Chapter 3: A Path to Follow

Harry and Hermione sprinted through the dark corridors of Hogwarts, their breaths coming fast and shallow. The thrill of their success—saving Sirius and Buckbeak—kept them moving, despite Harry's limp from the bite on his ankle. They had done it. The weight of the night, the fear, and the danger began to melt away as they approached the hospital wing. Just as they neared the entrance, their past selves vanished with the Time-Turner, disappearing into the folds of time.

Harry stumbled slightly, his ankle still throbbing with pain, but Hermione was quick to catch him, steadying him before he could fall.

"We made it," she breathed out, her chest heaving from the exertion. "We actually did it."

Harry nodded, his face breaking into a tired but genuine smile. "Yeah... Sirius is safe."

They entered the hospital wing as quietly as they could. The soft glow of the moonlight through the windows bathed the room in a silvery hue, making it feel peaceful, almost serene compared to the chaos they had just been through.

They walked toward their beds, Hermione moving ahead to check on Ron, who was still sound asleep, oblivious to everything that had transpired. Harry watched her for a moment, his heart swelling with gratitude. He approached her and, without thinking too much about it, wrapped her in a tight hug from behind.

"Thank you," he whispered into her ear, his voice raw with emotion. "For helping me save Sirius. For being there."

Hermione stiffened for just a second, but then melted into the hug, leaning her head against his shoulder. "You don't have to thank me, Harry. I'm just glad we got through it."

After a long moment, they pulled apart, but the warmth of their shared connection lingered between them. They stood there, silently looking at each other, before Hermione broke the quiet with a serious expression.

"Your ankle... that bite, Harry. We need to talk about it." Her voice was soft, but her eyes were filled with worry.

Harry hesitated, feeling the weight of her words. His ankle throbbed as a reminder of what had happened, but the idea of acknowledging it felt overwhelming.

"I'll... I'll say it was Ripper," he finally muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. "Marge's dog. I've got that old scar—no one'll question it."

Hermione's brow furrowed, her concern deepening, but she didn't argue. "Alright, but we can't hide it forever. We need a plan, Harry."

"I know." He sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the secret settling on his shoulders. "But for now, we some sleep."

They both climbed into their respective beds, but sleep didn't come easily. For Harry, the pull of slumber eventually took over, and soon he found himself drifting into a dream that felt more real than any he'd ever experienced.

The landscape around him was vast and bathed in moonlight. The trees of the Forbidden Forest towered in the distance, their silhouettes dark against the glowing night sky. Standing at the center of it all was a tall, striking figure. Her auburn hair shimmered like copper under the moon, and her eyes gleamed with the power of the stars above.

Illura, the Werewolf Goddess of the Moon, regarded him with a soft smile. Her voice, though gentle, resonated with ancient power as she spoke.

"Harry," she began, "you have been chosen, not by chance, but by destiny."

Harry took a step forward, feeling both small and significant in her presence. "Chosen for what?" he asked, his voice echoing in the dreamscape.

"To free my children," Illura answered, her tone filled with sorrow and hope. "Werewolves were never meant to be cursed. It was supposed to be a blessing, but that blessing was twisted long ago. You are the one who will break that curse and restore balance."

Harry's mind raced. He had never thought of lycanthropy as anything other than a horrible fate—something to fear. "I'm supposed to help... werewolves?"

"Yes," she said softly, stepping closer to him. "You are their savior, Harry. Follow your instincts; they will guide you to what is right. Never doubt them—they are never wrong."

He swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on him. "I'll do it," he said, determination lacing his voice. "I'll help."

Illura smiled warmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know your mates will be thrilled to have the curse lifted as well."

"Mates?" Harry blinked, feeling the word echo in his mind.

"You will know them when the time is right," she replied cryptically, her voice growing softer, more distant. "Now, Harry, it's time to wake. Seek the one who already knows of your fate."

As the dream faded, her last words lingered in his mind. Then, the world around him dissolved into darkness.

Harry awoke the next morning, his body tense and covered in a light sheen of sweat. He lay still for a moment, trying to make sense of the dream. Illura, the werewolves, the curse... it was a lot to take in. He turned his head slightly and saw Hermione, still asleep, the soft rise and fall of her chest calming his racing thoughts.

She already knew.

The revelation hit him like a ton of bricks. Hermione had figured it out before he had. He sat up slowly, his ankle still aching but his mind racing.

"Hermione," he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open, groggy but alert. "Harry? What's wrong?"

"I need your help," he said, his voice low but urgent. He glanced toward Ron's bed, ensuring they wouldn't be overheard. "I... I'm going to be a werewolf."

Hermione sat up fully now, her eyes widening slightly. "I know," she said quietly, confirming his suspicion.

Harry stared at her, caught off guard. "You... you knew?"

"I suspected after the bite," she admitted, biting her lip. "But I didn't want to say anything until you were ready."

He exhaled sharply, relief and frustration mixing in his chest. "Hermione, I... I don't know how to handle this. How am I supposed to keep it a secret? What do I do when the full moon comes?"

She reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm. "We'll figure it out. Together."

Harry nodded, grateful for her steady presence. "Do you know anything about... Wolfsbane?"

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Yes, but... Wolfsbane isn't what most people think. It doesn't cure the 'disease'—it just corrupts the mind of the inner wolf. Werewolves who take it can control their transformations, but the cost is their sanity. The inner wolf becomes crazed after Wolfsbane is taken, even just once."

Harry frowned. "So... if I don't take it, what happens?"

"You'll have heightened instincts. Strong ones, hard to ignore," she explained, her tone serious. "But... you could still have control if we figure something out. The problem is, no one really knows for sure what happens if someone avoids Wolfsbane entirely."

A heavy silence settled over them. Harry leaned back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. "I don't want to lose control, but I don't want to go mad either."

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. "We'll research it. We'll find a way."

A brief pause hung between them, before Hermione hesitantly asked, "What are you going to do during the full moon in July?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe... maybe I'll just stay at Privet Drive, lock myself away."

Hermione's eyes flashed with determination. "No. That won't work, Harry. I'll... I'll owl my parents. Maybe you can stay with us for the summer."

Harry looked at her, surprised by the offer, but grateful. "You'd really do that for me?"

"Of course," she said firmly. "We're in this together."

The morning passed uneventfully after that conversation. Because Hermione wasn't injured, Madam Pomfrey released her from the hospital wing after breakfast. Harry, however, still had to stay. As promised, Hermione went straight to the Owlery to write to her parents, asking if Harry could stay with them for the summer. She returned to the hospital wing a couple of hours later, determined to spend the day with him.

Hermione pulled a chair beside Harry's bed, and they spent the day together, talking and planning about how to deal with the future, discussing strategies for the full moon, and speculating on what to do about Hogwarts next year. They spoke quietly so as not to wake Ron, who was still recovering from the events of the previous night.

As the day wore on and the sky began to darken outside, Madam Pomfrey approached Hermione. "It's getting late, dear. You need to sleep in your own bed tonight."

Hermione looked like she wanted to argue, but Harry gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine, Hermione."

She hesitated for a moment longer before leaning over and placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "Alright. Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight," he replied softly, watching her leave before letting his eyes close for some much-needed rest.

Later that night, across the castle, a blonde girl sat alone in the Slytherin common room, the flickering firelight casting shadows across her face. Her mind was filled with questions, running over the events of the previous night in her head.

Why were those two out so late? Weren't they supposed to be in the hospital wing?

Her fingers tapped against the armrest of her chair as she pondered. Something wasn't adding up.

In a small, hidden closet deep within the castle, a different blonde girl sat shivering, her bare skin prickling in the night chill. She smiled through the shivers, her eyes gleaming with a strange, knowing light.

"So that's the path we're taking," she whispered to herself. "Looks like I'll be loved in this timeline."

Her smile grew wider as she huddled deeper into the shadows.