James watched her, an almost fond look in his eyes as he tried to piece everything together. He let out a deep breath, his mind clearly still processing everything she had shared. "So, let me get this straight: Harry survived basilisk attacks, escaped from Voldemort-possessed objects, and produced a Patronus by the time he was thirteen?"

Hermione laughed, biting back the urge to remind him that it was "normal" for Harry. "Don't forget Voldemort-possessed teachers."

"Why was Voldemort even possessing a teacher?" James asked, his face growing serious again as he considered the danger. "Just to get to Harry?"

"Oh no, there was more to it. Dumbledore had the Philosopher's Stone hidden in the castle that year. Voldemort was trying to get it to resurrect himself, or something like that. You know, gain or sustain a new body. I'm not entirely sure whether Dumbledore was genuinely trying to keep it safe for Nicolas Flamel, or if he was deliberately using it to bait Voldemort… but there you have it. The Stone was hidden in the school, behind a bunch of 'obstacles' that, mind you, three first-years got past." She shook her head, exasperation and bewilderment in her voice. "Harry could have been seriously hurt, or worse, if not for the strange magic Lily's protection granted him. It seemed to prevent Voldemort from being able to touch him without immense pain."

James leaned forward, frowning, his mind churning as he took in every word. "That sounds like it goes beyond just any magic of a mother's love. I mean, don't get me wrong, Dumbledore's theory probably has some truth. The bond between magical mothers and their children is quite literally magic—if fostered properly, it's supposed to be powerful. But this… this seems like something much different."

"Wait," Hermione said, her eyes widening as she looked at him. "Are you telling me that a mother's love is actual magic here?"

James nodded, an earnest look crossing his face. "Yeah, though it's one of those things that only seems to be obvious to long established wizarding families. Generational knowledge I guess. A lack of that bond can really mess up magical children in ways we don't even fully understand. But for Lily's love to have such a profound effect on Harry after only one year together… she must have loved him more than anything. He is really lucky to have had that at least."

Hermione's heart twisted as she took in James's words, the horror of the implication flooding over her. She thought of Harry's early life at the Dursleys—the isolation, the years without any affection, without the bond that, according to James, would have grounded him in ways she could hardly comprehend. And she probably didn't even half of it. It's not that Harry had been all that forthcoming about his home situation. It had been the little comments really. And the fact that Ron literally had to rescue him in a flying car from his locked and barred bedroom with the twins in the flying Ford Anglia. "Yeah," she managed quietly, feeling a pang of sadness for Harry. "Really lucky."

James's brows drew together, noticing the shift in her tone. "What?" he asked, searching her face. "What's wrong?"

Hermione hesitated, knowing that this was yet another layer of the truth that would cut deeper than she'd like. But James had a right to know, and he'd asked for the full truth. "Well, I haven't told you yet where Harry went after you… after you and Lily were killed," she said, her voice soft but steady.

James looked at her, bewilderment and a bit of fear flickering in his eyes. "Where? I'd assume my parents would have taken him in, if Sirius—as godfather, like you said—was wrongfully incarcerated."

Hermione shook her head. "Harry went to his last living relatives to keep the blood protection alive. His aunt and uncle. I have to assume that your parents… well, they must have passed away sometime before, since it was Dumbledore who made the arrangements."

James's confusion deepened, his voice filled with disbelief. "His aunt and uncle? But… I don't have any siblings. It can't have been anyone from my family." He paused, his face paling as something dawned on him. "Wait… Lily's sister? The Muggle one who calls her a freak?"

Hermione's eyes widened slightly. She had never heard Lily mention this to her, so how could James know? "How do you know her sister calls her a freak?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I can't imagine Lily confiding in you about that."

James looked slightly sheepish, though a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I, uh, overheard them at the station before our first year," he admitted. "Petunia, right? She was saying something nasty when that slipped out as well, and Lily was just… standing there, looking heartbroken."

"Already stalking her even then?" Hermione teased, trying to keep the mood light, though she couldn't shake the sadness in her chest.

James raised his hand, crossing it over his heart dramatically, as if making a sacred vow. "No, I swear on my Marauder honour, it was a total accident! My parents were dropping me off for the train, and we happened to walk past right then, just as Petunia said it."

Hermione softened, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I believe you," she said.

James's smile faltered, though, as a thoughtful look overtook his features. "Do I even want to know what that household must have been like?"

"Probably not," she replied, her voice quiet.

"Tell me anyway," he insisted, his tone both curious and sombre.

"Why?" she asked, hesitating. "We're going to stop all this from happening, aren't we?"

"Still," he said, his gaze steady and serious. "I want to know… I want to know what I'm fighting for. What the alternative would be."

Hermione's gaze drifted away, her thoughts pulling her to the harsh memories of Harry's life at the Dursleys. "Well," she began softly, "if it came to the worst, and it was our child targeted by Voldemort… even if we didn't make it, Harry would never go to Petunia. I am not related to her."

"Where would Harry even go in that situation?" James asked, his brow furrowing. "Assuming everything was the same, my parents dead, Sirius incarcerated… I'd be happy with Remus taking him, he would make it work somehow, to have someone watch Harry on the full moons, but knowing the wizarding world I don't think anyone would allow it, once you know they realise… But if that blood protection is so bloody damn important that Dumbledore would leave Harry with Petunia , we literally have no one. You don't have siblings either, and your parents would be utterly unaware of magic in 1981. How would you even explain why it would be important for them to take him in? A complete stranger to them. Not to mention the absurd situation of him being raised as siblings with his own toddler mother, who wouldn't even know that she'd be his mother in the future." He sighed, a trace of frustration lining his voice. "And I don't think Molly or anyone else in the Prewett family would work from this perspective. Adoption or no, I'm guessing it'd have to be a blood relative—though I think that would be the only viable option."

Hermione hesitated, feeling a pang of both dread and relief. "For the record, I don't think the Hermione Granger, who'll be born in 1979, is technically me."

James looked at her, stunned. "What? Why?"

"Well, think about it," she replied, finding herself grateful to talk about the logical implications of time travel rather than the pain Harry had endured. "Things have already changed. You're saying you're never going to marry Lily Evans, for one thing. Assuming that remains true for the next few years, this couldn't possibly be a closed time loop anymore. That Hermione will most likely not go through the exact same experiences as I did, and nothing guarantees she'll travel back in time. Even if she did, she'd come back with memories of someone else being Harry's parents, if Harry even existed, not Lily and James Potter. So that Hermione… can't be me. My memories still have you and Lily as Harry's parents... So when the Time-Turner broke, I think it actually created an alternate timeline."

James blinked, his face softening as understanding dawned on him. "Oh… yeah, that makes sense."

She gave him a small, hopeful smile. "It's a good thing, in a way. It means we can change things. Usually, with a Time-Turner, it's a closed loop. Everything that happens when you go back has already happened; going back doesn't change anything—it just fulfils the role you already played because you've been there all along."

James raised his eyebrows, a playful smirk tugging at his mouth. "When did you become a time-travel expert?"

Hermione laughed, though it was a bit sheepish. "Seven months of intense Time-Turner use doesn't qualify?"

He chuckled, then asked in mock seriousness, "How old are you even?"

She considered it, laughing as she ran the numbers aloud. "Well, let's see… An average of four hours extra a day for seven months… 210 times 4, divided by 24. Adds up to only about 35 extra days, give or take. I didn't exactly keep a journal of it."

James stared at her, a bit in awe. "Did you seriously just calculate that in your head?"

"What?" She shrugged, her smile a bit bashful. "It's simple maths, not Arithmancy."

He leaned back, grinning. "So you're saying we should be celebrating your birthday on August 15th instead?"

She rolled her eyes, laughing. "Don't you dare! Besides, technically, I lost about three months coming back. It was April 1st in 1994, but I arrived on July 4th, 1974."

James squinted in concentration, doing some mental maths of his own. "So that'd put it at November… 17th? If we're going for exact maths. Sirius would love it, of course," he added with a grin, "he'd finally be the oldest again, even if just by a couple of weeks."

"James Potter, you're utterly ridiculous. Leave my birthday alone," she laughed, giving his shoulder a light shove. But she couldn't stop the warm feeling that settled in her chest as they laughed, even with the weight of the future between them.

He chuckled, but after a moment of silence, his expression grew more serious. "Don't hate me for the question, but… a bloke's gotta know." He hesitated, glancing at her uncertainly. "Did Harry and you… you know? Did you have feelings for him?"

Hermione blinked, a bit surprised by the question, then smiled, shaking her head. "No, James. Harry and I were much like Remus and I are right now. Best friends, or like he was the brother I never had."

James's shoulders visibly relaxed, and he let out a relieved breath. "Oh, okay. Good."

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction. "If anyone," she added, "it was Ron who I fancied a bit. Though in hindsight, that would have never worked. We would have driven each other up the wall. Even at fourteen, people used to tell us we were like an old married couple, always bickering and arguing over the smallest things."

James leaned forward, a smirk playing on his lips. "So, he was like Sirius, then? You know, a little cocky and argumentative, but charming underneath?"

Hermione shook her head, laughing softly. "No, not at all. Sirius is actually funny, and I enjoy the banter with him. Ron… he could be downright mean at times. Even to his friends. There was this time in first year, for example, when he called me a 'bloody nightmare.' Said it was no wonder I didn't have friends."

James frowned, his eyes narrowing. "What? Because of what?"

"Because I dared to correct his pronunciation of 'Wingardium Leviosa' in Charms," she said, rolling her eyes. "I mean, sure, I was a bit of a know-it-all back then, but he didn't have to be so nasty about it. I went to the girls' bathroom after that, hiding out because I was upset, and then… well, that's when the troll cornered me."

"A troll? In the bathroom?" James looked at her, appalled. "They had trolls wandering about Hogwarts? And you were alone? As a first-year?"

She nodded, a wry smile touching her lips. "Quirrell let it in on Halloween night. As a distraction to get at the Stone. Ron and Harry came to find me, and they actually managed to knock the troll out with Wingardium Leviosa on its own club of all things. That's how the three of us became friends. Surviving a troll together tends to form a bit of a bond."

James let out a low whistle. "Sounds like Ron had quite the effect on you from the beginning. But calling you a 'bloody nightmare'—that's a bit rich, isn't it? He was probably just embarrassed because you were right."

"Maybe," Hermione said thoughtfully. "But it hurt at the time. I'd left behind my old world, my family… everything. And I was terrified I wouldn't fit in here. So, yeah, his words got to me. But it's strange—through all the fighting and bickering, Harry somehow managed to hold us all together. Looking back, I wonder if that's why our friendship lasted so long."

James shook his head, his gaze warm but sympathetic. "You deserved better than that. A friend who made you feel bad for knowing things? Rubbish. You're brilliant, Hermione. And it sounds like Ron knew that… he just didn't know how to handle it."

Hermione shrugged, a wistful smile crossing her face. "Thank you, James. And I suppose, in his way, he did care. Not if it would have gone anywhere if I had stayed… I'm just grateful for the friendship we had. He did save me from that troll, after all, even if he put me there in the first place."

"Typical Gryffindor behaviour, honestly," James laughed. "Charge in recklessly to fix a problem, even if it's one we created. But here's the thing—Harry and Ron might have been brave, but you were the one with the brains. And, Merlin, you clearly kept them in line."

"Yeah, except when I couldn't. Third year was a bit of a mess. I was at odds with at least one of them practically the whole year."

"What happened?" James asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Scabbers and Crookshanks... You already know the story," she sighed. "Ron was furious with me because my cat, Crookshanks, was trying to, well, hunt his rat, Scabbers. And, okay, I can see why he was upset, but Crookshanks is a cat; they hunt rats! And actually, we're not even supposed to have rats as pets at Hogwarts—only cats, toads, and owls are officially allowed." She rolled her eyes, the memory clearly still a little raw. "So Ron thought I was being inconsiderate for even getting a cat, then not being able to properly control it, and maybe I was, but it felt impossible to know how to handle it. Looking back, I suppose I have Sirius to thank for encouraging Crookshanks. I'm sure he was having the time of his life sneaking around with him."

James's eyes twinkled with mischief as he laughed. "I can only imagine the glee Sirius must have had, befriending a cat in order to get closer to a rat. That's like something out of a fable—'The Dog, the Cat, and the Rat.'"

Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes but unable to help her smile. "Right. I'll be sure to write a children's book about it someday. The cover illustration will be Crookshanks looking absolutely delighted with Scabbers in his mouth, while Sirius, as a dog, tries to look innocent in the background."

James laughed, shaking his head. "I can already see it—a bestseller, no doubt. But that doesn't explain the whole year of drama."

"Oh, right, the other major incident," Hermione said, taking a breath. "The Firebolt fiasco."

"Firebolt?" James repeated, his interest piqued as he leaned forward.

Hermione took a deep breath, leaning back and crossing her arms. "Oh, where to begin… so, in November, during a match, Harry had fallen off his broom because of the dementors. His old broom, a Nimbus 2000, was picked up by the wind right into the Whomping Willow. Totally wrecked. Unrepairable. But then, suddenly, at Christmas, he received a mysterious package. No note, no signature, just a brand-new, top-of-the-line Firebolt."

James looked at her with an amused glint in his eyes. "So… Harry gets a mysterious broom, and instead of thinking it's some wonderful gift, you immediately suspect it's cursed?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, clearly unimpressed with the slight teasing and scandalised note in his voice. Bloody boys and their broom obsessions. "James, this wasn't any ordinary broom. This was a Firebolt. Top of the line—fastest broom on the market at the time. Like Professional Quidditch League level broom."

James whistled low. "Sounds incredible, though. A broom that could put my Nimbus to shame? Can't say I wouldn't be tempted."

"Exactly! And when this unknown, brand-new broom showed up, with no note or indication of who sent it, I didn't care how amazing it was. It looked suspicious. We all thought Sirius Black was after Harry that year, and here comes the most expensive broom on the market, conveniently falling into Harry's hands without explanation. The last thing we needed was Harry riding a broom that could have been jinxed."

"Okay, fair point. After what happened in first year, I can see your mind going to that immediately," James's expression softened with understanding. "So what did you do?"

"When he refused to get it checked for curses, I went to Professor McGonagall," she said, shrugging. "She confiscated it and asked Professor Flitwick to help her take it apart, strip down every piece to make sure it was safe. Poor Harry was furious, and I got the silent treatment from both him and Ron for almost a month. Even the other students thought I'd been cruel."

"Did they find anything?" James asked, leaning closer.

Hermione shook her head, laughing wryly. "Nothing. McGonagall declared the Firebolt safe, and Harry eventually got it back. I still think Sirius sent it, though! No idea how he got access to his vaults while on the run, but mark my words, that would be just like him—sending expensive broomsticks to his godson like it was nothing."

James's lips quirked into a grin. "You're not wrong there. If he had the chance, he'd have spoiled Harry rotten. He'd probably try to outdo every parent at Hogwarts for the sheer fun of it."

"Exactly," she said with a laugh. "But, Merlin, the heckling I endured during that month! People treated me like I'd broken some sacred trust, even though all I did was worry about Harry with a killer supposedly out to get him. It felt like everyone thought I was betraying him."

He shook his head sympathetically. "Of course you'd be looking out for him. You're Hermione Granger."

She blushed faintly at that, but her smile faded as she continued. "Then, just as things were starting to calm down between Harry and I, Scabbers disappeared. And Ron… well, he was convinced Crookshanks had eaten him, finally getting to him after months of torture. Found his sheets covered in blood and all. So suddenly, I'm public enemy number one again , only now it's for being a cat owner with a 'vicious killer' pet."

James's eyes widened as he processed what she was saying. "Wait a second… So Peter faked his death? Again ?"

She nodded, rolling her eyes at the absurdity. "Apparently, he's perfected the art. Thinking back, I don't even know what I believed, but I know I was exhausted trying to defend Crookshanks against Ron. And it only got worse as things went on. Ron stopped talking to me, and Harry was still moody about the Firebolt, siding with Ron most of the time. Then there was the whole Buckbeak situation, which I got completely wrapped up in while juggling twelve classes with a Time-Turner… Honestly, I was overwhelmed that year. Though it was still better than spending a total of three months in the Hospital Wing in second year."

James raised his eyebrows, smirking. "Right, yes, you and all your classes. Glad you didn't try to keep that up in fourth year with us; we'd have missed out on all your brilliance."

She swatted at his arm, rolling her eyes. "Oh, do shut up."

"Who's Buckbeak?"

"Oh, Hagrid's hippogriff," she said, leaning back with a sigh. "Hagrid was teaching Care of Magical Creatures that year. There was an incident at the start of term. Draco Malfoy, that insufferable prat, couldn't follow simple instructions and insulted the hippogriff right to its face."

"He didn't!" James gasped, looking scandalised. "Does the kid have a death wish or something?"

Hermione chuckled darkly. "One would think. Anyway, Buckbeak reacted, of course. Malfoy got a small scratch on his arm for his trouble, but, being who he was, he turned it into a massive ordeal, pretending it hurt for weeks after even though Pomfrey got him sorted in minutes. His father got involved, and before we knew it, there was a hearing scheduled for Buckbeak's execution. So I spent half the year in the library, poring over law books, trying to find some way to save him."

"Hang on," James interjected, narrowing his eyes. "This Draco's father… he wouldn't happen to be Lucius Malfoy, would he?"

Hermione blinked, surprised. "How did you know?"

"Because that ponce graduated the year before you came. If this Draco kid is anything like his father, it all makes sense. Arrogant, entitled, obsessed with appearances, always thinking he's above everyone else. Was he in Slytherin, too?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course he was. But let's not turn this into a 'Slytherin is inherently bad' discussion."

"Look, all I'm saying," James replied, throwing his hands up in mock defence, "is that it fits, doesn't it? A Malfoy, in Slytherin, stirring up trouble for an innocent creature. Classic."

"I suppose," she conceded reluctantly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

He leaned closer, his voice softer but still playful. "And you, of course, couldn't just leave it alone, could you?"

She shook her head, laughing a little. "Of course not. I couldn't stand by while Buckbeak was about to lose his life over Malfoy's dramatics. Ironically enough, Malfoy's dramatics are exactly why I'm here in this time. All because I slapped him."

James's jaw dropped as he processed what she'd just shared, his eyes going wide with a mix of shock and pure admiration. "You slapped Draco Malfoy across the face?"

Hermione grinned sheepishly, but there was a proud glint in her eyes. "Right across his smug , sneering face."

"Merlin's beard, I would've paid to see that!" James said, a wicked smile breaking across his face.

She laughed, shaking her head. "It was one of those impulsive moments. I'd finally had enough of his attitude regarding Hagrid and Buckbeak. And then, of course, he hexed me right back, and Harry tried to throw something at him in return. The two spells must have collided and hit me in the chest right where the Time-Turner was hanging and—" she gestured around her "—well, here I am."

"Who knew Malfoy would actually be useful for something," James said with a smirk.

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head as she took in his expression. "I doubt he'd appreciate that particular compliment. But yes, indirectly, Draco Malfoy is the reason I'm here."

James's smile softened as he looked at her, clearly thinking back on their earlier conversation. After a pause, he seemed to remember something. "But hold on—you mentioned being in the Hospital Wing for three months in second year? What was that about?"

"Well," Hermione began, "first was the Polyjuice Potion incident—"

"Ah yes," he interrupted, grinning as he leaned in. "The infamous cat-hair mix-up."

She laughed, swatting him playfully. "Yes, that one. I lost six weeks to that disaster, though at least I was able to keep up with my studies. Even Madam Pomfrey couldn't keep me from getting books and notes sneaked in for me."

"Of course not," he said, shaking his head fondly. "Merlin forbid Hermione Granger go without her daily dose of knowledge. But… hold on, you never actually said why you were brewing Polyjuice as a second year in the first place."

Hermione ducked her head, looking a bit sheepish. "We wanted to sneak into the Slytherin dorms to find out whether it was Malfoy who was opening the Chamber of Secrets."

He raised an eyebrow, laughing in disbelief. "You lot were really obsessed with Malfoy, weren't you?"

"Oh, don't act all innocent. You and Sirius are practically just as obsessed with Snape; we just had better motives. And at least we didn't go around hexing Malfoy in the hallways without provocation," she shot back, crossing her arms.

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, fair point. But a Polyjuice Potion… in second year?"

"Desperate times," she replied with a grin. "We didn't know what else to do. We thought he was the Heir of Slytherin or something equally sinister. And, well… turns out we weren't exactly cut out for the whole cloak-and-dagger approach."

James shook his head, still trying to absorb the audacity of it all. "You lot really didn't think small, did you?"

Hermione shrugged with a laugh. "Apparently not. But that wasn't even the worst of it. I'd barely recovered from the whole Polyjuice incident when I ended up spending another six weeks petrified by the Basilisk."

He shook his head in disbelief, still processing her words. "You should have started with that when you were talking about the Basilisk earlier."

She raised an eyebrow, amused by his reaction. "I thought we were talking about Harry's involvement at the time. Besides, it was… one of those things I'd rather not relive in every detail."

"Okay, that's fair," he conceded, then added, voice softening, "But honestly, Hermione, I care much more about you." His cheeks pinked as the words left him, but he didn't shy away from her gaze. "I mean sure hearing about Harry is fascinating, but he is really nothing more than an imaginary character for me at this point. You are here. You are real."

Caught off guard, Hermione felt her own cheeks heat. She looked down, hiding a shy smile as she fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve. "So… I had just figured out what the creature in the Chamber of Secrets was, and I started carrying a mirror to check around corners."

James blinked, looking at her like she'd sprouted another head. "You were… going around corners, mirror-first, in case you ran into a giant snake?"

She nodded, holding back a laugh. "Well, yes. The stare of a Basilisk kills if you meet its eyes directly, but if you see it in a reflection, it only petrifies you."

He shook his head, half-amused and half-horrified. " Only petrifies you, she says," he repeated. "And you thought mirror-checking was a reasonable solution?"

"It seemed like the only way to keep moving around the school without, you know… dying." She shivered slightly, remembering the eerie sensation of being frozen in that petrified state. "I was so close to the end of term, too, and then that happened. They cancelled the end-of-year exams, which honestly felt like adding insult to injury when I was finally woken up."

James laughed, feigning shock. "Cancelled exams? The audacity! How did you survive?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. "You joke, but yes, it was a bit of a horror show for me. I'd worked so hard that year and then… nothing. No exams, no validation of my efforts, just a big blank."

James grinned, thoroughly amused. "Hermione, you do realise that for 99% of the students, cancelled exams would be cause for celebration?"

"Oh, I know," she said with a dramatic sigh, "and Harry and Ron definitely made fun of me for it. Honestly, though, being petrified was terrible. There was no way to track time; it was just an endless stasis, almost like sleep but worse because you couldn't dream or feel anything. I only woke up when the antidote was administered weeks later, and it was as if no time had passed at all."

"That… actually sounds terrifying." James's amusement softened into something more serious as he processed her words. "Damn, I can honestly say everything we Marauders got up to is tame compared to your school years, and we were willing participants, unlike you."

"Define willing," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes with a grin. "It's not like we were doing it for the thrill of it… but you know Harry—if there was some kind of mystery or anomaly, he couldn't let it go. Take the murderous hissing in the walls only he could hear. Naturally, he just had to investigate that and, of course, drag Ron and me along. I was the one stuck doing all the research since those two couldn't be half-arsed."

"Harry Potter Detective Agency," James said, grinning. "Got it."

"You laugh now," she said, laughing despite herself, "but with his fame, he could have made that work."

James joined her laughter, eyes gleaming. "Fame, a hero complex, and a knack for finding trouble. Yeah, I can see the advertisements now: 'For every lost basilisk or possessed teacher, contact Harry Potter, the Boy Who Solves It All.' "

"Don't forget Ron and me running damage control in the background," Hermione added, shaking her head. "Honestly, it was like he had this invisible magnet for danger. We could be minding our own business, and suddenly, we'd be facing trolls, giant chess sets, cursed objects—you name it."

James's grin softened, his expression shifting to one of quiet reflection. "It must've been… exhausting sometimes. But from what you're saying, it sounds like you kept each other going. That's a kind of loyalty that, you know… not everyone gets to have. Even if you were fighting at times."

She nodded, feeling the warmth of those memories settle over her. "Yes. We had plenty of disagreements, but at the end of the day, we knew we had each other's backs. When things got dangerous, none of that petty stuff ever mattered. It was almost instinctual… we just knew we'd be there for each other."

He studied her, a flicker of admiration in his gaze. "So, he didn't just survive Voldemort's curse—he survived Hogwarts with you two constantly keeping him in check."

Hermione laughed, the sound echoing off the stone walls around them. "In a way, yes. He could be so single-minded. Sometimes it felt like we were there just to keep him grounded. Not that it was always successful, mind you—there was a time he went into the Forbidden Forest without telling either of us, just because he overheard something that sounded suspicious."

"You don't say," James muttered, eyes wide with mock surprise.

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh, don't pretend you wouldn't do the same. You'd be right there with him."

"Alright, fair," he conceded, grinning sheepishly. "But at least I'd drag Sirius and Remus along for the fun—and you know Sirius would be egging me on."

Hermione's laugh softened as she watched him, feeling a tug at her heart. "You know, for as reckless as Harry was, it is… a relief to have people like you and Sirius, Remus and Peter to remind me that even this madness wasn't unique to Harry. Now it feels like there was some strange legacy, a tradition of charging headfirst into chaos."

"Tradition, huh?" James tilted his head, pretending to consider it. "The Marauders would certainly be honoured."

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep the smile from her face. "Harry did have this Marauder spirit, in a way. He always felt like the rules were optional, so long as it meant protecting people. He just didn't quite have the finesse you and your friends have."

"Is that so?" he said, his voice filled with mock insult. "I'll have you know, we honed that 'finesse' over years of detention and mischief."

Hermione laughed. "I can imagine! Harry would have loved to know all the tricks you lot came up with. Though something tells me McGonagall would have needed a decade to recover if he'd actually met you."

"Oh, she would've retired on the spot," James chuckled, shaking his head. "Imagine, two generations of Marauders at Hogwarts at once… they'd need a full-time team of Aurors on campus just to keep up."

She smiled, warmth spreading through her at the thought. "You would have loved him. Both you and Lily."

James's gaze softened, his smile fading as he looked at her with that mix of admiration and wonder that never failed to make her heart race. "It sounds like he was a good kid. Brave, kind. And you… you were there for him, even through all the chaos." He reached over, his fingers warm as they enveloped hers, grounding her amidst the weight of everything they'd just discussed. "Thank you, Hermione. For looking after him."

Her chest tightened, and she swallowed, struck by the sincerity in his words. "He was like family, James. You don't abandon family. Not ever."

James nodded, a thoughtful frown tugging at his mouth as he seemed to sink back into his own thoughts, staring up at the ceiling as if he could somehow read the answers from it. "There's two things—well, three—that stand out in all this. First, that diary… a memory shouldn't be able to possess people. That's not normal magic."

Hermione nodded, her mind racing alongside his as he continued.

"Second… Voldemort as a wraith. There was no body found after 1981, right?"

"Not that I know of," she confirmed.

He exhaled sharply. "And then there's Harry's Parseltongue ability… which he somehow got from Voldemort himself. And that bloody scar. I don't know how all these things fit, but it's bugging me. It feels like the answer is there, I just can't reach it." He paused, his eyes lighting up as a thought seemed to crystallise. "I'll need to check our family grimoires."

"Grimoires?" she repeated, intrigued.

He nodded, giving her a half-smile. "All old pureblood families have them. They're essentially journals—records that each head of the family has kept for generations. They contain everything from important events and new spells learned or invented by the family to cautionary tales. A lot of it isn't the sort of thing you'd find in textbooks or even the Hogwarts library. Traditional wizarding books might touch on some of it, but families kept their best secrets. So… you won't find it anywhere else."

"Let me guess—only the head of the family and heir can access them?"

He grinned. "Hermione Prewett, you'll make a proper pureblood witch yet."

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. "It does seem to come in handy, doesn't it?"

"Quite," he said with a laugh, clearly pleased. "Though actually, the lady of the house has access too, albeit limited in some families. But yeah, any other family member would have to go through the head of house to read any of it."

"So you think there might be something in your family's records that could help?" she asked, intrigued. "Whatever Voldemort did to prevent himself from completely dying—it has to be dark magic. Why would the Potters have anything on it, you… don't really seem like a dark family to me."

He shook his head, eyes glinting with something between determination and pride. "No, we're not a dark family, not by a long shot. But… if you look far enough back, you'll find things that, by today's standards, would be considered… questionable. Stuff that's been banned or labelled dark because of what it requires or the power it grants. But I wasn't thinking of dark magic our family might have used, exactly. I was thinking more of the 'off-limits' cautionary tales. Because believe me, if something wildly unusual happened in the wizarding world, the heads of every family wrote it down."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, a wry smile forming as she looked at him. "Alright, I'll trust your judgement on this. I mean, it's not like I have a private library full of rare, family-only books in my back pocket or anything."

James chuckled, catching the subtle jab in her words. "What, feeling a bit envious of my exclusive Potter collection?"

She crossed her arms, her smile turning a bit smug. "It is a little unfair, you know. Here I am, having had to scrape together every bit of magical knowledge from the school library or wherever else I could find it, while you have a treasure trove of ancient wizarding secrets just lying around, gathering dust."

He raised his hands in a playful surrender. "Alright, alright, I see your point. I'll consider it my Marauder duty to share whatever I find with you. You deserve it, if only for putting up with all of this."

Hermione laughed, though she couldn't deny the thrill that pulsed through her. She'd read nearly every book at Hogwarts, and the idea of having access to something rare, something untouched by anyone outside the Potter family, stirred her curiosity even further. "I'll hold you to that," she said, eyes glinting with excitement.

James's grin softened as he spoke, "Actually, some of our grimoires are really fun. We inherited a few from the Peverells when their line died out. There's this one that's a bit special. You can only read it if you're wearing the Cloak."

Hermione's eyes widened, a mixture of excitement and scepticism. "Are you supposed to be telling me this? Sounds like something that's a closely guarded family secret."

He shrugged, leaning back with an easy smile. "Look, I trust you. Implicitly. But you're right—there's a lot of dangerous knowledge in that head of yours already. You should really learn Occlumency."

"Yes, I know." Hermione sighed, running a hand through her hair, causing the curls to go even more wild. "It's been on my mind ever since I arrived, and Dumbledore decided to poke around up here." She tapped her temple. "But it's not exactly the kind of information you can casually look up. Even the library didn't have much… or at least not anything that was, you know, usable. " She looked at him, brows slightly raised. "How do you even know it?"

He shrugged. "I guess it's another pureblood perk. Heirs are usually taught from a young age, especially if your family has any sensitive information. Better to keep secrets secure, you know?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "You know, I kind of hate you right now. Just a tiny bit. Access to a family library full of secrets and Occlumency training?"

He chuckled, leaning closer to kiss her on her cheek. "Well, lucky for you, I'm more than willing to share." His voice softened a bit, and his expression turned serious. "I can teach you. I'm not a natural Legilimens, but I can manage the spell well enough to get you through the basics. Occlumency's one of those things you really can only learn by doing."

Hermione nodded, her expression thoughtful. "I suppose that means I'll need you to actually try… and dive into my thoughts?" She tapped her head again, feeling a bit apprehensive about the idea of someone actively rooting around in her mind, even if it was James.

"Yep." He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, his gaze steady. "And you'll need to learn how to shut it all down so I can't see anything you don't want me to. But don't worry—I'll go easy on you. I'll try not to see all your deepest, darkest secrets right away."

She raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk on her lips. "At this point, I think you already know all my deepest, darkest secrets."

James's face lit up mischievously. "Oh, really? Meaning you wouldn't mind if I saw what goes through your mind when I do this?" And before she could respond, he pulled her close, his hand at her back as he drew her onto his lap. His other hand threaded gently through her hair as he leaned in, kissing her deeply, leaving her momentarily breathless.

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest, her mind going blissfully blank, any residual nerves melting away under his touch. She found herself smiling against his lips, and when they finally broke apart, she met his gaze, laughter and exhilaration mixing in her expression. "If that's your idea of helping me with Occlumency," she murmured, breathless, "then I'm all in."

He chuckled softly, his thumb tracing a slow circle on her back. "Think of it as… motivation. Occlumency is all about control, you know. Keeping things under wraps, even when you're… distracted."

"Distracted?" She gave him a teasing look, trying to regain her composure. "So that's your strategy then? Just distract me until I slip up?"

"Well," he said, grinning, "if it works, it works. And I'm not exactly complaining about the method."

They both laughed, the room filled with a comforting ease as they sat there together, his arms wrapped securely around her. But after a moment, his gaze turned more serious, his expression softening.

"But really," he said gently, "I won't push. I know it's a lot, asking you to let me into your mind like that. Legillimency can feel invasive, but I want you to know that you can trust me, Hermione. Anything you don't want me to see, I'll respect that."

She smiled back at him, feeling the depth of his sincerity. "I do trust you, James," she replied. "And I want to be good at this. If there's even the slightest chance that something I know could… change things we don't want, then I'll learn however I need to." Her cheeks flushed slightly as she added, "Besides, there are certain thoughts I'd rather keep private."

"Oh, don't worry," he replied, brushing his thumb lightly across her cheek. "Your secrets are safe with me, even if I do happen to catch a glimpse of what's going through your head the next time I kiss you like that."

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress her laugh as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "I think you're starting to enjoy this whole teaching role a bit too much, Potter."

"Possibly," he said with a grin, pulling her close again. "But if all my lessons go like this, can you blame me?"

Another thought struck Hermione then, her brow furrowing slightly as she glanced up at him. "Wait… If the Cloak is so important to your family's legacy, why would you lend it to Dumbledore?"

James paused, looking at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Harry only got it back from Dumbledore at Christmas in his first year," she explained. "He received it as a mysterious package, no signature, just a note saying, 'Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.' He didn't find out it was from Dumbledore until the end of the year, after that whole showdown with… well, with Quirrell."

James's mouth quirked in amusement. "What is it with Harry and anonymous Christmas packages?" He shook his head, half in disbelief. "Though, I mean, I lend it to Sirius all the time, and I've always been a bit loose with it myself. But now that you mention it, it's interesting that Dumbledore even knew about it. Let alone how special it really is."

Hermione nodded, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. "It's another mystery to unravel. You mentioned before that it's connected to the Peverells, so maybe that's a starting point."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, sure. I'll look into it; there must be something in the family grimoires. It's going to make for an interesting summer, that's for sure."

James's stomach let out a rather loud grumble just then, and he glanced down, looking almost affronted by the sound. "Merlin, we've talked right past dinner."

Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "Not just past dinner—curfew as well. And we don't have your Cloak or the Map."

He leaned in, waggling his eyebrows mischievously. "Don't you worry, I know all the secret passages by heart," he winked at her.

"Of course you do," she replied, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her grin. She already knew she'd follow him anywhere, even if it meant risking detention.

James stood up, reaching out a hand to help her from her seat. They slipped out of the Room of Requirement with a quietness born of practice and necessity, James glancing around each corner with a confidence that spoke to just how many times he'd made this journey before.

As they tiptoed down a dimly lit corridor, Hermione felt her heart pound with the thrill of it, her pulse matching the echo of their soft footfalls. She watched James map out their route with a sly confidence, occasionally giving her a look that said, trust me. And somehow, she did.

When they reached the stretch of wall leading to the kitchens, James reached up and tickled the pear on a painting of a fruit bowl. It immediately giggled and turned into a brass door handle, and the painting swung open to reveal the warm, bustling atmosphere of the Hogwarts kitchens. House-elves scurried to and fro, a flurry of activity around the long tables laden with trays, bowls, and platters, still cleaning up from the last meal.

The elves, as always, seemed delighted to see them, unperturbed by the fact that they were out of bounds, and eagerly set about plying them with all manner of food. Once they'd settled down at a cosy table with a small assortment of sweets and sandwiches, Hermione looked around thoughtfully, finally voicing something that had been on her mind since her first encounter with house-elves.

"I know everyone's used to it here, but I just can't get comfortable with the notion of house-elves," she said quietly, her brow furrowing. "I mean, it feels… I don't know… it just feels wrong. Like… slavery, almost." She glanced at the elves around her with concern, lowering her voice as she continued, "Sure, the elves at Hogwarts seem happy enough to work here, and I know your family treats your elves well, but in second year… there was this elf, Dobby. He was obsessed with Harry and tried to prevent him from coming back to Hogwarts because he'd overheard his family plotting something dangerous against him. It turned out to be that whole mess with Tom Riddle's diary and the Chamber of Secrets. Dobby was so afraid, but he kept punishing himself for trying to help. It was heart-wrenching."

James's face grew serious, and he leaned in, equally quiet. "Wait… Tom Riddle? I thought you said it was Voldemort's diary that started the whole Basilisk business."

Hermione nodded, her expression darkening a bit. With a flick of her wand, she cast a Muffliato charm to keep their conversation private. "Right, sorry, I should have mentioned this earlier. So, apparently, it's an anagram. 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' rearranges to 'I am Lord Voldemort.' The shade of Voldemort as a teenager was fond of villain monologuing; he told Harry all about it when he went to rescue Ginny. Sure, he didn't think Harry would live to tell anyone, but still—seems like a ridiculous oversight."

James looked incredulous, processing her words. "So… he was really born Tom Riddle? That's not a wizarding name. You mean to tell me Voldemort, blood supremacist extraordinaire, is a Muggleborn?"

"More likely a half-blood," she said, leaning closer. "He's connected to Slytherin, after all—Chamber of Secrets, Heir of Slytherin, all that. So I'm guessing his mother was the one with magical blood."

James shook his head, laughing in disbelief. "Well, it seems like every corner we turn, there's some new mystery. Potter Detective Agency is sounding more and more tempting by the minute. Do you think he was a student at Hogwarts?"

"Oh, definitely," Hermione confirmed, her gaze intense. "The Chamber of Secrets was opened once before—fifty years before our time. Riddle pinned it on Hagrid, which got him expelled and his wand broken. Dumbledore must have suspected the truth, though, because he kept Hagrid on as groundskeeper afterward. I think Hagrid was in his third year when Riddle was in fifth."

James's brows knit together thoughtfully. "So, Hagrid would have actually been there, back when all this started. Do you think he'd be willing to talk about that time?"

"I think so," she said, smiling a little at the idea. "Subtlety isn't exactly his strong suit. We managed to get a lot of information out of him back in first year when we were trying to learn about Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone."

James grinned at that, clearly intrigued. "So, we add Hagrid to our list of people to, ah… carefully question."

They fell into a contemplative silence, their thoughts swirling with questions, theories, and the sense that something momentous was unfolding—even if they couldn't quite see what it was just yet.

Hermione broke the quiet first, her eyes lighting up with curiosity. "Do you think there are yearbooks at Hogwarts? Some kind of record of old students?"

James opened his mouth to answer, but before he could respond, the door to the kitchens swung open, and in strolled Sirius, peeling off the Invisibility Cloak as he entered. James hastily dispelled the Muffliato charm, sharing a quick, amused look with Hermione.

"There you are," Sirius announced, flashing them a sly grin. "You two have been off the map so long, I figured you got lost in a secret tunnel, snogging your faces off."

Hermione rolled her eyes, fighting back a smirk. "Don't be crass, Sirius. We were just talking. In the Room of Requirement."

"Sure, 'talking' through dinner," Sirius said, dropping into a seat beside them. "You missed quite a show, by the way. I'm this close to throttling Wormtail."

"What happened?" James asked, already laughing in anticipation.

Sirius groaned dramatically, running a hand through his hair. "So, that Ravenclaw chit—Cressida Powell, you know, the one I was snogging last year—she waltzes over, not-so-subtly hinting at when we might next find ourselves in a broom cupboard."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "And Peter…?"

"Peter," Sirius continued, grimacing, "decides it's his place to play bodyguard and tells her to shove off, saying I'm 'off the market' and have my heart set on a certain prefect now. Of course, every person in earshot looks straight at Lily, and she's looking disgusted, mouthing 'absolutely not' to everyone around her."

James snorted, covering his mouth to hide his laughter as Sirius went on, exasperated.

"But then," Sirius continued, his voice rising with irritation, "Remus goes and blushes like a… like a bloody virgin bride on her wedding night, and suddenly it's all over Cressida's face—she knows, right there in front of everyone. She's the school's worst gossip, I swear."

"Oh no," Hermione muttered, exchanging a knowing look with James.

"Right, and just when it couldn't get worse," Sirius said, hands gesturing wildly, "Peter stands up on the bench—on the bloody bench!—and shouts for the whole hall to hear, 'Sirius Black is taken! Lay off, ladies!'"

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, trying not to burst into laughter at the look of pure, scandalised horror on Sirius's face, but at the same time was horrified herself, feeling vindicated in her statement when she told James that she had wished he hadn't told Peter about Remus and Sirius yet.

"I'm sure he was just… trying to protect Remus, you know?" James offered diplomatically, though he caught Hermione's I told you so glance. "Making sure Moony doesn't have to see you… erm, fraternising."

Sirius sighed, the exasperation etched into every line of his face as he tugged at his own hair. "I get all that rot, I do. But honestly—read the bloody room, yeah? We were trying to keep it quiet. Now I can already hear the howler Mother's going to send after Reg inevitably hears the sordid details through the Hogwarts gossip chain and writes home about how I'm—yet again—dragging the Black family name through the mud."

Hermione took pity on him, patting his hand. "Maybe it's not so bad. If you're lucky, people will get bored of talking about it in a week or two, and… well, maybe it'll help Remus get more comfortable with everything being out in the open?"

Sirius sighed again, his expression softening. "I just wanted it to be on our terms, you know? Not broadcasted by Wormtail in the Great Hall like some kind of Quidditch match announcement."

James patted his friend's shoulder. "Look, Padfoot, it's out there now. And if anyone's got the charm to handle it, it's you and Moony. Just tell him you're proud of it. Because we are. And for what it's worth," he added with a grin, "I'd pay good Galleons to see McGonagall's face if you decide to flaunt it a bit in her class."

Sirius let out a reluctant laugh, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Let's just hope the howler isn't too ear-shattering."

Hermione grinned. "I solemnly swear to Incendio every single Howler your mother sends the second it arrives."

That got a real laugh from Sirius, who rolled his eyes, finally relaxing. "You know what? I just might take you up on that."

The weight of his worry seemed to ease, his usual confidence returning as he relaxed back into his typical easy grin. His gaze flicked between Hermione and James, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So… are you two lovebirds done fighting then? Got it all out of your systems with a 'good talk'? Don't think I didn't notice."

Hermione shot him an exasperated look. "We weren't fighting. We just had… a difference of opinion."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, smirking. "A disagreement so bad you holed up in your dorm all day, sulking? Sure, that sounds just like a… 'discussion'."

"I was actually sick, Sirius," Hermione said, crossing her arms with a huff.

Sirius still looked sceptical. "Alright, if you say so."

"If you don't believe me, go ask Madam Pomfrey," Hermione replied, giving him a look daring him to try.

"Padfoot, give it a rest." James rolled his eyes but couldn't stop a soft smile from tugging at his mouth as he glanced at Hermione. "Everything's fine now. More than fine." He leaned in, giving Hermione such a sappy, love-struck look that Sirius immediately pretended to gag.

"Enough, enough," Sirius groaned, laughing. "Spare me the goo-goo eyes. Anyway, are you two done stuffing your faces? We should head back before we get caught."

"Good idea," Hermione agreed, standing up. She hesitated for a moment. "Is Remus still up?"

Sirius's expression turned gentler. "Nah, he crashed about an hour ago. No matter how much better it is with us there, the moon still drains him."

Hermione nodded, her expression softening with sympathy. "Yeah, I know. I'll talk to him tomorrow. He might still be on edge, but I'll get him comfortable with the idea of everyone knowing."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, looking impressed but doubtful. "And how are you going to manage that?"

"Best friend magic," Hermione replied with a wink.

They laughed, and James slung an arm around her shoulders as they made their way toward the door. The promise of the dawn, of fresh starts and strengthened bonds, lingered in the air around them, and they all felt a comforting certainty that, together, they could face whatever came next.