Chapter Text
'Time isn't the main thing,
It is the only thing'
- Miles Davis
-x-
Normally on a Sunday she liked a lie-in.
Lavendar and Parvarti were much the same, and as the only three Gryffindor girls in their year they had adapted to one another's sleeping patterns. They all liked to have a lazy Sunday morning, hiding beneath their curtains until at least 10am.
Hermione was always the first to get up and would creep from the room. Sure, her and her roommates didn't have much in common, but they all respected the sanctity of the Sunday lie-in, today was no different.
And yet, as Hermione felt herself wake, as she let out a lazy yawn and stretched her arms, eyes still shut, as she tried not to think on the crushing weight of her NEWTS or the stress of 6th year, as she rolled over, onto her back, rolling her neck, she felt something was … off.
That was the best way to describe it. She didn't feel bad or uncomfortable, but things felt different. Her bed was a touch harder, the light trying to escape the curtain was doing a worse job, and the room was darker, and the pillows were plumper, far more of them.
She opened her eyes then, to find the source of why things felt a little different, and when she did, she realised things weren't off, no, things were changed.
Hermione was a rational person, prided herself on it, and yet as she opened her eyes to find herself decidedly not in the Gryffindor dorm, as she opened her eyes to find herself quite clearly not in Gryffindor Tower, as her eyes darted around to the blue and grey room, to the sign of Rowena Ravenclaw on the wall, to the other four beds, occupied by two sleeping girls, two empty, did she do something entirely irrational.
She screamed.
It wasn't rational, it wasn't clever and yet it was out of her throat before she could stop it. Looking down she could see her body clad in a white nightgown, falling past her knees, very different to the pyjama bottoms and a Gryffindor tee she'd stolen off Harry that she'd gone to bed in. She could see the dorm room, so similar to her one in Gryffindor Tower but not quite the same. It was all just a little bit different.
It was disconcerting. If things had been completely different, she would have presumed herself abducted or kidnapped, but here? Still clearly in Hogwarts, but with everything a touch out of place? Ravenclaw not Gryffindor? It was even more worrying.
What was more worrying was the two girls slumbering opposite. Neither woke despite her scream, neither twitched, even as she yelled, "Hey!" Nothing, neither girl stirred, though one did roll over, clearly still in a peaceful slumber, not effected by her screams or shouting.
What had happened?
She frantically sorted through her mind, though compartmentalizing had never been her strong suit, and her two attempts at Occlumency had been disastrous, she had to try. She shuffled through her memories and yet found nothing out of place, nothing.
Her last memory was of climbing into bed, looking forward to a Sunday of studying, seeing Hagrid and waffles for breakfast, she usually ate oatmeal or granola each day, Sunday was her sweet treat day. That was her last memory, climbing into bed with a smile, looking forward to waffles.
What had happened?
She went through the possibilities in her head – had she somehow transported to Ravenclaw Tower? No, she didn't recognise either of the sleeping girls, and even this dorm seemed a bit different, outdated in a sense.
Was she dreaming? A harsh pinch to her arm disabused her of that notion.
Time travel? That seemed the most likely, and yet there was no time turner at her throat (she raised her hand to check and nothing), and time travel spells didn't work, hence the invention of time turners. So how could she have gone back?
What had happened?
Well, it was clear she wasn't going to get answers here, stuck in bed, neither girl opposite able to hear her. She clearly needed to go out of this room, down to the common room, march her ass over to the Headmasters officer and demand answers. For what other choice did she have? No matter what had happened she needed answers, and she needed them now.
She had always hated being left in the dark, not knowing. She was far too curious a person, her thirst for knowledge far too high to ever be comfortable not knowing something. She needed answers, no matter what they revealed.
'Curiosity killed the cat' Her Mother had admonished her once, though smiling indulgently, 'But satisfaction brought it back' She'd chime back, to her parent's laughter. Yes, she'd always been a curious child, and that hadn't ever, wouldn't ever change.
She stood to her feet, again the girls opposite immobile. She wanted to go check on them, but they seemed peaceful, not dead or hurt, just asleep. She took a step forward still, and then she realised, how stupid she truly was.
Her wand was on the bedside table, which she picked up, thankful it was still hers, she still felt it warm in her hand. With a swish of her wand, she managed the revealing spell, 'Homon Revelio' non-verbally with slight difficulty, still being a novice in non-verbal spells, only two months into her 6th year. Still, she managed it, and the air shimmered showing very clearly the silencing spell that had been placed on and around her.
Gotcha.
With another swish of her wand, she attempted to disable it, and yet nothing. Again, she tried, and again, her casting perfect, the flick of her wand just right, the incantation clear and crisp in her mind. 'Finite Incantatem' She repeated over and over, and yet nothing.
Hmm, the person who'd placed this on her was better than she, and then she realised her planned earlier destination stood.
Dumbledore.
She could see the clothes at the bottom of the bed had been laid out, and now she felt this was deliberate. Someone (probably the Headmaster) had placed a silencing charm over her, had placed her in this bed, had laid out clothes for her and now what? She knew she had to find out.
She dressed quickly, realising it was a uniform she'd been given, one bearing the Ravenclaw insignia. The uniform was slightly different, the shirt she wore was cut more feminine, the skirt much longer than her own conservative length, the shoes much girlier, and the cloak longer, sweeping the floor, the arms much baggier, she looked much more traditional and had to gulp down her worries.
Everything was pointing to time travel.
The clothes, the dated décor, the suddenly waking up in a different place. She glanced out the window and could see it was still crisp autumn here, whereas it had been snowing when she'd gone to sleep.
Fuck.
But she didn't know it was time travel, though her mind was certainly coming to that conclusion. Sometimes she hated how sharp she was, how much easier life would sometimes be if she were just a little stupid, but no, that wasn't her, never would be.
Still, she tried not to get ahead of herself, scooped up her wand, took a deep breath and made her way to the staircase. She remained silent against her will as she paused for just a second before descending into the Ravenclaw common room, and hopefully towards answers.
The Common Room to her surprise was empty, bar one person, someone she did recognise, and her eyes widened as she took them in, well at least it saved her a trip to his office.
Dumbledore looked similar, but different in many ways. His long hair was brown now, with speckles of grey, his beard much shorter, the same colour as his hair, but he dressed the same, though far more stereotypical, his long dark blue robe covered with stars, the picture of the muggle depiction of wizards. He didn't look quite as eccentric but no less warm, he offered her a kind smile as she made it into the Common Room, a wave of his hand instantly cancelling the silencing charm over her.
"What the hell is going on?" She demanded the second she realised she could speak, never one to usually be so rude to Professors (unless they crossed her), she surprised herself with her words but didn't back down from them, looking only mildly embarrassed as she waited for an explanation. "Professor" She did add onto the end, unable to stop herself.
"Well, that is the question" He said, and she felt a sudden surge of sympathy for Harry, was Dumbledore always this cryptic? She'd been enduring it for two minutes and was already frustrated, she wasn't sure how Harry handled it. "That is the question indeed"
"So, what's the answer?" She asked then, and that was just her summed up, always needing to know the answer, the result, the ending. Hermione was not one to ponder a question and wax lyrically about any possible outcome, she was the kind to look at the question and either answer it, or if unable to herself, find the answer for it.
That was what she needed now. Her mind was racing, hands shaking a little, as she looked at a mirror opposite, playing back her reflection, the outdated clothes, the Common Room old fashioned, Dumbledore younger but no less eccentric, she knew the answer, of course she did, but she couldn't' accept it, not yet, not until she was sure.
Of course, her brilliant mind was sure, but she couldn't accept that, wouldn't accept it.
Not yet.
"Alas my dear!" Dumbledore clapped his hands together, and she realised he was referring to her as such because he didn't know her name. Fuck. "Only you can know that, for from our perspective you landed in a heap on the Quidditch pitch in the middle of the night, set the wards wailing, you see you are at Hogwarts and you can't…"
"Apparate in or out of Hogwarts" She finished and missed Dumbledore's eyebrows raise as she had her gaze fixed on the floor, her mind whirring, like a machine, cogs turning furiously.
"So, you know the school?" He asked, and she noticed his tone had slipped on the slight bemusement, ahh he was suspicious, as she could hardly blame him.
"Know it? In my time I'm attending it" She said, raising her gaze, a brave smile on her features not at all convincing. She could feel something then, heavy on her chest, and she knew it, she knew it as soon as it appeared, for it hadn't been there before (and she had checked) but was now, as though it had shimmered into existence. She knew it of course because she had worn it around her neck for a year, and now here it was again as soon as she'd said the word 'time' it had come to her.
Her time turner.
"Interesting" Dumbledore said then, and he certainly sounded interested. She felt an urge to check the time turner but stilled her twitching hands. She trusted Dumbledore, but not quite as completely as Harry, not with this, she wasn't sure why, but something was telling her to keep it hidden, and so she would.
She had of course told him she had time travelled but she was not a good liar and had no hope of concocting a good story, besides she didn't distrust Dumbledore, she just didn't think revealing she had an extremely powerful object on her was a good idea, especially when she didn't know when she was.
"What year is it?" She asked, not wanting the answer, but needing it, as she always did.
"Why my dear..." He began
"Hermione Granger" She offered, perhaps she should have used a fake name, but it slipped out naturally. She thought of her parents, gone now if she'd transcended years, she felt a stutter in her heart at the thought, but had to force herself to focus on the matter at hand. The answer.
"Well Miss Granger, it is 1944" Dumbledore said with a smile, looking kinder again as her eyes widened, a gasp escaped her lips, and she felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach, as though all of the breath had left her body in one instance, it was only the knocker on the door going that distracted her, though she couldn't have responded to Dumbledore if she wanted to, all ability to speak gone as her mind whirled and a crippling sense of despair washed over her.
1944, 1944, 52 years in the past. She felt sick, her stomach rolled, and she was sure she saw dark spots in her vision, felt the room spin a little, it was only the voice at the door that distracted her, and kept her standing.
"What is nothingness?" She recognised the Ravenclaw doorknocker and answered the riddle in her head almost on instinct, it didn't matter she'd travelled over half a century into the past, she was still Hermione Granger, always with her answers; 'The absence of life or existence'
But the voice at the door, with a high tuned accent that had to be fake, answered differently.
"The worthlessness or insignificance of existence" The voice responded.
"An unusual perspective, but well phrased" The knocker offered, and then the door swung open, and someone stepped through.
She could barely process the person though, her stomach was in knots, her head spinning, and she felt very close to perhaps fainting. She was 52 years in the past. She thought of her parents, Harry, Ron, Ginny, everyone. She had left them all, and she had no idea how. Even the time turner around her neck couldn't get her this far, and she had no memory of anything beyond falling asleep in her bed in Gryffindor Tower.
She was half a century in the past, with no recollection how she had arrived there, no understanding of how she could have arrived there (for time turners did hours, not months, nor years, and certainly not decades), and she was alone.
Or was she.
"Miss Granger, this is one of our 6th year prefects" She was sure she didn't imagine the edge of suspicion in Dumbledore's voice, hmm, that wasn't promising, "He is here to show you around, once we get you sorted" He offered, not saying a word more on her circumstances in front of the stranger, which she felt wise, but she couldn't barely take in what he was saying.
1944
52 years
Alone
"I…" She stumbled, "Yes" Was all she could manage, she felt like she was in slow motion, her brain unable to catch up with her, it was a strange feeling, and she decidedly did not like it. She looked at the stranger then, though she felt as though she could barely see, or focus, or think.
The stranger stepped forward though, into focus, and she noted how handsome he was, extremely so, and charming, he offered her a smile she could immediately recognise as insincere, no matter the charisma he sparkled with, which he did, in spades.
She got the sense this was a man who was used to getting what he wanted and getting it with ease.
"Tom Riddle" He offered, with a bow of his head, "A pleasure I'm sure"
Well, that was it. If she had near fainted before, when she'd merely learned she'd travelled half a century into the past, now, standing across from Tom Riddle, Voldemort, alive, well and at school with her, and handsome, now she did feel the room spin, everything whirling around her, the blue and grey merging.
Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she swayed once, falling to the floor, her cloak fanning as she fell, her mind decided it could not, maybe would not process what was going on, and instead protected her, by manner of fainting.
Tom Riddle was all she could see as everything went black, as he rushed towards her his arms catching her before she could fall, cradling her to him, but with no warmth, just instinct, he even looked a little surprised, and she would have laughed had she not wanted to cry. Her saviour, the mass murderer of the wizarding world, she should have hexed him, not fallen into his arms.
'Dangerous things happen to wizards who mess with time'
Dangerous things indeed.