The echo of Hermione's slap reverberated through the open air as they walked back from Care of Magical Creatures. The path was lined with trees, their leaves stirring gently in the breeze, but the air between her and Draco Malfoy crackled with tension. Her hand still stung from the impact, but she didn't regret it. Not after all the vile things he had said about Hagrid and Buckbeak.
"Bloody hell, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed. "That was wicked."
Malfoy stood frozen, his pale face quickly turning red with rage. Crabbe and Goyle, his ever-present shadows, shifted uncomfortably behind him, unsure whether to act.
"You'll pay for that, Granger," Draco spat, his hand shooting for his wand.
Hermione instinctively reached for hers, heart pounding. "Malfoy, don't you da—"
But she didn't get the chance to finish. Malfoy's hex came too fast, a streak of red light racing toward her, colliding with something Harry had sent the Slytherin's way, veering it slightly off course, but not enough. She had no time to react as the spell didn't hit her directly—it collided with something else.
The Time-Turner.
The golden chain snapped from around her neck with a sharp, metallic clink. The tiny hourglass spun wildly in the air under her shirt, glowing brighter and brighter as it absorbed the energy from Draco's curse. For a split second, everything slowed. Hermione's eyes widened in horror as she reached out, but it was too late.
The world lurched violently, the ground falling away from beneath her feet. The trees, the path, and even Malfoy's startled face dissolved into a blur of colours and light. Hermione felt an invisible force pull her away, as though time itself had wrapped around her and yanked her from the present, Harry and Ron's startled yell barely registering in her consciousness. The sensation was dizzying, and her stomach flipped as the very fabric of reality twisted around her.
The Time-Turner was spinning out of control.
Wind roared in her ears, and the once-familiar Hogwarts grounds dissolved into chaos. Her body felt weightless as if she were floating through a tunnel of light and shadow. Her mind swam, struggling to grasp what was happening. She had used the Time-Turner countless times, but never like this—never with such violent, unrestrained magic.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.
Hermione collapsed onto cold, damp grass. Her head swam, and her heart pounded in her chest as she gasped for breath. For several moments, she remained on her hands and knees, her vision spinning, trying to piece together what had just happened. She felt dizzy, as if every particle of her body had been shaken loose and hastily put back together.
The Time-Turner was broken. That much she could tell. The once-glowing golden hourglass now lay shattered beside her, its delicate glass in fragments, the sand within scattered around it. Panic flared in her chest as she reached for it, clutching the remains of the device as if by some miracle it could still work.
"No, no, no…" she whispered, her hands trembling. She inspected the broken chain, the twisted gears. There was no way to fix it—not without proper equipment, not without help. But whose help? The Department of Mysteries that had lent her the device would surely go into a tizzy if they ever found out about this.
Hermione slowly rose to her feet, trying to steady her breaths. She was outside, that much was clear. A warm breeze stirred the night air, and she realised she was standing on the grounds of Hogwarts, but something felt… off.
The castle loomed ahead, dark and imposing against the star-strewn sky. But the faint sounds of student chatter and movement—sounds that had become so familiar to her—were absent. It was eerily quiet, save for the rustling of leaves in the wind.
She took a few tentative steps, still clutching the broken Time-Turner. Her heart pounded in her chest as she scanned the grounds. There were no signs of other students, no lights from the Gryffindor Tower. An overwhelming sense of unease crept over her.
It was the same Hogwarts, but… not.
"What have I done?" she whispered, her breath catching in her throat. Her mind raced, trying to calculate the potential damage. The Time-Turner had been hit by a spell, sent spinning out of control. But how far back had it thrown her? Days? Months?
She looked at the castle again, her eyes narrowing. The shape of the building was unmistakable, but something about it felt older, somehow different. She couldn't place why.
"Think, Hermione," she muttered, forcing her mind into problem-solving mode despite the rising panic. "How far back could I have gone?"
Her thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of footsteps—deliberate, slow, and coming closer. Hermione's pulse quickened. She turned toward the sound, her hand instinctively reaching for her wand.
Out of the shadows, an unmistakable figure appeared—tall, with long, silver hair flowing behind him. The familiar half-moon spectacles gleamed in the dim light.
Dumbledore.
Only… younger. Not by much, but just enough for Hermione to notice. His robes swayed gently in the breeze, and his half-moon spectacles glinted in the moonlight as he looked at her with that characteristic mixture of curiosity and understanding. As he gazed at her, however, Hermione felt something odd—almost like a gentle intrusion in her mind, as though her thoughts were no longer entirely her own.
"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, his voice soft but knowing. His eyes sparkled with intrigue, though his expression remained calm. "I daresay you've found yourself in a rather… unexpected situation."
Hermione blinked, her heart skipping a beat. How does he know my name? The question lodged itself in her mind, unspoken but loud, as the subtle sensation of intrusion lingered.
Dumbledore, noticing her bewilderment, smiled gently. "Please excuse this old coot, but given the rather intense intrusion on Hogwarts' wards, I had to make sure you are not a threat. I used Legilimency on you."
Legilimency—Hermione had never heard the term before, but from the context, it seemed clear enough. Mind-reading. A fresh wave of unease crept through her. Of course, Dumbledore would have the ability to read minds, but knowing that didn't make the experience any less unsettling. She vowed silently to find out if there was a way to protect her mind from such intrusions. She nearly jumped when Dumbledore chuckled softly.
"Yes, it is called Occlumency," he said, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and empathy.
Hermione frowned, very put out that he was still in her mind, no matter how much she respected him. The realisation made her feel vulnerable, and her mind spun with questions. This, she thought with a growing sense of clarity, must explain how Dumbledore always seemed to know when she, Harry, and Ron were up to something.
But then, the thought of her friends—Harry, Ron, and the danger surrounding them—hit her like a punch to the gut. Her friends. The future.
She felt a wave of anguish as she thought of Harry. Sirius Black was still at large, believed to be hunting Harry, and now Hermione was no longer there to help. How will they manage without me? The weight of not knowing gnawed at her, twisting her insides. She had left her best friends behind at the end of a school year already fraught with danger.
"What's today's date?" she asked, her voice tight, betraying her sudden desperation.
Dumbledore paused, his expression gentle but cautious. "July 4th, 1974."
Hermione's stomach lurched. School wasn't in session—of course, that explained the quiet, the dark windows, and the eerie lack of students. But that wasn't what gnawed at her insides. 1974.
She glanced upwards at the sky, her eyes finding the full moon hanging like a silver coin high above the castle. Instinctively, her thoughts turned to Professor Lupin. Wherever he was in this time, tonight was a transformation night. The thought was unsettling in its familiarity, but also distant. Too distant.
And then, as if pieces of a puzzle were slowly aligning in her mind, she realised something else. The full moon. It had been the full moon—or would have been, in a few hours—before Malfoy's hex hit her Time-Turner. A coincidence? Or had the moon, with its magical significance, somehow contributed to this disaster?
She looked down at the broken Time-Turner in her hand. Its delicate hourglass, cracked beyond repair, gleamed faintly in the moonlight. She was stuck.
Hermione's knees nearly buckled as the full weight of the situation crashed down on her. Twenty years? She had expected hours or days, perhaps a few months, but this—this was unfathomable.
Her mouth went dry, her thoughts spinning uncontrollably. She was trapped, twenty years in the past, with no way known to her how to fix the Time-Turner. No way to get back. No way to return to her friends.
"I… I can't be stuck here," she whispered, more to herself than to Dumbledore. Panic began to rise in her chest, a cold, suffocating sensation. Her mind darted to the future, to Harry and Ron—everything she had left behind. I have to get back.
Dumbledore's expression softened, and he stepped closer, his presence somehow both comforting and formidable. "Time is a delicate thing, Miss Granger. It's best not to meddle with it too hastily. For now, I believe it is safest for you to remain where you are."
The weight of his words settled heavily on her shoulders. There was no quick fix. No immediate way out.
"What… what do I do?" she asked, her voice barely audible, her breath catching as the realisation of her situation became more and more real.
Dumbledore smiled faintly, his gaze steady and reassuring. "For now, you will need a new identity. The past must not know you as Hermione Granger. That could complicate things… immensely."
His gaze shifted toward the looming silhouette of the castle in the distance. The Hogwarts of 1974, a place both familiar and unfamiliar. "Come, Miss Granger. I believe we have much to discuss."
Hermione followed Dumbledore up the familiar spiral staircase leading to his office. Despite the circumstances, it was comforting to be back in Hogwarts—even if it wasn't quite the Hogwarts she knew. The quiet halls were unsettling, and the weight of her predicament pressed heavily on her mind.
Once they reached the office, Dumbledore gestured for her to sit in one of the plush chairs opposite his desk. Without saying a word, he raised his wand, and a silver phoenix burst from the tip, its wings shimmering as it darted through the room and out the window.
"A Patronus," Hermione murmured, her brows knitting together in confusion. "Who did you—?"
"I've asked Molly Weasley if she and Arthur could visit us tonight," Dumbledore said, his tone calm as ever. "I suspect you will feel more at ease with familiar faces around."
Hermione blinked in surprise. Molly Weasley? But the realisation that she would soon see someone she knew brought a wave of mixed relief and confusion. But isn't that a bad idea?
"I'm… grateful, Professor," she began slowly, "but won't that… you know, mess things up? Won't interacting with people I know from the future disrupt the timeline?"
Dumbledore smiled softly, his eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. "Time, Miss Granger, has a curious way of correcting itself, so long as one doesn't try too hard to meddle with it."
Hermione bristled slightly at his words. "But I was given strict instructions not to be seen when I used the Time-Turner in my third year. Professor McGonagall told me how dangerous it could be."
"Ah, yes," Dumbledore mused, nodding slightly. "But you see, Miss Granger, you do not exist in this time yet. There is no way for you to meet your past self at the moment. Therefore, I believe we can ignore that tidbit of caution for now. After all, you cannot very well live in isolation for the next twenty years."
His tone was light, but Hermione felt the weight of his words. Twenty years. The idea of being stuck here for so long made her chest tighten anew. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her thoughts. Dumbledore was right, though—Hogwarts, as much as she loved it, was no place for a thirteen-year-old to live alone.
"Now," Dumbledore continued, his gaze falling upon the broken Time-Turner still clutched in her hand, "I suspect we will need to make some arrangements. But before we do that, might I ask about this—" he nodded toward the Time-Turner, "and why you were in possession of it?"
Hermione hesitated. She didn't see any reason not to tell him—after all, Dumbledore had been the one who approved her Time-Turner use in the first place, hadn't he? Still, part of her was confused as to why he hadn't just plucked that information from her mind during his earlier Legilimency. She decided to share anyway.
"I was using it to take extra classes," she explained, the words sounding almost ridiculous now, given the situation. "There were so many subjects I wanted to study, but I couldn't fit them all in my schedule, so the Ministry approved it… with very strict instructions not to be seen, of course."
She faltered briefly, her gaze drifting to Dumbledore as she privately thought, You could have learned all of that with one look into my mind, couldn't you? Though she was relieved to note that ever since they had begun walking back to the castle, she could no longer feel that strange, subtle pressure in her mind. Dumbledore hadn't intruded again, and for that, she was grateful.
But her frustration remained, and before she could stop herself, she added with a slightly snippy tone, "You didn't really need to ask, did you? Given your earlier... method of information-gathering."
Dumbledore didn't seem the least bit fazed by her remark. He merely smiled, his eyes twinkling with that same infuriating mix of wisdom and humour. "There is much to be learned from conversation, Miss Granger. Far more than merely extracting facts from a person's mind."
Hermione flushed slightly, biting her lip. It wasn't that she didn't respect or admire Dumbledore—she did, immensely—but the idea of anyone, even him, casually looking into her mind without her consent… it was unnerving.
Still, she couldn't deny that Dumbledore's calm presence was grounding. He hadn't pressed her for anything more, hadn't delved into her thoughts again, and for that, she felt an odd sense of trust. However complicated this situation was, at least she wasn't alone in it.
Dumbledore's voice gently interrupted her thoughts. "How did it come to be broken?" he asked, nodding toward the shattered Time-Turner in her hand.
Hermione hesitated for a moment before answering. "A boy... Draco Malfoy... hexed me, but it accidentally hit the Time-Turner. I don't know why it reacted the way it did."
"Draco Malfoy," Dumbledore repeated thoughtfully. "Perhaps Lucius Malfoy's son?"
"Yes," Hermione confirmed, a touch of bitterness creeping into her voice. "He is not a student still, is he?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Lucius Malfoy graduated last year. I presume you were not on friendly terms with their family?"
Hermione scoffed. "Definitely not. Draco is a spoiled brat, and his father is a dark wizard, entrenched in blood prejudice. I'd be the last person they would want to be friendly with."
Dumbledore didn't seem surprised by this revelation. He merely nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I see," he said quietly, understanding the implications of Hermione's words without pressing further.
Hermione clenched her jaw for a moment, her mind flickering with images of Draco's sneering face, his casual cruelty, and the tension that had followed them through every year at Hogwarts. The idea that she had been thrown into this situation because of him made her stomach twist with frustration.
As if sensing her thoughts, Dumbledore's gaze softened. "It is unfortunate that such an incident has brought you here, Miss Granger, but I trust you will find a way to make the best of it."
"Is there any way to fix it?" Hermione asked, her voice tinged with half-hope. She knew it was probably a futile question, but she couldn't stop herself from asking. The thought of being stuck here, with no way back to her friends and her time, was suffocating.
Dumbledore's expression grew serious, though still kind. "I'm afraid, Miss Granger, even if we could fix it, Time-Turners are designed to take you backwards, not forward."
Hermione's heart sank. She had hoped for some loophole, some rare magic that Dumbledore—of all people—might know, but it seemed even his vast knowledge had limits when it came to time. The finality of his words left her feeling hollow.
"So I really am stuck here…" she murmured, more to herself than to Dumbledore.
"For now, yes," Dumbledore said gently. "But remember, Miss Granger, time is not something we can rush, nor is it entirely predictable. We must tread carefully with it, but I believe you will find purpose even here, in this unfamiliar past."
The words offered little comfort, but Hermione nodded all the same. Her logical mind told her that Dumbledore was right, yet the overwhelming sense of isolation from everything she had known gnawed at her. She was stranded in the past, with no easy way back to Harry, Ron, and the life she had left behind.
Just then, there was a knock at the door, and it opened to reveal Molly and Arthur Weasley. Molly bustled in, her warm presence immediately filling the room.
"Sorry, we came as fast as we could," she began, her voice quick and full of energy, "but we had to get someone to watch Bill and Charlie, and only Pandora could do it on such short notice. We'd better hurry back."
She turned then, her eyes landing on Hermione sitting in the chair before Dumbledore's desk. Her rattling explanation faltered, and her expression softened.
"Well, hello there, dear," Molly said kindly, offering Hermione a warm smile. Her gaze then flicked up toward Dumbledore, clearly curious about the situation but not pushing for an explanation right away.
Dumbledore, always composed, gestured toward both Molly and Arthur. "Best if you both sit down," he suggested, conjuring a third chair with a flick of his wand so that everyone could be seated. The new chair appeared beside Hermione, and Molly and Arthur quickly took their seats, exchanging brief glances of curiosity.
Hermione sat stiffly, unsure of what to say or do. Seeing Molly and Arthur was both a comfort and a strange reminder of how different things were in this time. They looked a lot younger—only in their mid-twenties—with only two small children out of the seven they would eventually have. Bill and Charlie, she remembered, must be very young. Four and two, or perhaps even younger.
As they all settled in, Dumbledore turned his attention to the Weasleys. "Thank you for coming so quickly. I imagine this situation will require some explanation, but rest assured, it is rather unique."
Molly gave a slight nod, concern flashing in her eyes. "Of course, Headmaster. What's going on?"
Dumbledore glanced at Hermione, silently asking her if she was comfortable with them knowing. Hermione, feeling overwhelmed but trusting Dumbledore's judgement, gave a small nod. The truth of her situation needed to be shared if she was going to find any sort of stability here.
Taking her cue, Dumbledore spoke in his usual calm manner. "This is Miss Hermione Granger, and she has found herself somewhat... displaced. Through an unfortunate accident, she has travelled back in time—about twenty years, to be precise."
Both Molly and Arthur blinked in surprise. Molly's hand flew to her mouth, while Arthur leaned forward slightly, intrigued. "Goodness," Molly breathed, glancing at Hermione again, now with a look of deep sympathy. "You poor thing."
Arthur, though equally surprised, smiled warmly at Hermione. "Quite an extraordinary thing, time travel. But I can't imagine how difficult it must be for you, being away from your own time."
Hermione managed a weak smile, appreciating the kindness in their eyes. "It's… overwhelming," she admitted softly. "But I don't have any other choice right now."
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Indeed, Miss Granger will need a place to stay, as Hogwarts is not suited for a young girl to live alone in the long term."
Molly immediately perked up, her maternal instincts kicking in. "She's welcome to stay with us, of course! It wouldn't be any trouble at all."
Arthur nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. You'd be more than welcome in our home."
Hermione's heart lifted a little at the offer. The Weasleys' kindness and warmth were just as strong now as they were in the future. "Thank you," she said, her voice small but sincere. "That's very kind of you."
Dumbledore smiled at the offer, clearly pleased with the solution. "Excellent. I believe that arrangement will be most suitable for the time being. However, Miss Granger will need a new identity while she is here. It wouldn't do for anyone to know that she comes from the future."
Molly, ever practical, nodded firmly. "Yes, of course. We'll need to think of something that won't draw too much attention."
Hermione felt a strange mix of relief and apprehension. She was grateful that she wouldn't be alone, but the thought of hiding her true identity, even from people she trusted, made her uneasy. It was a necessity, though, and she knew that. If she was to navigate this new world, she would have to take on a different life—at least until she could figure out a way home.
Dumbledore leaned back slightly in his chair, his eyes twinkling once again. "I have a suggestion. I do believe you have a second cousin, Molly—Andrew Prewett, right? Would it be out of the realm of possibility that he would go along with having a younger sister his parents have kept secret up until now? Homeschooled?"
Molly blinked, her face lighting up in recognition. "Andrew? Yes, of course! He'd certainly have a laugh about pulling one over everyone. With so many cousins in the family, I don't think anyone would bat an eye about another one popping up seemingly out of nowhere." She smiled warmly at Hermione, adding, "It's a good fit. No one would question it."
Dumbledore nodded in approval. "Excellent. I believe Andrew's parents recently passed away, which would provide a reasonable explanation for why Hermione is now joining formal education. I'll submit the necessary paperwork to the Ministry if you don't mind, Molly."
Molly waved a hand dismissively. "Of course, Headmaster. Whatever needs doing."
Hermione, still processing all of this, found herself nodding in agreement. "Hermione Prewett…" she said softly, testing the name once again. It felt strange but somewhat comforting to know she now had a solid identity to fall back on.
"Well, then," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands softly together, "with that settled, I trust that this arrangement will allow Miss Granger to navigate this unfamiliar time with the support she needs."
Molly beamed at Hermione, her maternal warmth shining through. "We'll make sure you're well taken care of, dear. It's a lot to take in, but we'll help you through it."
Arthur nodded in agreement. "You'll be family in no time."
