Hello everyone! I'm sorry for taking up all of your time with this little introduction, but I think that there are a few things that I should explain before the rest of the story comes.

First of all, I own absolutely nothing, except maybe what's in my wardrobe. And not even all of that.

Secondly, I think that I should give a brief explanation of what I'm planning. The basic idea behind this story is what if Hermione was not into boys at all, and fell only for girls, even though she never really told anyone, or showed anything. That led to a nastier fight with Ron, when he asked her, and she told him. He was rather angry about it, and left them as in the books, but because he was more upset, got himself killed. This in turn changed everything at the battle of Hogwarts. Without his friends really there for him, Harry lost hope, and when he died, he remained dead.

This in turn led to the collapse of all resistance to Voldemort, and Hermione, the only surviving member of our trio, trying desperate measures. She will be going back in time, to try to salvage the situation.

Forwards in Reverse

Prologue: Time slipping away

She is all alone, stalking through the empty hallway. Blue-whitish light reflecting from the black tiles that cover every surface. She looks terrible. Her brown hair is a wilderness, there even are some leaves tangled up in it. But she doesn't care, not anymore, not after what has happened. Her jeans and jacket are torn, and her sneakers only vaguely betray that they had once been white, now they are covered in mud, and worse. She has only cleaned them enough to prevent herself from leaving marks on the clean floor that could lead to being discovered. Her face looks pallid, and bears obvious bruises and smears under her eyes. Her tired eyes dance around furtively, looking for any sort of threat. She hears nothing, but still she holds her wand, always ready.

Hermione Granger is all alone in the building, it is a Saturday night, and almost all of the Ministry workers should be at home now. Even after all that has happened. They simply kept working, but now they work for him. Her mind is filled with all the memories which haunt her every waking moment. She has only one chance, and she has to take it now. It is desperate, but desperation is all that was left. The war is over, and they had lost.

She remembers how it all went, his return, the battles that they had fought. And even the hope that had briefly surged as they hunted for the horcruxes. That maybe, they could stop the reign of darkness. But in the end they failed, how could they not have failed? They knew so little, and they were up against so much, with so few they could trust. Unprepared and weak they were, every last one of them. They had fought, and they had come close, even after they had been abandoned by Ron. He was selfish, but still, she hates herself for allowing that to happen. She should have seen that he loved her in a way that she never loved him, or any boy for that matter. She should have been more open about her attraction to girls before all of that happened. Without him everything became much, much harder. She only forgave him when she heard of his death on the small radio they had brought, one amongst dozens of names. Another friend taken away by him, She felt guilty over this, and Harry was heartbroken. He hadn't taken well to his leaving, and even worse to the news of his death, because of him.

Not even in her thoughts she dares to use the name, any sort of reference. Speaking it out loud is a death sentence, and she is afraid even of her own thoughts now that he has won. The moment of defeat had been clearly marked. It happened at Hogwarts, where everything began. She remembers him coming to the castle, telling them all that Harry was dead. She didn't believe it, but the boy was nowhere to be found, and when she saw the body being carried forwards by the Death Eaters she cried.

Just like all the others, haunting her through the nights, in all of her nightmares. When that had happened it was clear that the darkness had won, and all defense had collapsed. She never heard who had died that night, the radio no longer broadcast after that night. She only fled, first from the castle, and then from every hiding place she had found, all of them discovered. She had fought, always on the run driven only by her fear. Always managing to barely escape, until she had found the most desperate idea.

It had been madness. She knew it when she started, but she refused to give up. There was nothing left to do, she couldn't spend her whole life running. She needed something, and she found something. Going to Diagon Alley seemed suicidal at first, but that was exactly why it had worked. It was unexpected, and she had succeeded. She had gone into several stores, and bought any book that might have been helpful, using up the last bit of polyjuice potion that she had with her to become a muggle she had found in the streets.

And those books had helped her a lot. They were the reason why she is now breaking into the Department of Mysteries, all alone. She could only do this alone, and could only hope that what she had read was true. If not, she will be found, and there will be no escape, only death. Somewhere she longs for it, an end to all of this. Hermione finally enters the department, remembering the Entrance all too well. Twelve doors, of which only one holds what she needs. There is bound to be a way to open the right one, but she will have to rely on chance. And chance alone.

She opens a first door, but it is the wrong one. There is a planetarium inside, and she turns around too open another. The second door is the same, and she curses. She marks all the doors with a number, to make it easier. But when she returns to the Entrance Chamber from another failed attempt, she finds that the numbers are gone, and she sighs. She knows her arithmancy well enough, and makes a quick calculation. It will take a lot of attempts, but if there is one trait that the has always had, it is a certain stubbornness, although some of course would call it foolhardiness. She tries door after door, sighing, none of them reveals the chamber that she looks for. But still she doesn't give up, she has come too far. Finally, when she has opened thirty doors, she gets lucky, and the thirty-first is the chamber that she needs.

She enters it with trepidation, this is what it all comes down to. The Time Chamber. She allows herself a brief smile on her dirty face, she sees the thing that she was looking for. The bell jar that she had read about, and which she had seen all those years ago. They feel like an eternity. With it, and the right spells, which she had memorized, she can do what she has to.

Hermione freezes, she hears something. Voices. There is no time left to think, no time to hide. Someone will find her, and this is her only chance. She whispers a spell, and then another as she waves her stolen wand. The glass starts to crack, opening up the anomaly that is contained inside. She then uses another simple spell, to take out the egg inside, finally giving the little animal inside its freedom after all that time. All the glass on one side flies away, and the girl swallows. If what madam Mintumble wrote was correct, this would be the way.

She blinks, readying herself for the final incantation, even as the voices come closer. They are too close. She needs more time. She mutters an incantation, and tiles rise up from the ground, forming a wall just in front of the door. And then she continues her complex magic, focusing. It is difficult. There are so many things that can go wrong. She pictures everything exactly as it was when she first heard of Hogwarts. In the living room, speaking to professor McGonagall. She pictures exactly what everything looked like, just as the book described. Nothing is more important than precision, although she didn't read why.

She hears the tiles cracking under some force and she worries for a moment as she speaks the final word and dives into the jar.

XxXxX

And then, nothing. Emptiness, blackness. It is warm, a bit like being underwater, but she has no sensation of needing air. Immediately she hears a terrible sound, like a bang. She wonders what it is, and soon enough, it repeats again. A slamming, booming noise. And there are more sounds. Something bubbling, gurgling and something flowing. Disgusting. But it is so warm, so comfortable. She moves her hand, but it seems weak and slow. So slow. And she feels tired.