The first thing she sensed was how soft the surface she was on. A breeze carrying the sweet fragrance of lavender greeted her the second, and she realized that it was hard to breathe. Her eyes opened.
She couldn't breathe.
"Miss! Miss Maddy is awake! Oh, Winky must tell the mistress!"
She couldn't care less whose voice it was, screaming at the background; she couldn't breathe properly!
"Maddy? Oh, oh, Maddy, thank Merlin! Are you feeling better, sweetheart?"
She didn't notice that someone had taken a seat near her. She was careless. She opened her mouth to ask them to stay away, only to feel how dry her throat is. The first words she intended to say changed easily.
"Water, please," her voice was hoarse and odd.
A hand held her head straight and a glass was brought upon her mouth. She gulped eagerly.
"I'll call the healer, okay?" Someone spoke to her again. "Rest, sweetie."
Time went by after that. She didn't try to see the people around her, or even try to figure out where she was. She focused on her breathing. In. And out. Repeat. Meal time came and went, and a pretty woman, with a voice as soft as silk and the bluest eyes she had ever seen, fed her potions after each meal.
She coughed mucus often. Her fever went up and down, but the healer said she was better. She still breathed in difficulty.
After some time, Hermione finally realized that she was small. Too small, she was basically a toddler.
It turned out she was indeed a toddler.
The lady was the child's mother, and the child's name was Madeline, or Maddy for short. And Maddy had been sick for over two months, surviving only barely when her fever went beyond what could be treated. Hogwarts sent her to a dead child's body, Hermione remembered it clearly now. She was supposed to prevent a catastrophe, and now she was wearing a dead child's skin.
How gruesome.
"Sweetie?" The child's mother called her. "How do you feel?"
Hermione kept her silence, guiltily avoiding the lady's gaze.
It was not that she was being purposively rude. She would love to thank the lady for her great care while she was bedridden. But Hermione was now a toddler. A three years old, she thought. She did not know how a three years old would talk.
So she chose silence.
.
For the following months, Maddy was contained in her room. The lady, or her supposed Mother now, often visits her, but she was also busy taking care of another child. Another toddler, she deduced.
The child's father never revealed his existence.
Left alone with her time, in the first year of Hermione Granger's new life, she spent it exercising.
After a year of going on a run, Hermione had come to realize the advantages of one's body fitness. Harry and Ron were hardly tired after running away from snatchers, their breathing stayed even at the end of it. She always ended up wheezing. Her room, painted in peach and blue, was spacious enough that she could run around. She played pretend with an Abraxan doll, running with her hand high in the air holding the doll up and down. Her breathing was getting better, much to her relief. She also stretched and moved objects in her room, regaining the muscle strength that had waned due to being bedridden for a long time.
After a year, she finally felt good.
Mother always got teared up while she was watching her playing. Hermione tried to be child-like, but it was too hard for her. She had forgotten how to be a child.
"Do you want another Abraxan, Maddy?" Mother smiled, her eyes soft as she asked her one afternoon. "You always play with the Abraxan."
Hermione shook her head with a small, polite, smile. "No, thank you."
The lady flinched, and Hermione just knew that she did it wrong again. Would a four year old want another Abraxan doll? It was too late to change her answer now. Oh, why did Hogwarts send her to a toddler's body?
There was another thing that Hermione did for a year, and that was avoiding any thoughts about the reason why she was there, trapped in some kid's body.
She didn't forget about her bestfriends, of course. They always slipped into her mind at the most insignificant things in everything she did now. Like how the weather was nice enough for Harry to fly, or how the warmth of her room reminded her of Ron's warm sweater that she liked to lean onto. But the weight of all the battles they encountered were not something she actively tried to remember. The last years of her past life was particularly easy for her mind to unconsciously suppress it, and as she now had her illness to battle, she tried to focus on getting better first.
She couldn't complete her mission while being sick.
(Of course it didn't stop horrible memories from haunting her in her sleep. Mother had another thing to worry about her now, what with her nightmares constantly disturbing her sleep.)
Madeline's body was mainly healthy after a year, and Mother gave her alphabet and children books when she was a little over four.
(She pressed down the guilt for calling another woman mother. Hermione didn't deserve getting another mother after what she did to hers, but Madeline's mother deserved to get her daughter. She would play the part.)
Hermione pretended to learn the alphabet. Hermione Granger, a certified bookworm and notorious swot, pretended to learn the alphabet.
It didn't work, of course. She started reading in three months. Hermione Granger had started reading before she was six either, so she thought there was no harm done there.
After that, Mother started bringing more books.
Now exposed with magical stories, Hermione finally had reason to start experimenting with her magic. She knew that Hogwarts told her that the child, Madeline, was meant to attend Hogwarts, which means that she was magical, but Hermione would very much like the reassurance of having her magic back. She tried to bring a book to her with her magic, something Hermione Granger had always been able to do. In fact, bringing books to her body was Hermione Granger's first accidental magic (besides burning a classmate's dress once, but she didn't talk about it). It needed a lot of concentration at the beginning, but Madelaine could finally do it with ease by the time she was 5.
With her body growing bigger, running around her room felt a bit awkward lately, though she still did her exercises. She never asked to go outside her room. Her room already had windows that allowed fresh air in, so she was content. But, she must admit that she was curious why she was forbidden to go outside her room.
The answer came four months after her 6th birthday.
"He is almost 5, Bartemius," the sound barely could be heard from her door. It was early morning, and Hermione had just woken up to do her exercise before she caught the whispering voice. The whispers continued, "The chance is lower for him to catch what Maddy did. And Maddy has been perfectly healthy! Perhaps, if you would visit her..."
"Wait until Barty is 6," a stern voice replied stiffly. "We can't take any chances."
Hearing the other's voice was even more of a shock than hearing the reason for her confinement for her. Madeline had a father after all. An overprotective father, at that. And that was not even the most shocking news either.
Barty. Bartemius.
It could not be a coincidence that Maddy's father had the same name as Barty Crouch Senior, the one from the Department of International Magical Cooperation in the future, and that he had a son named Barty, as in Barty Crouch Junior, the death eater that paraded as Moody in her fourth year. There was another way to confirm this.
"Winky."
A pop appeared, and along with it, a house elf, skinny with eyes too big and dopey, and a nose with its tip downward. Hermione knew her. She was thinner, and obviously did not have a drinking problem now, but Winky was the exact Winky she knew from the future, Hermione realized now. The one who formerly belonged to the Crouch family.
Crouch.
Hogwarts sent her to Barty crouch.
No, that's wrong. Hogwarts sent her to a dead child, and Barty Crouch certainly didn't die as a child. This Madeline girl, however-
She shook her head.
There was no need to overthink this. Hogwarts just sent her to a dead child in a time that enabled her to prevent the catalyst of the catastrophe.
Which would happen in about 14 years.
She exhaled shakily, her eyes still wide in realization. She walked slowly towards her bed, eventually throwing her body on it before she could fall down.
Why did Hogwarts send her to this time? She thought it would be just another time-traveling mission, like when she and Harry used a time turner to save Sirius.
But no, Hermione had to play pretend, in a dead girl's body, living in a house with a future death eater.
Hogwarts had certainly gone mad.
Perhaps it was the Horcrux, influencing it. Remembering it now, Hogwarts did say that they were becoming tainted by the seconds. Had this always been a suicide mission?
She massaged the bridge of her nose. That was just her pessimist side talking. This wouldn't be a suicide mission, she would make sure of it.
She just had to be careful.
"Miss Maddy?" Winky's shaky voice pulled her from her thoughts. She forgot Winky was still there. "Is Miss Maddy feeling ill?"
She shook her head. "No, Winky. It's nothing. You can return to your other work now."
Winky hesitated for a moment before disappearing.
Seeing a connection to the future (or her past, this was a bit confusing) Hermione felt like she was urged to start organizing a list of things that she had to do. Hogwarts explicitly said that her mission was to prevent the tragedy of Hogwarts turning into a horcrux, by preventing any unaccounted horcruxes being made.
That means preventing 1981 Halloween night ending up the way it was.
She could try to expose Pettigrew from the very beginning. With this path, she would have to gain the Order's trust.
She frowned.
It wouldn't be enough. The prophecy basically pushed the meeting between Voldemort and Harry. Harry would always be marked. Voldemort would always be defeated.
To prevent any unaccounted horcruxes... Hogwarts said that each of the horcruxes pulled what was left in Voldemort's soul, breaking it apart. Perhaps... She could destroy all the horcruxes except one. Then Harry could be the only accidental horcrux made that day.
She smiled at her plan. This was it.
But then she let her head fall to her hands, realizing how horrible the plan was. With this plan, she basically doomed Harry to be Voldemort's target once again. He will be raised as an orphan again, being raised by Dumbledore and the rest of the magical world as the boy-who-lived again.
Oh, how she detested them for it, especially Dumbledore. The old headmaster knew from the beginning that Harry was a horcrux, she was sure of it. He knew exactly what that diary was, and he knew why Voldemort easily entered Harry's mind back in fifth year.
She shook her head. There was no time to waste on that now, it would come up later. This plan was good for now.
Then, the Horcruxes. There were seven horcruxes known to her now.
The Diary, the ring, the locket, the cup, the diadem, Harry, and Nagini. She remembered that Nagini had just been made a horcrux after Voldemort's return, and Harry wouldn't be made a horcrux until that Halloween night, so there were five horcruxes by the time Voldemort was defeated the first time.
Now, how should she acquire them and which horcrux would she leave for Harry to find?
She took her notebook and her quill, and started to write.
The Diary was held by Lucius Malfoy, at Malfoy Manor. It was only by luck that Mr. Malfoy gave it to Ginny, enabling Harry to destroy it. This time, she would have to sneak into Malfoy Manor.
She closed her eyes. The memories of the place in that fateful day threatened to emerge, the shadow of the torture curse's pain still felt fresh under her skin. Unconsciously, her hand reached for the once scarred arm. She did not need this right now. She was fine. She was safe. Inhale. Exhale. There was no Belatrix Lestrange here.
She pushed on.
The ring, Harry told her, was recovered by Dumbledore from a shack owned by the Gaunts. Little Hangleton was the name of the village, she believed. It was also in this village that Voldemort was resurrected. Could it be retrieved without Voldemort knowing its absence by the time of his resurrection? This horcrux would be quite easy to reach, but also had a great risk of exposing her horcrux hunt to Voldemort...
Then, the locket. Regulus Black took it in 1979, date unknown. The protective measures were inferies, a dreadful potion, a boat with passenger limit, and a blood sacrifice. The cave's location was unknown. Kreacher held the locket after that. To acquire this horcrux, she would either have to make Regulus Black take her to the cave, or find a way to contact Kreacher after he holds it.
She blinked. The second option would mean that Regulus died again.
She rubbed her face, pausing yet again.
Regulus Black was a defected Death eater. He could be good. Should she try to save him? But what would happen in the future if Regulus Black was added into it? Should she let him be?
She sighed, going back to her note. Undecided, she wrote.
Next, the cup. Bellatrix's vault. Protective measures: thief's downfall, dragon, goblins. Would need to be handled with more subtlety than before.
She smiled, fondly reminiscing. Everything went wrong that day.
Last, the Diadem. Room of Reguirement's lost and hidden things room. This one would definitely be on her list.
She put down the list, satisfied with how she organized it. Looking at the list now, she pondered on the death eaters related to it. Belatrix, Malfoy, Regulus Black... how would she plan against them? She didn't even know anything about them at this time...
She looked up, the ceiling of her room felt higher than it was. Or perhaps she just felt smaller than she was.
Her body was six.
She sighed.
It didn't matter. Those death eaters didn't matter. She had her plan, and she would finish her mission.
.
Hermione went on with her life, or Maddy's life she supposed. She started practicing magic she wanted. She could summon objects besides books now, and she could also make her bluebell flame. Though, it was now harder for her to make Hermione Granger's signature bluebell flame. Perhaps it was due to the lack of wand or the lack of practice, but she often conjured normal fire rather than the bluebell flame at the beginning.
Other than practicing magic, she continued her exercise routine, making it longer and harder. Her penmanship was trained to be impeccable by mother, and mother also gave her etiquette lessons befitting of a pureblood heiress.
(Potter's mudblood getting pureblood lessons! Voldemort would be frothing at the mouth!)
In summary, life has been dandy. She had her plan, she enjoyed a break, she studied new things.
Of course, like any other of her plans, her plan died, this time it died before she even started to execute it.
The collapse of her plan started on the sixth of May, 1968. Two pairs of bright blue eyes stared at one another, one of them tilted his head curiously, big eyes glinting in the sunlight.
His hair was straight, unlike her curly hair, but it has the same fair color as hers. There was no peculiar tick currently occupying his face, his tongue free from trying to taste the blood off his face. His cheeks were... his cheeks were-!
It was too adorable to even describe.
"Say hi to your sister, Barty dear," Mother pushed, her hand noticeably soothing the boy with a circle gesture on his back.
Barty scrunched his nose at her, his eyes narrowing. "Are you going to make me sick?"
The corner of her lips was pulled up on its own. So that's how a six years old act, no wonder mother flinched every time she did polite things. Horrified, Mother pulled Barty, making his eyes meeting hers.
"Barty. Maddy is healthy now," she explained gently. "She won't get you sick anymore. Come on, greet your sister."
He seemed to be confused by the change of events. His father must be continuously telling him how Madeline was sick and to be avoided. But it was Barty's sixth birthday, so per Father's words, Mother must have decided that it was time for her children to meet each other. She could see how Mother had been waiting for this day. The least she could do was to treat the boy nicely. It helped that he was just a six years old boy, one with a sweet voice and chubby cheeks. She smiled. "Hi."
"Hi," he returned it. There was a blotch of red on his cheeks now.
Now what should she do? The Maddy Mother knew was a polite girl, one who had never met anyone beside her mother and Winky the elf. Mother also had been drilling her etiquette, so she was left with only one choice. "I'm Maddy," she curtsied. "A pleasure to meet you, Barty."
Barty blinked at her. "You're not that big. Mother said you're my big sister." Losing interest with the not-so-big big sister, he turned to Mother. "Can I play now?"
Conflicts seemed to rage in Mother's eyes. Mother must have wanted their meeting to last longer than it was, making them get along as siblings often did. She supposed Mother had been thinking of this meeting for years, begging father to allow Barty to meet his sister.
Hermione Granger was not one to disappoint a person who cared deeply for her, so she tried. "Mother. May I play in the garden with Barty?"
The reaction was immediate. Mother brightened considerably, her eyes soft on her. "Of course, dear. Perhaps we can have a picnic too."
So they spent the day outdoors. It was the first time Madeline was allowed to go outside, so she ran around, greeting everything around her.
"Hi, grass. Hi, trees. Hi, big yellow flowers. Hi, lavender. Hi, roses. Hi, leaves. Hi, wind!" Her laughter rang, filling the vast garden. Barty trailed behind her, his sweet voice echoing her greetings and accompanying her in her laughs.
Perhaps he thought that this was a game. Maybe this was a game. Hermione Granger had never felt this free for years, as her memories of her run haunted her in every sleep and her current skin, Madeline, had been bedridden before and confined to avoid infecting her little brother from the same illness. But now she could freely yell, laugh, and run around a pretty garden. The air was even sweeter out here in the garden, and the wind brushed her skin more fiercely, the morning dew on the grass was cold to the touch as the grass itself tickled her hands.
"Becareful, children," Mother spoke from afar. There was a picnic blanket now spread in front of her, and a basket full of snacks and sweets ready to be unpacked. "Don't run too fast, we do not want you to trip and hurt yourself."
Hermione started a game with Barty. They were collecting fallen leaves, and whoever got more leaves won. Since it was spring, there were not that many fallen leaves to pick up. They had to squint really hard to catch the sight of it. Barty started asking questions in the middle of their game.
"Why do the leaves fall?"
"Because they have turned yellow and grown too old. Old leaves are too weak to hold on to the branches. Sometimes the wind shakes them too hard and they simply fall."
"Why do butterflies fly away when I go near them?" He asked again.
"They are gentle creatures. They are afraid of moves that are too fast and too big. Their wings are brittle, so they have to be careful or else they would hurt their wings."
"What's brittle?"
"They break easily."
Barty stared at her in awe during the whole game, and a trickle of warmth entered her chest. His evident awe only made it easier for her to like him. Hermione Granger loved it when her knowledge was properly appreciated.
"So you do know a lot of things," he whispered as they finished their game. By the look of it, Barty won if only by a small margin. She gave him a gift, a horned slug that she found under the bush. They put it in a jar with a couple of leaves, and Hermione told Barty of its magical properties and its use on potion, such as its soothing nature in cure for boils potion. He took in every word she said with eagerness. Leaning his body to her, his big blue eyes filled her sight, "Mother said big sister teaches you stuff. Can you teach me more?"
She took in his awe with a wonder of her own.
Hermione knew that she was flawed. Her bossy-ness always drove people crazy, and she was a know-it-all who liked to impart her knowledge to everyone there was, unasked and unwanted. Over the years, she first grew worse before she finally learned to control her tongue in fifth year (mainly because the situation desperately called for it.) She became aware of it, she learned to be insecure about it.
But looking at the boy in front of her now (her little brother. Hermione's parents were never able to conceive again after her birth, as Helen Granger had her in her late 30s.
But Hermione has always wanted a sibling. A younger one to take care of,) Hermione's throat goes dry.
Looking at her little brother, Hermione Granger's heart was snatched.