The meeting with Dumbledore had left Hermione feeling a whirlwind of emotions—relief at having somewhere safe to stay, gratitude for the Weasleys' kindness, and a lingering sense of displacement from her own time. As they reached the gates of Hogwarts, Molly offered her arm with a reassuring smile.
"Have you ever Side-Along Apparated before, dear?" Molly asked, her brow creased with concern as she watched Hermione's uncertain expression.
Hermione shook her head. "No, I haven't. I've read about it, but I've never done it myself."
Molly smiled warmly. "It's perfectly safe. Just hold on tightly, and try not to think about it too much. It can be a bit uncomfortable the first time, but you'll get used to it. It gets easier the more you do it."
Hermione nodded, though she wasn't entirely reassured. Apparition was something she'd learned about theoretically, but now that it was about to happen, her nerves buzzed with anticipation.
"Ready?" Molly asked, offering her arm.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione grasped Molly's arm, and before she could prepare herself, there was a sudden, violent squeezing sensation, as though the air itself had pressed in on her from all directions. She barely had time to gasp before it was over, her feet hitting solid ground again with a jolt near Ottery St. Catchpole.
Hermione stumbled slightly, feeling an unpleasant lurch in her stomach, and swallowed hard to keep from feeling sick.
Molly steadied her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "A bit much on the first go, isn't it? Don't worry, it'll pass. You'll get used to it soon enough."
Hermione nodded, still feeling slightly queasy, but appreciating Molly's calm reassurance. "It's… different," she admitted, trying to shake off the lingering dizziness.
"Just take a few deep breaths," Molly said kindly. "You'll feel better in no time."
Hermione did as she was told, and soon enough, the queasiness began to subside. It wasn't long before her attention shifted to the sight in front of her: the Burrow. The familiar sight of the crooked, ramshackle house immediately brought a wave of nostalgia—though it wasn't quite the house Hermione remembered.
The Burrow in this time was… smaller. Much smaller. At first glance, it looked almost like an ordinary house, with barely any of the towering extensions that she knew would eventually rise into the sky, defying gravity and logic. There was just one modest extension added to the back, which Hermione suspected might be the beginning of the many rooms that would be built on top of one another as the Weasley family grew.
They must have always added rooms when a new child was born, she mused, with magic keeping the whole thing from toppling over.
Molly led her through the gate, the air filled with the familiar countryside smells of grass and earth. The sight of the house in its younger state was almost surreal to Hermione. She could almost hear the laughter of the future Weasley children, their bickering, and the noise of a full house—but now, it was quiet, peaceful even. Only Bill and Charlie lived here, and they were still just little boys.
As they approached the front door, Molly glanced over at Hermione, her brow furrowing slightly in curiosity. "Have you been here before?"
Hermione's heart skipped a beat. Of course, she couldn't say yes, even though the Burrow felt like a second home in her own time. It would raise too many questions she didn't quite want to get into at the moment. She shook her head. "No… it just feels familiar somehow."
Molly gave her a kind smile but didn't press further. "Well, we'll make it home for you while you're with us."
As they entered the house, Hermione was immediately enveloped by the familiar warmth of the Burrow. The smell of freshly baked bread lingered in the air, and the sitting room was cosy and welcoming, though with less clutter than she remembered. It wasn't filled with the objects accumulated from raising seven children, and there was a sense of openness in the space.
"You can put your things down for now," Molly said, gesturing to a spot near the sofa, even though she basically only had the uniform and robes on her back, plus her school bag with whatever books she had in there at the time of the slap. "I'll show you to the guest room later. It's small, but it's yours for as long as you need."
"Thank you, Mrs Weasley," Hermione said, her voice quiet but sincere.
Molly's brow furrowed slightly, and she waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, none of that 'Mrs Weasley' business, dear. Call me Molly! I'm not that old, after all." She gave Hermione a warm smile, her youthful face full of kindness.
Hermione flushed slightly. "Right. Molly. Thank you."
Molly chuckled and turned toward the kitchen, her hands busying themselves with cleaning up a few dishes. "Now, I'm afraid Bill and Charlie are already fast asleep. It's been a long day for them, but you'll meet them soon enough."
Hermione nodded, trying to absorb the reality that Bill and Charlie were still small children at this point. It was hard to imagine them as anything other than the grown, accomplished men she knew, wrestling with curses, wards, and dragons on the daily.
Just then, a soft voice came from the other room. "Molly? Is everything all right?"
Hermione turned to see a striking young woman with long, flowing blond hair enter the sitting room. Her eyes, bright, blue and inquisitive, immediately caught Hermione's attention.
"Pandora, dear, come meet Hermione," Molly said warmly, ushering the girl over. "This is Pandora Ollivander, Bill and Charlie's babysitter for the evening. She lives nearby and was kind enough to stay while Arthur and I went to Hogwarts."
Pandora approached with a gentle smile, her movements graceful and serene. Hermione's breath hitched slightly as she recognised the uncanny resemblance to someone she knew in her own time—Luna Lovegood. There was no mistaking the same ethereal quality, the dreamy air about her that made her seem both present and distant at the same time.
"Hello," Pandora said softly, her voice soothing. "It's nice to meet you, Hermione."
Hermione nodded, trying to keep her composure, though her mind was racing. Pandora Ollivander. Later Lovegood. Luna's mother.
"Thank you for looking after Bill and Charlie," Hermione said, her voice a little unsteady.
Pandora's eyes twinkled as she studied Hermione. There was something in her gaze that made Hermione feel as though she were seeing right through her, as though Pandora knew far more than she was letting on.
"You're welcome," Pandora replied. Her smile softened as she added, "It must be strange, being so far from your own time."
Hermione's breath caught in her throat. How could she possibly know? But Pandora simply patted her shoulder gently, her touch comforting rather than alarming.
"Don't worry," Pandora said softly, her eyes still twinkling with a knowing look. "Your secret is safe with me. I won't tell anyone."
Hermione's heart raced. Pandora had known—immediately. Hermione didn't even know how to respond, but Pandora's calmness and certainty in the moment left her speechless. Divination had always seemed like nonsense to her, and she thought of Professor Trelawney as a fraud. But standing here, face-to-face with Pandora, Hermione couldn't deny the possibility that some people really did have the Sight.
With a final pat on Hermione's shoulder, Pandora turned to Molly. "I'll be off then, Molly. Xenophilius is waiting for me."
"Thank you again, Pandora," Molly called as the young woman made her way to the door. "Give Xeno our best!"
Pandora nodded, her long blond hair swaying as she stepped outside, leaving Hermione standing in the middle of the Burrow, still processing what had just happened. Belatedly, she realised the older girl had been barefoot.
"Such a strange girl, but kind-hearted," Molly remarked, shaking her head with a fond smile as Pandora left. She then turned her attention back to Hermione, her eyes bright with purpose. "Anyhow, we should probably get together a list of things you'll need. I still have some of my clothes from my teenage years; we can look through those and see if anything catches your fancy."
Hermione nodded, still feeling the strange weight of Pandora's earlier words, but grateful for Molly's practicality.
"I assume you have a wand, right?" Molly asked, her eyes briefly glancing at Hermione's bag on the couch.
"Yes, I do," Hermione confirmed quickly.
"Good, good," Molly replied, clearly relieved. "Books we can get second-hand, but wands… well, replacing one wouldn't be optimal. Glad we can avoid that expense."
Hermione flushed slightly, guilt creeping up her spine. She knew that the Weasleys weren't exactly well-off, even in her own time, and she felt a twinge of discomfort at the thought of being an extra burden. The thought of relying on them, knowing their financial situation, made her stomach churn. She didn't want to take advantage of their kindness.
"I can try to find some kind of work in the village, newspaper delivery, shop assistant…" Hermione blurted out, her voice a little rushed, "or something, to help cover the cost of my things."
At that, Arthur perked up, his curiosity clearly piqued. "Oh, so you're Muggleborn then?" he asked, his tone full of interest. He glanced at Molly before turning back to Hermione, his fascination unmistakable. "The village is Muggle, you know. Lots of interesting things there."
Hermione smiled awkwardly, suddenly reminded of Arthur's famous curiosity for all things Muggle. She could practically see the wheels turning in his mind, already thinking about all the questions he might ask her.
"Uhm, yes, sir," she answered politely, suddenly feeling a little more self-conscious. "I grew up in a Muggle household."
Arthur's eyes lit up, but before he could launch into any questions about Muggle technology or customs, Molly gently placed a hand on his arm. "Let's not overwhelm her, Arthur," she said with a chuckle.
Arthur blinked, then gave Hermione a sheepish smile. "Of course, of course. Sorry about that. And do call me Arthur."
Hermione smiled back, feeling a little more at ease. Despite everything, the Weasleys' warmth was something she had always appreciated, and it was no different now.
Molly turned back to her, giving her a thoughtful look. "As for work, dear, there's no need to worry about that right now. Let's focus on getting you settled first. But if you're looking to keep yourself busy, I'm sure we can find something for you to help with around here."
Hermione nodded, appreciating the offer, but the guilt still lingered. She didn't want to be a burden, especially knowing how hard the Weasleys worked to provide for their family. But for now, she decided to take Molly's advice and focus on adjusting to her new life in this time.
"Thank you, Molly," Hermione said softly. "I really appreciate everything you and Arthur are doing for me."
Molly's eyes softened as she smiled warmly. "You're part of the family now, Hermione. We look after each other, no matter what."
The next day at the Burrow was a whirlwind of activity. Hermione awoke to the sounds of laughter and tiny footsteps running through the house. After washing up and heading downstairs, she was greeted by the sight of two young boys, full of energy and mischief.
Bill, at three and a half years old, was a bundle of curiosity, his bright red hair tousled and wild as he dashed around the kitchen. He was already showing signs of the adventurous spirit that would one day lead him to become a curse-breaker. Charlie, barely a year and a half old, toddled after his older brother, his chubby fingers clutching a wooden toy dragon as he babbled in toddler gibberish.
The sight of them made Hermione's heart swell. She hadn't expected to feel so instantly drawn to the two boys, but there was something about their innocent exuberance that melted her.
"Boys, say hello to Hermione," Molly prompted, ushering them toward the kitchen table where breakfast was already laid out.
Bill approached first, his eyes wide with curiosity. "Hello," he said, somewhat shyly but with a mischievous glint in his eye. Charlie followed suit, waving his toy dragon in the air as if it were flying.
Hermione crouched down to their level, offering them a warm smile. "Hello! It's nice to meet you both."
Bill, always eager to show off his big brother role, nudged Charlie forward. "Charlie says hi too."
Charlie giggled, holding out the dragon for Hermione to see. "D'gon!"
Hermione laughed softly, reaching out to admire the toy. "Wow, a dragon! That's very cool, Charlie."
Over breakfast, she couldn't help but smile at the lively chatter of the Weasley family. Arthur was gently teasing Molly about the state of their old clock, which was missing a hand, while Bill kept trying to sneak pieces of toast off his mother's plate. It was chaotic, yes, but also comforting.
As the meal wound down, Hermione, feeling more at ease in the Weasley household, turned to Molly. "If you and Arthur ever want some time for yourselves, I'd be happy to babysit Bill and Charlie," she offered, hoping this could be her way of contributing.
Molly's eyes softened, clearly touched by the offer. "That's very kind of you, Hermione. We might just take you up on that someday."
Hermione smiled. It was the least she could do, especially since the Weasleys weren't allowing her to 'earn her keep' in the usual sense. Helping out with the boys felt like a small way to give back to the family that had taken her in so selflessly.
Later that morning, Hermione found herself in the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. The street was alive with witches and wizards hurrying about their errands, and though Hermione had visited the alley countless times in her own time, being here now—twenty years in the past—felt surreal.
After a few stops to gather supplies, Molly had insisted they stop by Madam Malkin's to pick up some clothes. "You need at least a couple of newer outfits, dear," Molly had said firmly, though Hermione had been more than content with wearing Molly's old clothes.
They had just stepped out of Madam Malkin's when it happened.
Hermione, lost in her thoughts as she adjusted the bag in her hand, wasn't paying attention as someone rushed past her. She stumbled back, nearly losing her balance.
A hand shot out and caught her by the elbow with startling reflexes, preventing her from falling. "Oh, sorry! Didn't mean to knock you over."
Hermione looked up, her breath catching in her throat.
For a moment, Hermione's world narrowed as she stared into the face of a boy around her age, who could have been the splitting image of Harry—except for the eyes. These were hazel, not the familiar emerald green of her best friend. James Potter.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she almost—almost—blurted out Harry's name. But she caught herself just in time, keeping her mouth clamped shut.
James, still holding her arm to steady her, smiled apologetically. "You all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine," Hermione managed, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her chest.
Molly, noticing the interaction, smiled warmly. "Ah, James! Good to see you. How are your parents?"
James grinned. "They're doing well, thank you, Mrs Weasley."
Hermione was introduced as "Hermione Prewett, Molly's second cousin." James frowned slightly, a curious expression crossing his face.
"James Potter, nice to meet you... Prewett, huh? I don't remember seeing you at Hogwarts," he said, his tone light but curious.
Hermione's heart raced, but she stuck to the story they'd prepared. "I was homeschooled until recently," she explained, grateful for the full backstory Dumbledore and Molly had worked out for her. "I'll be starting at Hogwarts in September. In fourth year."
James's expression softened as Molly chimed in, adding that Hermione's parents had recently passed away and that she was now in Molly's care. The sympathy in James's eyes was genuine, and Hermione felt a pang of relief that he hadn't pressed further.
"I'm sorry to hear that," James said quietly, his earlier playfulness replaced with genuine concern. "It must be hard, everything changing like that."
Hermione nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. "It's… been an adjustment."
Before she could say anything more, another voice called out, breaking the tension. "Oi, Jamesie! Rescuing damsels in distress again?"
Hermione turned, and her breath caught in her throat. Her gaze landed on a second boy, younger than she'd ever seen him, but still unmistakable with those grey eyes, effortless aristocratic look his shoulder length black hair provided. Sirius Black.
Hermione immediately stiffened, her body going rigid as she stared at him. Her heart raced, and for a split second, she had to remind herself that this was not the Sirius Black she knew from the wanted posters—gaunt, hollow-eyed, and broken by Azkaban. This was a fourteen-year-old boy, carefree and full of life, his dark hair falling messily into his face as he turned to grin mischievously at James.
Despite her logical mind telling her otherwise, Hermione's pulse quickened, and she felt a wave of unease sweep over her. This Sirius hadn't done anything yet. He hadn't betrayed James. He hadn't killed Peter. He hadn't gone to Azkaban. But that knowledge didn't stop the knot of anxiety tightening in her chest.
Sirius, oblivious to her internal struggle, flashed a playful grin at James. "Always the hero, eh?"
James rolled his eyes but grinned, clearly used to Sirius's antics. "Shut it, Sirius. Please don't mind this prat. His name is Sirius Black."
Hermione, still trying to calm her nerves, smiled faintly, forcing herself to remember that this Sirius—this fourteen-year-old—wasn't the man she knew of from her time. He hadn't yet committed the horrors that would eventually twist his life. She felt like she had to keep repeating that like a mantra.
Sirius tilted his head, his expression curious as he turned back to Hermione. "I don't think we've met. You new to Hogwarts?"
"Hermione is Molly's cousin," James explained before Hermione could answer. "Starting at Hogwarts in September. She'll be in our year."
Sirius's brow furrowed for a moment, but then he shrugged, his usual easy smile returning. "Well, welcome then. We'll see you around."
Hermione forced a smile, though her mind was still reeling. "Thanks."
James and Sirius exchanged a few more words with Molly before bidding their goodbyes, leaving Hermione standing there with her heart pounding in her chest. As they walked away, she couldn't help but watch them—James and Sirius, young and carefree, utterly unaware of the dark future that awaited them both, entwined in twisted ways.
Molly placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, pulling her back to the present. "Are you all right, dear?"
Hermione nodded, though the weight of what she had just seen lingered heavily in her heart. "Yes… just a little overwhelmed."
The rest of the summer passed by in a sort of blur, if Hermione was going to be honest with herself.
It was a strange feeling, living in a world that was both familiar and foreign to her. The Burrow, though not yet the chaotic, bustling home she remembered from her time, still carried the warmth and comfort that she had always associated with the Weasleys. Molly was a constant source of kindness and practicality, keeping Hermione busy with household tasks and little projects. Hermione found solace in those moments, feeling like she was helping in some small way to repay the family's generosity.
Degnoming the garden had become almost routine, and Hermione quickly learned that the gnomes were just as stubborn in the 1970s as they were in her time. Bill, always eager to help, took great delight in watching her chuck the gnomes over the hedge. Charlie, still too young to understand the whole process, often toddled behind them, giggling and trying to catch the gnomes as they were thrown. It was exhausting but strangely fulfilling, and by the time they were done, the garden looked tidier than it had in weeks.
When she wasn't helping out around the house, Hermione spent hours pouring over books. The Weasleys didn't have a massive collection, but there were enough to keep her mind occupied. She was grateful for the distraction, especially on the days when her thoughts wandered too far back to her friends—Harry and Ron—and to the uncertain future she had left behind. Occasionally, she would find herself lost in thought, wondering how they were managing without her, but she quickly shook those thoughts away. There was nothing she could do from here. Slowly over the weeks she came to peace with the fact that she had to live her life out here now, probably to never see them again. At least, definitely not as their best friend.
The highlight of her summer had been when her Hogwarts letter finally arrived. Even though she already knew it was coming, there was something thrilling about holding the envelope in her hands, seeing her new name—Hermione Prewett—written in elegant script on the front. It solidified her place in this time, even if the circumstances were beyond strange.
The letter brought with it a new supply list, which meant another trip to Diagon Alley with Molly. This time, Hermione felt more prepared, though it was still overwhelming. They picked up her required textbooks, some additional potion ingredients, and a new set of robes—proper Hogwarts attire for the coming year. Though she was more than happy to wear Molly's old clothes around the Burrow, Molly had insisted on getting her new sets of school robes, ensuring that she would fit in with the other students. She had outgrown the set she had arrived in anyway. They had a cauldron and brass scales to give her at home, that would have been on the first year supply list.
Now, as August 31st rolled around, Hermione found herself sitting on her bed in the guest room, surrounded by her things as she packed for the journey to Hogwarts. The weight of her situation pressed down on her, but she pushed it aside. Tomorrow, she would be going back to school, stepping into a world where she didn't quite belong, but where she had no choice but to fit in.
She glanced at her half-packed trunk and smiled faintly. In a way, she was glad to have some people around her age to interact with again—James, possibly Remus, and the rest of the students she would soon meet. It would be strange, of course, knowing who they would all become, but it would also be a welcome change from the solitude she had often felt over the summer.
With a sigh, Hermione folded the last of her robes and placed them neatly in the trunk. She closed the lid with a soft click, her heart racing with a mix of nerves and anticipation. Tomorrow, she would board the Hogwarts Express and face whatever this strange, altered past had in store for her.