared a strong bond, one that had only been reinforced by the discovery that they could all to Magic. A few accidents had made their parents aware of their powers and, while surprised by their unusual talents, the two adults had only made sure that their daughters would not use their powers in public. Not everyone is as tolerant as us, their father had told them and, despite her young age, Rose had known that he was referring to his time in a concentration camp because of his religion.

Mr. Evans' past wasn't a happy one, and Hermione was surprised to see how similar their early lives had been. He too, had been targeted because those in power thought he was a lesser man and he too had survived a genocide and had indelible scars to prove it. He had been mocked, condemned, tortured by Nazis just like she had been by Death Eaters, and this made her feel closer to the man than to Petunia who, despite having been through the same war as Hermione, had never had to endure this.

Mrs. Evans, on the contrary, had been sheltered from the devastations of the war by her relatives, a lower branch of the royal Greek family that had had connections to the Nazi Party. After the war, she and her parents had left Germany for England where, years later, she had met her husband at a party celebrating the tenth anniversary of the end of the war. Somehow, the reserved man with a prosthetic leg had made an impression on the young woman, and she had accepted his proposal a few months later despite the disapproval of her family. As a consequence, the Evans had been shunned from Mrs. Evans' family, but it had not deterred the young couple and, thanks to their hard work, they had recently bought their first house in a well-off neighbourhood not far away from Mr. Evans' workplace.

"Rosie, are you listening to what I'm saying?" an upset-looking Lily asked, interrupting her trail of thoughts, and Hermione realized that her adoptive sister was back in her bedroom.

"I'm sorry, Lily, I was just thinking of a book I read yesterday," Hermione replied, and the red-head shot her a triumphant smile.

"I knew it! That's why you didn't want to come play with us. Promise you'll come next time? It's not the same without you, Rosie," the young girl pouted, and Hermione's heart melted at the sight. Harry had had the exact same expression when he tried to convince her to come fly with him.

"Promise," she said with a smile.

"Good. Now, mummy said that you could come down if you were feeling better. Are you? There's cake for tea, and Petunia is coming down as well so that we can give her her presents."

Lily was literally bouncing up and down, waiting for her answer and visibly impatient to finally get some cake.

"I am," Hermione answered, rising from her bed under her adoptive sister's watchful gaze. "Let's go."

Despite the rough morning, the rest of the day had gone rather well and Petunia was now indulgently listening to Lily's incessant chatter, smiling despite herself. She had missed this, the simplicity of her childhood before Hogwarts, filled with love and laughter. Of course, at the time, she hadn't realized how lucky she was to have all that. She had been blinded by her jealousy of her sister's powers, envious of the attention that their parents had given her after she had received her Hogwarts acceptance letter.

What a fool I was, she thought bitterly. First, Lily, and then her son…

Her hate for the boy had been first fuelled by grief, having lost her parents only a few months before, and then only encouraged by Vernon's behaviour who, knowing how much she had hated her late sister, had taken to punish the boy even harder than she had. Over time, she had convinced herself that it was for the best and that, with enough tenacity, he would become a normal boy.

A normal boy with normal friends, a normal boy with normal behaviour, a normal boy who would not end up caught up in a war that wasn't his and would die at the hands of a monster.

Of course, this was just a bad excuse to make her forget that she had become a monster herself and let her emotions take control over the rest. However, she had been given another chance and she would not waste it. She would make sure that her sister lived to see her son grow up, and she would help kill the monster that had taken her from her family even if she had to give up her own life in the process.

The family had just finished eating dinner when the bell rang, and Petunia saw the Granger girl send a sharp look in her direction. She nodded imperceptibly, suspecting that she knew who the late visitor was as well. Her mother, who was closest to the door, rose from her chair and went to see who it was. Petunia heard her talk to someone for a few minutes before calling for her father.

"Darling, would you mind coming? There's someone I think you should meet." Her voice was polite, almost casual, but Petunia was able to detect a small hint of hesitation that confirmed her theory: the Hogwarts' teacher was there. Her father got up quickly, telling the three of them to stay where they were before leaving the dining room. A few minutes later, her mother came back looking a bit shaken, and she told them that they were to come to the living room where a special guest was waiting for them. The three girls followed her, and Petunia was surprised to discover a very short man sitting in front of her father, wearing a pointy hat and what she remembered were called robes.

Of course, it's not the same one, she thought immediately. It's a year earlier than last time, they must have more than one teacher coming to deliver the letters.

"And here are your three beautiful daughters, wonderful, just wonderful!" the little man chirped happily. "So glad to meet you," he said, shaking their hands turn after turn before sitting back on his sofa. "A delight, really, it's so rare, you see…"

"What's rare?" Lily asked, her curiosity piquing before their mother reprimanded her.

"Lily! What have I told you about not interrupting people?"

"Sorry mummy," the red-headed said, her cheeks pink, and the teacher smiled indulgently.

"Think nothing of it, dear girl, where I come from, curiosity is considered an asset!"

"Where do you come from, then?" Lily asked boldly, encouraged by the man's answer.

"Hogwarts!" the small man said enthusiastically. "I am a professor there and, once a year, some of my colleagues and myself go deliver letters to the students we would like to invite to our school. What's unusual, however, is that I don't have one but three letters today, one for each of you!"

Petunia perked up at that, and she saw that her adoptive sister had done the same.

"Would you like to read them?" the little man asked, and suddenly there were three letters in his hand. Ignoring Lily's shout of surprise, Petunia shared a glance with the Granger girl and, just like she had done this morning during her experimentations, summoned the letter in her hand.

"Tuney!" Lily half-whispered, half-shouted in horror. "You're not supposed to…"

"Your sister did nothing wrong, Miss. Evans," the professor said gently. "On the contrary, and I am pleased to see that she assessed the situation correctly with the few elements that she had in her possession. Why don't you take your letter as well? I'm sure you'll understand what I mean after reading its contents."

Lily accepted the envelope with a puzzled look before tearing it apart to read the letter as quickly as she could. There was a moment of stunned silence, and Petunia did her best not to smirk at the sight of her sister gaping openly at the man in front of her. Then, she broke into a wide grin and jumped from her seat, shouting at the top of her voice.

"I KNEW IT WAS MAGIC! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! Didn't I tell you? Right mummy? Didn't I tell you that it must be magic?"

"You did, darling, and I'm very pleased to see that you were right," their mother said, smiling at her daughter indulgently. "Now, would you please calm down and go back to your seat while your father and I talk to the professor?"

Lily did as she was told, but not before exchanging a glance with Petunia and their adoptive sister, her eyes sparkling with excitement. I knew it! She mouthed one last time, and Petunia saw the Granger girl try to hide her smile at the sight.

"Now, I assume you have a few questions for me?" the professor asked, and their father nodded.

"The first one is a bit obvious: can you prove it?"

"Of course. This is one of the first spells you will learn in Hogwarts," he told Petunia and her sisters as he took his wand from a pocket inside of his robes. "Wingardium Leviosa," he said, and suddenly the table in front of him began to rise from the ground.

"Impressive," her father admitted, and Petunia saw that her mother's eyes had widened slightly. "Well, I believe there's no need for further demonstration, sir, you certainly show the same abilities as our daughters. Now, would you mind telling us how you found us? I'm pretty sure my daughters never performed such tricks in public, and I'm not comfortable with the idea that someone might have been observing our family for years."

From the corner of her eye, Petunia saw Lily blanch a bit before sinking deeper into her seat. The professor, who had pocketed his wand back to his robes, nodded with a smile before answering.

"As you may have already guessed, the wizarding community is more than a dozen people playing tricks with a wand. We have our own Ministry, our own currency and, over the centuries, we've created ways to ensure that the Muggleborns – those not coming from a Magical family – were found. Hogwarts has its own methods, much more efficient than the Ministry's, and this is how I was able to know that all three of your daughters were magical. I assure you, however, that this method is non-invasive, and that no one has been spying on you."

"I'm glad to hear that," her father answered, relaxing slightly. "So, this Hogwarts is a school, but for magical children. What's the difference with a regular one?"

"The subjects that are taught to the students. There are seven core subjects like Charms or Herbology, as well as several electives that are available from year three and above."

This time, it was their mother who spoke, and Petunia saw their father nodding in approval at her question.

"That sounds very interesting but what about more traditional subjects, like maths, science, or even grammar? My daughters are good students, Mr. Flitwick, and I would hate for them to lose their chance at finding a job because their curriculum differs from the regular one."

"I understand your concern, but rest assured that this won't be an issue. Most classes can be seen as an equivalent of what you call the traditional subjects taught to Muggleborns. Arithmancy, for example, requires a good basis in mathematics while Potions could be seen as similar to your chemistry class. However, if you think this won't be enough, you can hire private tutors during the summer to make sure your daughters keep up with their Muggle studies. A few of our students do that, but it's not common. I can put you in contact with their families if you're interested."

"We'll see if that's necessary, then," Petunia's father replied. "You told us you were here to give our daughters an invitation, does that mean that we can refuse to send them to Hogwarts?"

"Of course! However, we highly recommend you doing so, or at least hiring a Magical tutor. A child who is unable to control their powers is a danger to everyone, including themselves. Those incidents do not happen very often, but most of them are deadly."

The seriousness of the professor's tone made Petunia feel uneasy, and she suddenly wondered if something similar could have happened to her family if her nephew hadn't gone to Hogwarts. She banished the thought quickly with a shake of her head, focusing back on the conversation.

"Thank you for your frankness, sir. Now, and I think this will be my last question: you said Hogwarts was a private school, how much does the tuition fee cost? We want to give our daughters the best education available, but there are still limits to the amount of money we can pay for that."

"There is no tuition fee at all!" the professor exclaimed happily. "Our government believes that magical education is important, and the seven years at Hogwarts are entirely funded by a special body commissioned by the Ministry. If your daughters want higher education, however, this will no longer be the case. The only expenses you will have will be for clothes and school supplies that are listed on the letter I have with me."

"That's good to know. Well, I think that's all for me. Darling, anything else?" he asked their mother, who smiled at him before turning towards their guest.

"You mentioned school supplies, Mr. Flitwick, where will we find them? I assume one does not buy magical books anywhere?"

"Indeed. We await your answer to the letter I brought with me before the 31th of July. If you accept our invitation, you will receive a second letter for a gathering in London where you will meet other Muggleborns and a few members of the faculty to do some shopping."

"And this invitation is for all of our daughters?" Petunia's mother inquired. "You said you had three letters, but you also said that the cursus at Hogwarts lasted seven years so I'm guessing that the three of them won't start at the same time."

"Correct," the professor confirmed. "Since your daughters are close in age and all magical, we decided to give all of them their letters, but only your eldest daughter will come to Hogwarts next year. The younger ones will need to wait until they are eleven to start their education there."

"But…" Lily began, but her mother shook her head and she stopped talking.

"Then I only have one last question for you: how do we contact you? I'm pretty sure the Royal Mail won't be able to reach you."

"It would, but it's quicker to send us an owl. One will come to your home every day at 7p.m and wait for your letter until the deadline I mentioned earlier. If you decide not to send your daughters, please let us know as well. Any more questions? No? Then, I will let you enjoy the rest of your evening," he said with a smile. "It was a pleasure to meet you all."

"The feeling is mutual," their father answered, standing up and shaking the man's hand. "If you would please follow me? I'll walk you to the door."

"How are you feeling?" the Granger girl – Rose – asked later, when everyone but them was sleeping. Her adoptive sister had waited until well after midnight to come to her room and climb into her bed, and Petunia had been reminded of a time when Lily had done the same, long before Hogwarts was even mentioned. Unconsciously, she had wrapped her right arm around the little girl and drawn her closer, smiling when she had felt her melt against her side.

"Strange," Petunia answered after a moment's thought. "For years, I wished that I could go back in time and, now that I'm here, I feel completely lost. I was a Muggle, and now I'm a witch; I was an adult, and now I'm a child. I was in a war, alone, and now my family is here, whole and alive, with no clue of what is about to happen to them or what I've been through. What about you?"

She'd seen the redness of the girl's eyes, the quiet tears left unshed, the pained look crossing her face when she thought no one was looking; and she knew how hard it must be for her too, to grieve for a family that she might never see again, for friends that may never live because of her presence in this new reality, for a life she craved for but would never have.

"Strange as well. They're not my family, and yet I love them so much already that it hurts to remember that I was not theirs first. And I'm frankly terrified at the idea that I might lose them too, I don't think I can live through that again."

"You won't," Petunia told her, feeling determined. "You won't because I won't let that happen, and neither will you. You came back with a plan to stop the Unnamed before it is too late, and I'll be there to make sure that you do just that."

"Promise?" she heard her ask in a small voice, and Petunia wrapped her arm even more tightly against her.

"Promise."