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Preface

Welcome! This is my first venture into writing for the Harry Potter fandom. I've enjoyed so many incredible fics on FFN/AO3 that it's absolutely daunting to put my personal musings out there where all of the greats live, but I couldn't resist sharing the story I've wanted to see.

We'll begin at the end of PoA and slowly diverge from canon, eventually becoming a complete rewrite spanning the rest of the series. In the interest of trying to stay true to the characters and canon events already in motion, this will be slow build/slow burn. There are a lot of familiar events from Hermione's POV as we ramp up into new territory. The M rating will not be leaned into heavily until later chapters and any applicable warnings will be posted in the notes (I don't foresee many). It is worth noting that this story features a complete ensemble cast, and is meant to feel somewhat like the source material.

My goal is to update at least once a month. When I'm not reading/writing, I have an active toddler and foster kittens with various needs, but I'll try to give advance notice if there will be any extended breaks.

Please note, this is all just for fun.

Thanks for dropping in!

-S

Cover artwork commissioned from the lovely and incredibly-talented Yorqia (on Tumblr and Instagram).

...

Hermione lay in her four-poster, scrubbing at bleary eyes with the heels of her palms. Judging by the sounds of soft snoring still filling the dormitory, she was the first to wake — not an unusual occurrence in the slightest.

She opened her eyes, blinking away the last remnants of sleep until the world came into focus. A soft dawn haze had already seeped into the air, the sun's first rays transforming the dust motes swirling above her face into tiny, glittering stars. A quick glance to the lancet windows confirmed the early hour; the sun had only just managed to climb over the rugged outline of the mountainside below.

Unsuccessful at suppressing a yawn, Hermione pulled herself from the covers and reached for her nightstand. Her fingers closed around the smooth expanse of vine wood, the wand's familiarity in her hand filling her with a warmth that even the promise of a day full of sunshine couldn't hope to match.

A whispered Summoning Spell later and Hermione, toiletry bag and dressing gown in hand, tiptoed carefully out of the dormitory, beginning to mentally review her upcoming day. Thankfully, exams were over and she could concentrate fully on this last day of classes before the end of term.

Transfiguration was first. And Arithmancy of course, courtesy of her time-turner. Defence Against the Dark Arts was a free period now that Professor Lupin had been outed as a werewolf and forced to resign. After the losing both his chances at an Order of Merlin and his revenge for some kind of enmity of old, Professor Snape had promptly informed his entire House of Lupin's true nature. Privately, Hermione was relieved that her last Potions class had been yesterday, as Snape had turned especially nasty towards Harry, and by extension, her and Ron, since he suspected them in helping Sirius escape.

That left only Astronomy later that evening.

Her mind already halfway there, Hermione gave over entirely to contemplating the events of a several weeks ago as she scrubbed her teeth and carefully brushed through her tangled curls. Against impossible odds, she and Harry had been able to use the time-turner to save both Sirius and Buckbeak from a terrible fate. Much like sneaking past a giant three-headed dog, or even meeting the eyes of a basilisk in a hand mirror, the stakes had been high, but the results more than worth it.

If only they had been able to stop Pettigrew, too, from escaping in order to clear Sirius's name... but that was merely wishful thinking. Hermione herself had been the one to caution Harry against interfering with anything in the past beyond their mission to save two innocent lives, and she maintained that it was best course of action. Any further changes and they would have risked everything, possibly even the very lives they had managed to save.

She, Harry, and Ron still frequently found themselves discussing everything that had taken place that fateful evening, both with wonderment and with heavy relief. They and Dumbledore were the only ones who knew what had really happened that night.

The time-turner Hermione currently had tucked into the front of her sweater had been an integral piece in allowing those events to happen, but she still found herself looking forward to handing it in. She had thought about this decision carefully over the past few weeks (perhaps months, if she were being honest), and her current course load was simply not sustainable any longer. While glad for the experience as a whole, her zeal to take every single elective offered had been satisfied.

Giving up Muggle Studies out of necessity was regrettable — she appreciated learning about the world she grew up in from the perspective of the magical community — but she would be able to have a normal course load without it.

Giving up Divination was far easier. The subject was absolute rubbish. Or... the class was, at the very least. Trelawney may be only slightly less of a fraud than Hermione originally suspected, but one or two real predictions over however many years hardly made the woman any more reliable. Harry had eventually recounted what happened with Trelawney after his Divination exam, and he said even Dumbledore agreed it had probably been a foretelling.

Regardless, Hermione was still a sceptic. The future was complicated, determined by an incalculable number of choices. Who could truly know it with any certainty?

Morning routine complete, Hermione made her way back to the dormitory to switch out for her school bag, then descended to the common room to wait for Harry and Ron to wake for breakfast. She chose to settle in one of her favourite squashy armchairs — Crookshanks quickly joining to curl himself in her lap — and flipped studiously through a particularly difficult chapter in her Ancient Runes textbook.

As the sun crept upwards, the common room began filling gradually with her peers. A low, buzzing sort of hum took up around the room, the excitement almost palpable as the summer term marched to a close and plans for the upcoming holiday were made.

"Hey, Hermione!" came Ron's voice. Hermione looked up to see him dropping into a chair across from her, red hair still tousled messily from sleep.

"Morning, Hermione," Harry echoed cheerfully, arriving just behind Ron to perch on the arm of her chair and scratch Crookshanks behind the ears.

"Good morning," she replied with an easy smile for the pair of them. "Ready to head down for breakfast?"

"You know I am," Ron said, patting his growling stomach. Then he looked pointedly at the textbook in her lap. "I'd say I'm surprised you're still studying on the last day of classes, but..." He trailed off with a shrug, not bothering to hide the teasing smile playing around the edges of his mouth.

She made a face at him and he outright grinned, shaking his head fondly at her.

Harry chuckled along good-naturedly before tipping his head towards the exit. "Shall we? I'm famished, and I wouldn't put it past McGonagall to take off a few points if we're late. Even today."

Together, they climbed through the portrait hole and made their way to the Great Hall, only taking one small detour when one of the staircases refused to move; the castle could be temperamental about the end of the school year. As usual, a hearty breakfast awaited them at the Gryffindor table, and they didn't hesitate to tuck in.

"So, Hermione," Ron started, his words muffled through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, "do you get to keep the… you know, the thing… over the summer until next year?" His throat bobbed as he managed to swallow.

Hermione tried not to wrinkle her nose, shaking her head instead. "Actually, I've been thinking…"

As she informed the boys about her decision to drop Muggle Studies and hand in the time-turner tomorrow morning, Harry and Ron wore identical expressions of surprise.

"It's driving me mad," she explained, "and without those classes I'll be able to have a normal schedule again. I can't stand another year like this one."

She was met with stunned silence.

"Well," Harry finally ventured at Hermione's raised brow, "at least we had it for Sirius and Buckbeak."

"Yeah, although I still can't believe you didn't tell us about it before," Ron added grumpily.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know I couldn't," she admonished, laying down her napkin and drawing her bag up from beneath the table. "Anyway, let's get going. I'm anxious to ask Professor McGonagall if she'll release exam results early."

Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall would not release their marks before breakfast the next day, and Harry and Ron had the audacity to look amused when Hermione informed them that she didn't mind waiting at all, actually — she could be as patient as anyone else. Though perhaps she'd stop by again tomorrow morning on her way to breakfast. Just in case Professor McGonagall could use some assistance distributing the marks.

Before she knew it, Transfiguration and Arithmancy were over, and Hermione had made use of her time-turner for the last time. Suddenly, the hourglass around her neck no longer felt as heavy. Soon it would be one more responsibility lifted from her shoulders.

With their remaining free periods, Hermione, Harry, and Ron spent a leisurely afternoon having a stroll around the lake, then enjoying a final visit to Hagrid's. Hermione's earlier anxiety over exam scores (she had gone back to finish off that Boggart... hadn't she?) faded easily beneath a haze of sunshine and the pleasantly heavy, dream-like quality to the air. For the first time in a long time, she felt content.

They made the long trek up to the Astronomy classroom after dinner. At first glance, the class appeared to be the same as that on any other day: telescopes assembled, star charts laid out, and everyone spread out in small groups across the breadth of the tower. It was quickly apparent, however, that no one was really paying attention to their classwork.

Lavender and Parvati giggled quietly over a copy of the latest Witch Weekly magazine peeking out from under their charts. Neville was fiddling with his eyepiece, but his gaze was elsewhere, possibly down over the grounds. Across the tower, Dean and Seamus were even managing to hide their game of Exploding Snap somewhat decently.

For her part, Professor Sinistra was either oblivious to the students' inattention or didn't care, as it looked like the same issue of Witch Weekly lay open on her small folding desk.

Hermione talked quietly with Harry and Ron throughout class, joining their conversation in between pauses to make a careful notation on her chart or peer through her telescope. When she eventually noticed everyone else packing up, she labelled a final star and gathered her own materials.

"I'll be down in just a minute," she told Harry and Ron, "I need to return the orrery I borrowed to the store room."

They nodded and turned to follow the rest of the class to the spiral staircase leading back to the castle corridor, while Hermione hurried across to the opposite set of stairs to take her down beneath the main floor.

The area below was littered with a jumble of old telescopes and other astronomy-related apparatus. With the model in hand, she crossed the floor quickly to open the iron-ringed door to the storage closet. She stretched high on her toes, just barely able to slide the model back into place on its dusty shelf, before turning to exit.

Hermione hadn't managed more than a single step out of the store room when the world was suddenly rent apart in a blaze of white light.

It was indescribable. It was intolerable. It was downright impossible. It was a duality of sensation, overwhelming in power and nothing short of chaotic. She couldn't breathe. For what seemed a millennia — a millisecond? — Hermione was being pulled apart, to the very fibres of her being, and yet crushed beneath the weight of the universe. Despite the whiteness around her, she couldn't see. Despite the darkness that consumed her, she couldn't hear. The pressure of it all threatened to condense her to nonexistence, the weightlessness of it all seemed to tear at her very soul. Then came a horrible, deafening roar. Hermione opened her mouth to scream and—

Everything was righted as suddenly as it had come apart.

Hermione stood stock-still, eyes closed and chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath. When she opened her eyes again, her vision was doubled and she immediately stumbled to her knees, a hand pressed heavily to her abdomen as she tried desperately not to sick up everything she'd eaten for dinner. She needed to get up, she needed to get help, she moved a hand out to crawl forward—

The next thing she knew, Hermione was flat on her back, staring blankly up at the wooden-slatted floor above. Biting back a groan, she forced her weakened limbs to work, getting carefully into a sitting position and blinking rapidly to clear her vision.

The room around her slowly came into focus, deceptively innocent in comparison to what she'd just experienced. Had she imagined it all? The place looked entirely the same as it had when she'd first entered.

A flash of gold caught the corner of her eye, but Hermione had only begun to turn her head when she instead caught sight of her time-turner lying on the ground ahead of her.

Closer inspection revealed that the necklace chain had broken off from one of the two loops used to secure it to the hourglass. Was the device malfunctioning? Was that what had caused it? Professor McGonagall had assured her the time-turner was safe if used properly, but time itself was no small thing to harness. Hermione quickly checked herself over for injuries, finding none. And her surroundings still remained the same. Quiet. Surely if anyone else had experienced what she just had, there would be an audible commotion.

Hermione reached out a hand to pick up the fallen time-turner, but hesitated halfway. Did the hourglass look sort of… misty? What if it wasn't safe? She considered leaving it there on the ground. She could always find Professor McGonagall in the morning and explain the situation. Though, it seemed irresponsible to leave such a highly-regulated object lying about...

A short, manic sort of giggle bubbled from her lips as she realised her own foolishness. Hermione was nothing if not pragmatic, and she had used the time-turner all year without incident. Likely this little episode was simply the culmination of being overworked. She was absolutely knackered thanks to her course load this year, not to mention exams and the whole helping-Harry-save-the-day-again business. Exhaustion had been her constant friend almost since day one of term, and she had finally let it get to her.

Hermione snatched impatiently at the time-turner, another wave of dizziness washing over her as she made contact. The world plunged briefly to black, the air turning stale and icy-cold. She caught herself on all fours, face only inches from the cool stone floor, and shot the time-turner in her hand a stern look. Now more than ever Hermione was glad that she would be rid of the wretched thing in less than a day. She stood shakily, dusting her hands and knees and straightening her robes. Bed was sounding better by the minute.

Voices overhead gave her pause halfway back up the staircase. It sounded like Dumbledore had come up to the Astronomy Tower for some reason. And… Malfoy? Thoroughly confused, Hermione crept quietly up the first few steps until she could peek out over the upper floor. What she saw had her immediately ducking her head back down.

It was the sight of Malfoy's face that had left her wrongfooted and with a sudden desire to retreat to safety. Something was very, very wrong.

Malfoy wasn't wearing his trademark smirk nor his oft-used sneer. He looked absolutely terrified. And more than that, he looked... different, somehow.

Bewildered, Hermione tried to make as little noise as possible as she positioned herself to see Malfoy and Dumbledore through the slats in the floor above. A greenish glare from somewhere overhead painted the scene.

Malfoy and Dumbledore faced each other from across the tower. Malfoy was trembling faintly, and his arm was extended like he was... no, not like he was, Malfoy was drawing his wand on Dumbledore. How had she not noticed that before?

Dumbledore himself certainly should have noticed this too, but instead of matching Malfoy's stance, he only smiled before opening his mouth to speak.

"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer," Dumbledore said gently.

Hermione felt numb to her toes. What was happening? In her shock, she missed the next part of their conversation, but thought she heard Ron's name inexplicably mentioned. And upon closer inspection, Dumbledore appeared to be struggling to stay upright. If he had his wand, he didn't have it out.

Clapping a hand to her forehead, Hermione checked for signs of a fever. None to be found. Maybe she ought to go to the hospital wing anyway and allow Madam Pomfrey to look her over. She certainly felt sick enough with all that had happened over the last few minutes (hours?), and hallucinating this badly likely pointed to some magical malady.

Hermione shook her head to clear it, chastising herself for letting her attention wander at a time like this. She refocused on Dumbledore and Malfoy.

"I'm not afraid!" Malfoy snarled at Dumbledore, his wand arm trembling harder. "It's you who should be scared!"

"But why?" Dumbledore replied. "I don't think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe. So tell me, while we wait for your friends… how did you smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it."

Hermione listened intently while Malfoy relayed a story about mending something called a vanishing cabinet, and subsequently using it to bring Death Eaters into the school. Death Eaters... She'd heard that term used to describe Sirius before. Voldemort supporters.

Hermione's knuckles turned white as her grip tightened around the railing of the staircase.

The conversation above turned to Malfoy's other attempts to murder their Headmaster this year, attempts of which Dumbledore apparently knew about the whole time. Had she really been so busy as to not notice that? Hermione's focus drifted again as she studied Malfoy and Dumbledore, something suddenly becoming clear. Both looked older, she realised. Malfoy's hair was different than she'd seen it yesterday, shorter and styled more casually. And had he grown so much in a single night? She narrowed her eyes, next studying his unusual choice of attire. He had doffed his school robes for something much more formal. If she didn't know better, Hermione would almost say that that something came close to resembling a crisp, black Muggle suit.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, looked disturbingly weak and frail, and one of his hands was entirely black and shrivelled. He leaned against the ramparts for support, as if they were the only thing keeping him upright—

The sound of her own name jolted her harshly back to the conversation.

"—Mudblood Granger, as well, I heard her talking in the library about Filch not recognizing potions…" Malfoy was saying.

The insult didn't even register. Hermione furiously wracked her memory to recall herself saying any such thing, but she'd never...

The pieces flew together. The disorienting sensation she had experienced, Malfoy's and Dumbledore's changed appearances… Had the time-turner taken her into the future?

It was impossible. Absolutely impossible. The future wasn't written like the past. And the power of the time-turner was limited — it couldn't go back more than a few hours at a time. Hermione appeared to be years into the future.

She was brought swiftly out of her positing when a huge, resounding bang echoed from across the far side of the tower followed by a chorus of shouts. The weak strobe of flashing wandfire was just barely visibly from her vantage point, but the sounds of fighting were unmistakable. Hermione huddled in on herself, hoping she was hidden well enough not to be spotted, but closing a fist around the handle of her wand in her pocket anyway.

The beginnings of panic welled deep in her belly. Hermione's eyes flew back towards Dumbledore, her only hope, still looking weak and wandless against the edge of the tower. She'd just decided on taking her chances by locking herself in the store room below when one last glance at Malfoy had her standing rooted to the spot and the breath stalling in her lungs; he was deathly pale now, his eyes burning with a desperation unlike anything she'd ever witnessed.

"I haven't got any options!" Malfoy spat, his voice breaking at the end. "I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!"

If Hermione had felt numb before, she was solid ice now.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply, but before Hermione could hear his response, there was something tugging her — gently this time — and time seemed to slow. In the span of a blink, Malfoy and Dumbledore had disappeared as neatly as if by a Vanishing spell.

Hermione sat down hard on the stairs to catch her breath. Had she just done the impossible and travelled forward in time, then come back? Wait... had she come back to the right time? She jumped up quickly, took the stairs two at a time, and ran hard for the corridor. Harry and Ron would be there. They would be.

She rounded the corner and nearly cried in relief.

"There you are," Harry said, stepping aside to avoid getting bowled over as she skidded to a halt in front of him and Ron.

"What kept you?" Ron added, raising a brow. "We were just about to come looking to see if you'd decided to get a head start for next year!"

"You wouldn't believe what I…" Hermione began. "Wait, how long was I gone?"

"Ron's only joking," Harry answered with a grin, using a finger to slide his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You were only a few minutes more than we expected."

Harry's grin slid into a slight frown as he took in her dishevelled appearance. "Is everything alright, Hermione?"

Ron looked her over, too, concern wrinkling his brow as he realised she had practically sprinted into the hallway.

"I..." Hermione trailed off, unsure how to respond. She needed time to think. She wasn't even sure what she had seen was real.

"I'm alright," she finished softly, "just exhausted. I think this year is really catching up to me." She managed a tremulous smile. "Let's get to bed. Tomorrow's the last day of term, and I want to enjoy the feast."

Harry and Ron didn't look quite convinced, but they voiced agreement and began planning out how they might spend their last day while making their way back to Gryffindor Tower.

As they walked, Hermione surreptitiously slipped the time-turner into her bag, determined not to handle it again until she was handing it over to McGonagall in the morning. When they reached the common room, she bade the boys goodnight and immediately made for bed. She truly did need sleep, but had a shrewd suspicion she would have trouble finding it.