Prologue

An ear-shattering explosion to her left ripped the panting girl from her stupor. Before her pursuers could catch up to her, Hermione continued her mad-dash through the crumbling corridors of the castle she had once called her home.

"Stupid mudblood - why won't you just die already?!" Rodolphus Lestrange, the husband of the manic witch that was still haunting her every nightmare was closing in on her. Feeling her heart beating faster in her chest, Hermione skidded around another corner down towards the Great Hall.

Come on, just a little further. She thought desperately, even though her lungs felt like they were on fire. She had been running from the two brothers for what had felt like an eternity when to her horror, the second brother managed to slice her leg with a nasty curse. Hot pain shot up her thigh, causing her to fall to the hard ground.

"I got her!" Rabastan Lestrange called triumphantly.

Hermione's breath hitched as she heard the man come to a halt behind her.

"What a sad excuse for a witch you are little Mudblood" He pulled her up from the ground, the man's rough hands painfully digging into her tangled locks in the process.

Her captor smelled like the fires the Death Eaters had ignited all over the castle. Hermione felt like her heart was about to stop when the husband of the now thankfully very dead Bellatrix Lestrange stopped in front of her, lowering himself down to her face. "Not so brave anymore, are we now?" He hissed, a mad smile dancing over his chapped lips.

Hermione whimpered as she struggled to break out of the other brother's painful hold. In response, he tightened his grip around her neck, forcing Hermione to lean even further towards the vile man.

Hot tears were blurring her vision, "Just kill me already. Make your Lord proud by killing Potter's fucking Mudblood." She spat defiantly.

"Your words are just as dirty as your blood girl, disgusting." The brother that wasn't holding her sneered down at Hermione.

"What are you waiting for Rod, kill her already!" Rabastan Lestrange shoved her towards his brother. The cut on her leg burned in protest at the sudden move, making Hermione lose her balance. Before she could catch herself, she fell to her knees.

"Right where you belong Mudblood." The older brother snarled, pointing his wand at the trembling girl. I'm sorry Harry. I failed you. I failed everyone.

Hermione closed her eyes in an attempt to find some inner strength but she was just so very tired.

I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing me scared. Gathering the remainders of her strenght, she raised her head, meeting the older Lestrange's cold eyes head on.

"Avada Kedavra!" The curse hit her directly in the chest. For a second it felt as if someone had stabbed her right through the heart, twisting the knife sideways. But just as fast as the pain had enveloped her it vanished, instead being replaced by a feeling of utter content.

Hermione Granger fell on the eve of the final battle, her wand still clutched tightly in her bloodied right hand. She did not see the horrified faces of her captors as the tell-tale green light engulfed their forms as well, forcing them to their knees. She did not hear McGonagall's sorrowful calls for help as she found her student's body just a few moments too late, surrounded by the two corpses of the Lestrange brothers. No, Hermione Granger's soul had left her body before it had even hit the hard stone tiles, ready to pass on.

Something wet fell on her face. Irritated Hermione wiped her cheeks before turning to the side in an attempt to fall back asleep. A moment later another drop rolled down her nose, shortly followed by another one.

"Oh for Merlin's Sake!" She grumbled.

Slowly opening her eyes, she came face to face with something that looked suspiciously like cabbage. "What the-?" Confused, Hermione pushed herself from the muddy ground and looked around herself. She was standing in the middle of a field. A seemingly endless, muddy cabbage field!

Where in Merlin's name am I? The flabbergasted girl took a few steps forward before coming to an abrupt halt. "…This can't be the afterlife." She whispered, trying not to hyperventilate. Calm down, Hermione. You're the brightest witch of your age, so act like it for Merlin's sake! But her body seemed to have its own idea of an appropriate reaction. Her lungs constricted, making every breath feel like something sharp was piercing through her chest.

"They killed me, I should be dead!" Turning to one particularly offensive looking cabbage Hermione furiously whiped away some stray tears that were rolling down her cold cheeks. She was freezing, and the rain most certainly didn't make things any better.

For Godric's sake, I can't even die properly. Taking a deep breath, she pinched her nose. "First, I need to get out of the rain. Then I'll think about what to do next." Clutching her wand as if it was the only thing separating her from completely losing it, she was about to cast a warming charm on herself when she noticed how disproportional big her wand was in comparison to her hand. "That's strange." Hermione murmured to herself, furrowing her brows.

Something about this feels wrong. Looking down at her feet, she took notice of her baggy jeans. The last time she'd checked, she'd most certainly not been wearing pants three times her actual size. They were still her jeans no doubt, the dirt, as well as the torn bit where Rabastan's curse had cut into her leg, were still there. Then why – Before Hermione could finish her thoughts a spell hit her right between the shoulders, sending her crumbling to the ground.

„If it isn't Potters Mudblood again. My- don't you look fucking tiny." Rodolphus Lestrange pulled the dazed girl back to her feet. Hermione tried to comprehend what the Death Eater was telling her, but it was hard to form a proper thought with the way her vision was spinning at that moment.

"Brother, what does this all mean?" As if one Lestrange wasn't already bad enough, the younger one came into view as well, and Hermione began to question her sanity. Was she actually dead? Was this hell?

"I don't know Rabastan, I'm sure she does though." At the end of his answer, he painfully pulled Hermione's arm and turned back to look at her. Forcing her mounting fears down, Hermione glared up to the two brothers, somewhat aware that they shouldn't be that far up. Startled she realised the height difference between the man holding her and herself.

This can't be. How can they- "What are you talking about, why would I know what happened?" Sneering, Rodolphus Lestrange pulled her hand up to his face, nearly dislocating Hermione's shoulder in the process. How is this man suddenly so tall?

"Better think again Mudblood, or this might not end pretty for you." He hissed and looked her dead in the eyes. Hermione struggled against his steel grip until the man let go with an irritated huff.

"What do you expect me to say, you two killed me! As far as I know, I'm dead." She responded, rubbing her sore wrist. If I can still feel pain, I can't be dead. Not that she would tell this to the two Death Eaters who seemed to haunt her person even after they killed her.

"Lies. This is not the afterlife, girl." Rabastan answered, his voice nearly getting lost in the pouring rain. Hermione shuddered as she felt it soaking through her loose clothes, desperately trying to think up a plan to get away from the two maniacs. I need to leave this place before they come up with their own theories. She had to find someone from the Order, Shacklebolt or Moody. Anyone that might be able to tell her what had happened.

"We need to get out of this rain. Rabastan check the farm over there for any signs of life. Kill anyone who gets in your way." Rodolphus told his brother and Hermione turned around, trying to find the farmhouse the Death Eaters were talking about.

At last in the distance, she made out the faint silhouette of a house when she registered the rest of Rodolphus' words. "What? No! You can't just kill the people that might live here - That's barbaric!"

The older brother clicked his tongue. "You should worry about yourself Mudblood. Can't defend yourself if you still got the trace, eh?"

Confused Hermione looked up to the man when everything suddenly fell into place. She felt her knees giving out under the sudden realisation. If Rodolphus hadn't been holding her still, she would have found herself on the muddy ground again. This can't be. Magic can't reverse your age. At least not to this extent.

Noticing her internal crisis, the older Lestrange laughed cruelly at her. "Wanna know how old you look?" He taunted, making Hermione grit her teeth.

"Based on our difference in height, and how large my clothes are on me, I can confidently say that I must be at least under the age of twelve." She answered with her best insufferable Know-it-all voice.

"Ain't you a smart little Mudblood, hm?" Rodolphus sounded irked, but just as he was about to say something else, his brother called for them.

The vile man pulled Hermione with him through the rain towards the farm, unbothered by the fact that she could barely keep up with the tall wizard.

"I found two Muggles in the house, old folks. Got rid of them before they even got up from the table." Rabastan told them while leading them through the front door to a small sitting area. Feeling sick to her stomach and entirely out of her depth Hermione allowed Rodolphus to shove her to the nearest sofa. Before she could react, he snatched her wand and sat down with his brother across from her.

Get it together Hermione. With newfound determination, she squared her aching shoulders. "Give me back my wand." The older brother laughed at her request. "And let you alert the Ministry to our presence? I don't think so, girl." Hermione rolled her eyes at his answer while crossing her arms in front of her shivering body. She was completely drenched.

Rodolphus leant back in his seat, observing the girl in front of him for a few seconds. „I killed you. Something went wrong, and the curse rebounded. Are you seriously telling me to believe that you had nothing to do with this?" He finally stated, his cold eyes daring her to disagree with him.

"How do you expect me to accomplish such a thing? Do you think I just swing my wand and suddenly I'm immune to the Killing Curse?" Her flippant answer was apparently the wrong thing to say as she was suddenly hit with excruciating pain.

"Don't get smart with me Mudblood. If you're useless, I might just as well kill you again." Hissed the older brother, watching Hermione suffer a few seconds longer before lifting the curse.

"Now let's try this again. What did you do?!" He stood up, painfully grabbing her wet curls. He got so close that Hermione could see the stubbles of dark hair on his lower face, indicating that he hadn't shaved in a few days. Is it just the light or does he look much younger as well? Hermione asked herself, trying to not have a full-blown panic attack in front of the two men. She felt as if she was back at Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix maniacal cackles echoing in her mind as she looked up at the late woman's husband.

"I said, that I don't know. Maybe you cursing me somehow activated the time turner I was wearing, but that is A, completely impossible, as it broke during my third year, and B, even if it worked it can't just de-age three people. That's not how it works."

"Who just carries a time turner around with them - And why would the ministry even allow a teenager to have one for that matter?" Rabastan looked incredulously at the child across from him.

Hermione angrily pursed her lips at his words, offended that he thought she didn't know how dangerous it was to be in possession of such a powerful object. His brother took a deep breath, trying to contain his apparent fury at the girl. Just as he was about to curse her again, his eyes fell on something on the wall behind her. A few seconds passed before Rabastan also noticed his brother's sudden silence and even Hermione eventually turned around to see what got the death eater to suddenly forget about his anger.

When Hermione realised what he had been staring at, her heart skipped a beat. On the other side of the room, on the wall just above an antiquated record player hung a small, plain calendar. Nothing special about it. Except for the date that was. Hermione's mouth went dry as she read the numbers over and over again. 23rd of August 1937… She heard Rabastan seemingly choke on his own spit as he read the date. For a minute the room fell silent. Then all hell broke loose.

"Morgana help us. What did you do girl?!"

Hermione knew Rodolphus was asking her, well yelling at her. But all she could think of was where in life she had taken the wrong turn to end up here. Sixty Years in the past, with two of the most dangerous men in existence. I can't do this. This is insane. I should just let them kill me again.

"Obviously, your fucking time turner ain't as broken as you think Mudblood." Hermione could tell, that the older Lestrange was losing it. He nearly looked feverish as his eyes glazed over. This is absolutely impossible, no time turner should be able to transport anyone, let alone three people that far back in time.

"Tell me one reason why I shouldn't just kill you girl," Rodolphus asked her then, his voice sounding much older than he actually was.

Harry, what should I do? Merlin, I don't know! For the first time in my life, I don't fucking know. Hermione was a sharp girl, she knew, that she needed an answer fast to get Rodolphus to listen to her. They had to lay low, better yet, she had to contact the ministry or Dumbledore, someone that could help them get back to their own time. Hermione took a deep breath, reminding herself again, that she was the smartest witch of her age and if someone would be able to think of a plan, it was her. Now she only had to get the Death Eaters to listen to her.

Determined she grabbed the thin chain around her neck and pulled the object from under her ill-fitting jumper. "Killing me would be a stupid move, Lestrange. Seeing as I am the one with the time turner." Dangling the small device in front of his face, she folded her legs and glared at the two brothers. "If we want to get back to our own time, we have to contact someone at the ministry. It's possible that someone from the Department of Mysteries might be able to help us."

Rodolphus scowled at her words, shaking his head. "We'll not talk to anyone about this, they'll lock us up again, and even if I don't care what they'll do to you, I most certainly will not go back to Azkaban."

Rabastan eagerly nodded at his brothers' words whereas Hermione just threw her arms up, expressing her frustration at the older man's reasoning.
"It's against the law, we have to report what's happened to us!" She argued but was only met with shrugs from the two brothers.

"As if we would care girl. No, we'll stay low and think of an explanation of how we got here." Rodolphus put his wand away and began pacing around the small room. The rain was still pouring outside the windows and Hermione tried not to think about the dead couple in the next room. They can't be serious. This is insane! We can't just stay in this time. We could seriously mess up the future by just sitting here, never mind building a life in this time period! Hermione's thoughts jumped from one awful scenario to another, as she thought of the consequences of their presence, digging her nails into her hand until she felt blood running down her fingers.

"Awful things happen to wizards who meddle with time. We can't just pretend to belong here!" Hermione quoted the words of her professor hoping to make them see the insanity of Rodolphus' words.

But the older brother didn't even acknowledge her warning."Our family still lives in France at this point in time, we should compel them to believe us to be their relatives for now." Rodolphus began, pulling back his wet locks, which had continued to fall into his eyes during his speech. "Get access to our family vaults and then back here to find a more suitable place to stay, no way will I live with those snail-eating Frenchmen."

Hermione was rendered speechless by his words, unable to comprehend the recklessness of his plans. How can someone be that foolish? She wondered as she listened to his insane ramblings. "What about the Mudblood?" Rabastan spoke up, "She will rat us out, the moment we leave her."

His brother came to an abrupt stop. Hermione's fear skyrocketed at his calculating gaze. "Well, we have to make sure she doesn't do that then, right?"

Feeling shivers running down her spine, she sighed quietly. I'll not get out of this alive. Maybe that's for the best. "I won't say anything, I'm not stupid enough to think you'd just let me go." She argued, trying to gauge the older brothers' reaction.

Pursuing his lips, he attempted to find any deception in her words. "You may still be useful in the future Mudblood, your blasted time turner brought us here, maybe it'll bring us back someday." He finally answered, and without waiting for her reply, he continued. "Still, I'll not have a filthy Mudblood living in my house, so what to do with you, hm?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the man's hollow insult, tired of their prejudice. She knew that she had to put up with whatever he said in order to get out of this mess alive, so she stopped herself from snapping back at him settling for a long glare instead.

"We could just drop her off at some orphanage until she gets her Hogwarts letter," Rabastan suggested, looking at the girl with a thoughtful expression on his face. Hermione noticed that he didn't look much older than herself back in the future and again wondered how the time turners magic managed to reverse their ages and even more importantly why it did. I need to look into this as soon as I can.

"I'm afraid this plan will not work; you know with the whole thing of me not being born yet? The letters are addressed to the children whose names were added to the registry at the Ministry the day they were born." Hermione pulled her legs up to her chest and continued. "My name is not on that list. Not for a long time at least." She finished her explanation and watched with a twisted kind of satisfaction, as the older Lestrange's face darkened progressively throughout her little lecture.

Eventually, he just threw his head back, attempting to collect himself before addressing her, the fingers around his wand twitching to curse her again. "I don't care. My brother and I will go to France and sort everything out, and you'll be a good little Mudblood and stay at some orphanage for now. Understood?"
Hermione wanted to protest, but Rodolphus was faster. "I asked if you understood?" He growled, threateningly pointing his wand at her shivering form. Stupid git. She thought quietly to herself but gave him a curt nod.

"Good. Drop her off somewhere in London Rabastan. I'll meet you at the international Portkey station." He spoke and apparated away from the small farmhouse before Hermione could ask him to return her wand. Rabastan just groaned at his brothers' orders and grabbed the little girl by her shoulder before apparating to the first Muggle park in London he could think of.

Hermione felt her entire body being tightly squished together before finding herself and her captor in a quiet Park with not a single Person in sight. Dazed she tried to balance her exhausted body by leaning against the nearest tree. "Go find someone to help you, tell them you lost your parents or something." He ordered and was about to apparate away before Hermione stopped him.

"Wait! I can't wander around in these clothes. People will ask questions, and I can't use magic myself." The man rolled his eyes at her. Well it's not my fault your insane brother took my wand, is it? She thought, watching Rabastan silently wave his wand at her. She felt the wet fabric slowly transform itself on her body.

When he was finished the younger Lestrange brother nodded to himself before vanishing again, leaving Hermione stranded god knows where. Sporting a plain dress in the same grey colour as her jeans had been, she awkwardly lingered around her hiding spot for a few more seconds. Brushing over some none existent wrinkles on her skirt she took a deep breath before determinedly stepping onto the nearest pathway. Okay, I can do this. I need to find a phone box and get to the ministry before those wretched brothers come back.

Feeling somewhat hopeful for the first time since their unexpected arrival in this time, Hermione quickly exited the small Park and turned around herself in search for one of the classic red telephone boxes that could save her from this nightmare. As she took in her surroundings, Hermione suddenly became aware of how far back in time she had actually gone. Observing the countless pedestrians around her, dressed in very much outdated clothes she had only ever seen in her grandma's old photo books before she sighed. This is insane! Hermione's gaze wandered over the old cars that passed by her, polluting the air so much with their antiquated engines that she felt like she had to cover her nose to be able to breathe right next to the street.

"I need to move." She murmured and was about to cross the street to continue her search when a deep voice stopped her.

"Where are your parent's girl, you lost?" Hermione turned around to come face to face with a policeman dressed like the ones from the old storybooks she had read as a child.

Swallowing her growing panic she shook her head. "No sir, everything is fine, I was just on my way home." The police officer looked her up and down once, noticing her damp hair and strange shoes.

"The sun's been shining for days here in London, where is your home girl?" Hermione cursed at the man's perceptiveness and tried to think of a street in the area.

She didn't recognise any of the buildings around her. I'm so screwed. "Penton Street, Sir." She finally answered, remembering her Mother telling her she'd lived there during her time studying in London.

Hermione knew she'd messed up when she saw the officer furrowing his brows. What she would give for her wand at this moment.

"Quite a mile from here, isn't it? I think it would be best if I brought you with me 'till we manage to contact your parents." Realising that her protest would only make her seem even more suspicious, she dully nodded and proceeded to follow the officer through the streets. After a few minutes, the burly man turned to face her again.

"I know an orphan when I see one girl. Don't know where you ran from but I'll bring you to Mrs Cole for the time being." Cursing her bad luck Hermione tried to look like he caught her in the act. What act precisely that was, she didn't quite know, but his stern gaze seemed to soften at her pitiful look, and he sighed.

"I know it's hard girl, but when you grow up, you'll see that life at the orphanage isn't that bad." She just stayed silent at his words, hoping that she'd be able to get away from this Mrs Cole as fast as possible. After turning around another corner for what felt like the hundredth time, they finally arrived at a run-down building that stood tall between the grey three-story houses around it. Hermione suddenly felt compassion welling up inside her chest for the grimy looking children playing in front of the house on patchy concrete, with not a single green tree in sight.

"Here we are, Wool's Orphanage. One of the better ones in this city." The officer told her and Hermione sceptically raised a brow at his words. This was what they considered the nicer option? Merlin how much worse than this can it get? He gently steered her through the rusty gates, and Hermione tried to ignore the curious stares she received from the other children. You're a seventeen-year-old witch Hermione, don't let those kids get under your skin. But as she walked up the worn-down stairs to the front door, she could still feel the eyes of a particularly mean looking bunch of teenagers on her back.

"Officer O'Malley, what brings you here? Not another stray you picked up I hope." A woman that had to be in her late forties walked out of one of the rooms to Hermione's left and proceeded to dry her Hands on her apron before shaking the officer's hand. Her skin seemed to be just as dull and grey as her hair. When she looked down at Hermione, her dark eyes turned into slits.

"Officer, I already told you last week. I can't even feed the children that I have, we don't have room for another hungry mouth." The woman tried to sound pleasant, but Hermione could hear the thinly veiled annoyance behind her forced smile.

"But Mrs Cole you are the only Matron in this town that I could ever trust with those poor children." O'Malley put on his most winning smile, and she could practically see the woman melt like butter in his hands. It would have been funny if she hadn't been so desperate to find a way to contact the Ministry.

"Officer you flatter me. You're probably right; one more child won't be the end of the world. But you have to promise me to stop bringing strays to my house." Batting her eyelashes in a way that she must have thought to look good at the man, Hermione had to stop herself from cringing at the awkward display of affection. What did I ever do to deserve all of this? She asked herself for the tenth time that day desperately praying for someone to just wake her up from this nightmare.

"Hear that girl? You should thank Mrs Cole for her generosity and stay out of trouble from now." He looked expectantly at her, and Hermione realised that he had meant his words quite literally. Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes at him and the Matron she put on a strained smile.

"Of course, excuse my bad manners, thank you for taking me in Mrs Cole." Merlin, I sound so young. Trying not to overthink the fact that she was a little girl again, Hermione continued to look up to the two adults. "At least that one has manners. Can you read girl?" Hermione noticed that the Matron still hadn't asked her for her name. She knew at that moment, that this woman couldn't care less if Hermione suddenly vanished overnight. Perfect.

"I can read and write Mrs Cole. I am also able to do basic calculus." The Matron seemed to be genuinely happy about her answer.

"Wonderful. You can teach the smaller ones then as well. Tom and Amy are the only others that can write properly, and with over fifty children it's quite difficult to teach everyone the basics." Hermione was appalled by the apparent lack of education of the children and was once more reminded that these were indeed different times. Maybe I should stay here for a bit and see that the children can at least write their names properly. She shook her head. I can't meddle with time any more than I already do.

"Well, duty calls Mrs Cole. Thanks for taking care of the girl." Officer O'Malley tipped his hat and quickly took off before the Matron could engage him in any more exciting conversation. Hermione watched Mrs Cole's face fall as the Officer excused himself, before clearing her throat and looking down at the newest addition to the orphanage.

"Well, what are you waiting for, go ask Mary for a clean Uniform and then come down to the Hall for dinner. Tomorrow I will introduce you to the children you'll teach. Your room number is 11, you'll be sharing it with Amy for now." With that Hermione was effectively dismissed. Not entirely sure where she could find this Mary she walked around the orphanage aimlessly for a while before another clearly malnourished boy showed her how to get to the woman's office. It's best to wait until everyone's asleep. After that, I'll leave and search for a telephone Box.

"You need to wear your hair in a braid or short, always wear your tights and clean your shoes on Sunday for church." Mary was a young woman with thin blonde hair and a mousy face. She must have been around Hermione's age in the future and had a no-nonsense attitude that rivalled the one of her old transfiguration Professor.

"I understand, anything else I should know?" Hermione asked, ready to just get to her room, lie down and cry for a bit.

"Breakfast is at seven, dinner at four. Don't be late or there will be no food left. Your room must always to be tidy, personal belongings have to be put in your locker." Given that Hermione had nothing but the clothes she was wearing, she didn't see any problems with this rule. She thanked the girl, grabbed her grey uniform and left in search of her room. After climbing up the narrow stairs to the third floor, she spotted a door with her room number on it and eagerly entered the small space. What a dreary place. No wonder orphanages in the past had such a bad reputation. There wasn't much to see, two beds stood at the opposite ends of the room, a single small window in between them. The walls were as colourless as her new uniform and blended in nicely with the metal bedframes and identical small lockers on the walls behind them.

"Well, at least there are no murderous death eaters around." She told to herself, before sitting down on the bed that looked unused. Looking down at the clearly worn uniform in her lap she absentmindedly pulled at a loose string on her grey tights. I need to get away before they return from their trip to France. Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by the shrill sound of a bell. She heard doors around her being opened and countless voices filling the corridors. Must be time for dinner then. Hermione quickly changed into her Uniform, wanting to blend in with the other children as best as she could. The last thing she needed, was to draw even more attention to herself than she already did earlier that day.

"Is this seat free?" Hermione asked the pale boy in front of her, carrying a small bowl filled with bland porridge, in one hand, and a metal container filled with water in the other. The boy regarded her with an icy glare that made her flinch, his dark locks standing in stark contrast to his ashen skin, the lack of nutrition evident on his gaunt face.

"No." Was all he said before going back to his meal, clearly not wanting to interact any further with the startled girl. Glaring first at him, then at the clearly unoccupied seat opposite from him Hermione rolled her eyes. What a little shit. Smiling sweetly at the boy, she spun on her heels in search for another table.

"Don't mind Tom, he doesn't like other people." Whispered the older girl, who'd offered Hermione to sit with her. She just nodded, not feeling like wasting her time talking to people she wouldn't see again anyways. Better stay away from everyone and not mess up the timeline even further. She finished her meagre dinner and returned to her room after excusing herself from the table before any of the other girls could ask her any more questions about her person.

Exhausted Hermione crawled under her thin blanket. Before she could stop it, hot tears clouded her vision. Her entire body shook as she shamelessly sobbed into her pillow, wishing to be anywhere else but in that dreadful orphanage. It had finally hit her, she was alone and utterly helpless, and none of her friends would come to save her. She thought about Ron and how she saw him fall next to his older brothers' body, as Rockwood fired a curse at him before he could even raise his own wand. Hermione's heart clenched painfully in her chest when she felt the despair that had built up in her finally spill over, consuming her entirely. It physically hurt to breath. Fearing that she might faint over the lack of oxygen reaching her brain Hermione nearly missed the sound of the door to her room opening again.

"What the hell? If you keep crying for the rest of the night, I'll slap you silly." A gangly girl that couldn't have been much older than Hermione herself closed the door behind her and proceeded to take off her shoes. Hermione tried to regain control of her shaking body, but the tears just wouldn't stop coming. God, I must look pathetic. She furiously wiped away her tears with her blanket, trying to tune out the nagging of the girl on the other bed.

"Just suck it up. I don't want a cry-baby for a roommate." The girl – Amy, if Hermione remembered correctly, put on a simple nightgown after brushing and braiding her hair. Hermione finally felt her heart rate slowing down to a manageable level and the world stopped spinning around her. She drew in long shaky breaths in an attempt to push her tumultuous emotions back down. I can do this. Just a little longer and everything will be back to normal.

She turned to face the wall, determined to wait until the sun went down so she could leave this horrible place. Hermione listened to Amy's quiet breathing, as the girl finally fell asleep and carefully turned on her squeaking bed. Just when she was about to get up, she heard someone stop in front of their door and turn a key in the lock. Hermione's mind came to a screeching halt as she registered what had just happened.

They lock the doors overnight. Feeling dread pooling in her stomach, she went to the door and carefully pushed down the handle just to make sure. It was indeed locked. Suddenly furious at the audacity at the Matron's action Hermione put her hands on her hips and looked upwards to calm herself down. This is just a minor inconvenience. I will just leave tomorrow after breakfast when everyone is washing up. Hermione continued to repeat those words in her head until she eventually fell into a restless slumber.

"No. Don't write it like that. This is how an A looks like." Hermione explained to the six-year-old girl, that sat at the table in front of her, looking at the young witch like she'd just told her, her pet rabbit had died. One Week. She had been at this dreadful orphanage for a whole week! After her numerous escape attempts were either foiled by the children who had caught her sneaking out or the Matron herself who in turn had locked her up in her room for the remainder of the day, telling her to think about her selfish actions. On her sixth day, she had finally given up and went on to teach the younger children how to spell their names to win Mrs Cole's trust. Once she'd achieve that seemingly impossible feat, she would find a way to get away from this place.

During her stay, she tried to steer clear of the other children, only occasionally chatting with Amy in the evenings or to be more precise, listening to Amy's rantings, nodding when the girl looked at her for support. To her surprise, Tom was another person she often spend her days with when they sat together in the pitiful excuse of what Mrs Cole liked to call the library of the orphanage. He was a quiet boy, who obviously had some issues, seeing as he scared away any kid that dared to cross his path in the hallway, but he was also the only other child in this place that liked books. So, Hermione found herself more than once in his presence, discussing the few novels the orphanage owned, like Charles Dickens and some worn down Encyclopaedia's that looked like they had been printed before Mrs Cole had even been born. Tom was also the only other person she had ever told her name, so when one day another child came into the library looking for a Hermione, she instantly grew suspicious.

"Mrs Cole wants you in her office." Offering no further explanation, the boy ran back to his friends, while Hermione excused herself, unaware that this would be the last time she would ever see this room again. On her way to the Matrons' small office at the back of the house, she tried to think of a reason why the woman would request her presence but couldn't think of anything that warranted this visit. Intrigued she knocked on her door and waited for an answer.

"Come in." The strict woman opened the door and ushered the girl into her office. Hermione turned to see who the other person at her desk was, and nearly suffered a small heart attack when she recognised the imposing figure of Rabastan Lestrange, looking down at her with an unreadable expression.

"Hermione your uncle is here to pick you up. Why didn't you tell me you had relatives in the countryside?" She sounded flustered, probably having noticed her visitors strange, but nonetheless expensive looking attire. Hermione tried to keep up a pleasant façade while trying to avoid the man's eyes. Should've tried to get away sooner. Why is he telling Mrs Cole that he's my uncle?

"I'm sorry Mrs Cole, I wasn't aware of any relatives of mine." She eventually answered, trying to sound confused and not scared beyond her wits. Even though the woman wasn't the most righteous human being, Hermione didn't think that she would just give a little girl to a stranger.

"Don't be daft girl, those ludicrous curls of yours clearly run in the family." Scratch that. Mrs Cole would definitely give her away to a strange man she'd never met. Hermione's insides twisted when she thought about how many boys and girls this woman might have already given away, exposing them to God knows what horrors.

"Awfully sorry Mrs Cole, our Hermione here ran away after a disagreement with her father. She's quite the stubborn thing." Rabastan sounded so convincing. The way he was carrying himself - Hermione could practically see the bribes being thrown at the Matron to overlook any discrepancies. What a horrible person.

"Of course you deserve a reward for your efforts of keeping my niece safe." As if he had heard her thoughts, the wizard handed Mrs Cole a small envelope with what Hermione knew must have been enough money to feed the orphanage for a month. Disgusted she curled her lips as she watched the Matron count the notes.

"How very kind of you sir. Hermione didn't bring anything with her so feel free to leave Mr Lestrange." The woman spoke without even looking up from the money.

Hermione yelped out in pain at the man's bruising grip as pulled the girl out of the office, not even bothering to bid his farewell to the greedy Matron. Once outside she struggled to get away from him, but before she could call for help, he apparated them away from the empty hallway.

"Let go of me you Bastard!" Hermione yelled the moment they appeared in front of an imposing Manor. Taken aback she looked around for a split second before continuing her efforts to get away from the man.

"Where are we, what are we doing here?" She asked under her breath as she tried to keep up with Rabastan who was basically dragging her through the dark gates of the estate, proceeding to pull her up the wide stairs to the double winged front doors. Merlin, they're gonna kill me. Scared beyond wits, she doubled her efforts to get away from the man.

"Will you stop struggling. We won't kill you girl." Scoffing at his words, Hermione tried to pry his fingers from her pounding wrist.

"As if I'd believe anything you say. I demand you let me go." She hissed when he just tightened his grip on her even more, completely aware of the pain he was causing her. He led her through a large hall with dark wooden walls and even darker rugs on the floor, making the whole house seem sombre and oppressing. What is this gloomy place? They went up an impressive set of finely carved stairs, illuminated only by the enchanted stained glass windows above them, the moving mosaic figurines turning their heads as they passed by them.

Rabastan saw Hermione's apparent wonder at the large windows and hummed. "Welcome to Lestrange Manor, the original home of my family before we moved to the continent." Hermione sucked in her breath as she looked up to the man who was still dragging her through the winding corridors of his ancestral home. This is where they grew up? Figures. This house practically oozes dark magic.

The younger Lestrange brother stopped in front of a broad set of wooden doors and knocked. A moment later the doors swung open by themselves and Hermione was pushed towards Rabastan's brother, who sat at an imposing mahogany desk looking down at the girl as if she was somehow offending him with her mere presence.

"The Mudblood has finally arrived. I see you kept your promise to keep your mouth shut." Hermione bit her tongue to prevent herself from telling him about her countless attempts to get away from the orphanage. She needed to keep her calm. Rodolphus looked surprisingly put together without his intimidating Death Eater Robes billowing behind his every step. Like his brother, he had trimmed his hair so that it didn't fall back into his hollow face every time he turned his head.

The only thing that still made her skin crawl were his cold eyes that seemed to strip every protective layer from her person, leaving her bare with just her courage protecting her from the dangerous man. "What do you want Lestrange?" Swallowing down her growing fear, she put on a brave front, determined to show them that it didn't bother her to be standing in the same room with the men that had killed so many of her classmates, without her wand. They won't hurt me. The voice in her head sounded suspiciously like Harry's.

"You do realise that no matter how hard you try, you still look like a scared little girl right?" Rodolphus taunted as he watched the child narrow her eyes at him in return. After letting her stew under his piercing gaze for a few more seconds, he was impressed when the girl still didn't look away.

"Gryffindors." He spat, before continuing. "After thinking over our situation, I've concluded that this is, over anything else, an opportunity." Hermione watched the man absentmindedly play with what she instantly recognised as her wand and scowled.

"You know my stance on this matter. Give me back my wand." As if he'd just noticed what he'd been holding, the older Lestrange brother's lips pulled into a predatory grin. He inspected the wood in his hand carefully before suddenly grabbing it with both hands and snapping it in two. "No!" Furious Hermione leapt at him to retrieve her broken wand but Rabastan grabbed her from behind and pulled her back.

"I don't like how you look at me Mudblood. You should respect your superiors." Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as Hermione watched Rodolphus throw her broken wand to the floor without wasting any more thoughts on his action.

"Now, where was I? Oh yes, our reason for being here." Leaning back in his green leather chair, he looked first at his brother then back to Hermione.
"It has come to my attention that our Lord is still but a child in this time." Hermione tried to pull herself together and listen to the man's words.
"This is the perfect opportunity to change the outcome of the war and ensure the Dark Lord's success."

"Are you actually insane?" At his words, Hermione felt sick to her stomach. Rodolphus had the audacity to laugh at her incredulous voice.

"Wouldn't you like that as well girl? Save your friends, prevent a useless war from happening, if our Lord just…I don't know-" He paused seemingly trying to think of the right words to say. "…assumed a more conservative position of power. Like becoming the Minister of Magic for example?"

And suddenly Hermione knew why they'd kept her alive. It makes perfect sense. "You want to use me as a tool to get close to Tom Riddle during his school years."

A manic gleam took over his eyes as the older man leaned over the desk and grabbed Hermione by her collar to pull her closer to him. "What a clever little Mudblood you are. Rabastan told me you were a bright thing." Disgusted she freed herself from his loose grip, hastily stepping out of his reach. She knew that these men were insane, but this plan of theirs? She couldn't even fully comprehend the tremendous ripples their involvement would cause in the fabrics of time. This can't be happening.

"This is madness. Are you even slightly aware of the consequences this plan of yours might have?!" Hermione crossed her arms and began pacing. " For all we know we could completely rip apart the strands of time." Momentarily forgetting her fear for the two wizards, she threw her hands in the air. "You can't do this Lestrange. We have to stay low and try to keep out of other people's businesses, not change the entire god damn future of the wizarding world!" She exclaimed, her cheeks turning red from her anger at the two men. Before she could continue her rant, Rodolphus spoke up.

"It's either that or you watching history repeat itself. And I will make sure you'll watch every single one your friends die painfully." Hermione looked up at the man and realised that he was being serious about this. This can't be happening. Hermione felt all the anger leave her small body, instead being replaced with all-consuming dread. She had no other option. She had no wand, and even if she did, even with all her battle experience, she wouldn't be able to take both brothers out at the same time. Hermione suddenly felt as if the world was going to swallow her whole and she paled considerably when the hopelessness of her situation became apparent to her.

The Lestrange brothers watched the girl grabbing her fizzling hair in an attempt to control her magic. Without a wand, she was prone to accidental magic again, especially at her current age.

Rodolphus didn't flinch when the windows in his office shattered and let the girl have her moment, as he knew from the antics of his manic wife, that after her outbursts she'd always seemed to calm down considerably. Rabastan stepped away from the girl when she suddenly turned and ran from his brother's study.

"Let her go, Rab."

After aimlessly stumbling around the dark corridors for a few minutes, Hermione eventually broke down in the backyard of the manor, pulling a few patches of grass from the ground and throwing them away with a hoarse yell. I need to get away from those madmen. She told herself but couldn't find the strength to get up from her crumpled position on the ground. Her tights from the orphanage were stained from the grass, and her hair sizzled around her head, her neat braid long gone. She hadn't had a burst of accidental magic in years and angry at her loss of control she punched the ground a few times before wiping the grime from her face. She had never felt so helpless in her entire life.

"Fuck!" She cursed, not caring how wrong it sounded from her small form. She wanted her parents. She wanted her mother to hug her and tell her that everything was going to be okay. "Well guess what, they don't know you anymore Hermione!" She chuckled humourlessly, her voice sounding hollow even to herself. Would she even be born now? What if her presence in the past somehow changed her parent's future? What if they never had her now? Maybe it's for the better. They could finally live a normal life, not having to worry about their freak daughter and magical wars. She thought bitterly while trying to suppress another sob. She let herself fall back on the ground and stared up at the cloudy sky.

"What am I doing? I need to prevent those people from presenting Voldemort the world on a silver platter." She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to calm herself enough to think of a plan. "Screw it, I'll just have to try my best and hope that Gamp's Theory of multiple timelines turns out to be accurate." Remembering the numerous books she had read on that subject during her third year, Hermione contemplated the different outcomes of their presence in the past. No one had ever successfully performed a jump that far back, so there weren't any references she could fall back on.

Seeing that they were still very much alive and did not disintegrate the moment they had interacted with other people, Hermione figured that if one didn't exist in the first place in the current timeline, the possibility of causing a paradox was vanishingly slim. She still didn't know if she could trust Gamp's theories, but as of now it seemed that his were the only ones even remotely close to what she was experiencing and it calmed her considerably to assume that no matter what they did, it would not affect the timeline they originally came from, instead forming a new string, entirely disconnected from her original time.

Right, this will have to do for now. I can read up more about this theory later. Ready to face her enemies, she got up again, attempting to look as put together as she possibly could with her stained clothes and tangled hair. Maybe this is my chance to help everyone that didn't make it the first time around. She imagined her parent's happy smiles in her mind and Ron's warm arms around her shoulders. She was Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age. She could do this.

Sitting back in Rodolphus' study, the traces of her magical outburst long gone, Hermione listened to the older man's plans. "You'll get close to our Lord and make him see the benefits of ruling wizarding Britain from the comfortable position as our Minister. You'll report everything about him and his friends back to us while supporting his cause, do you understand?" Rodolphus sat on the sofa across from her, his one arm casually dangling from the side of the armrest whereas his brother watched her calmly from his place right next to Rodolphus.

"Why would he talk to me? I'm a muggle-born with no family ties to boast with." Hermione argued.

"I already took care of this little inconvenience and registered you as my illegitimate daughter from a fling back in France." Hermione choked on her own breath at his words, coughing she looked towards the two men across from her.

"Are you serious? Why would you do this without my consent, I'm proud of my heritage!" Her supposed father clicked his tongue condescendingly while uncrossing his legs before answering.

"First, you're a child again, no one gives a fuck about your consent." At Hermione's attempt to argue back he warningly raised his hand, effectively shutting her up. "Don't interrupt your elders, it's rude." Hermione scoffed at his words but let him continue. "Second, I don't care that you're proud of your filthy blood, Tom Riddle wouldn't even look twice at a Mudblood, so I had to improvise. Don't think for a second that I'm happy with letting a Mudblood carry my house's name." He hissed, and Hermione had to suppress a shudder at his apparent hatred for everything he didn't consider pure in his book.

Contemplating his crazy scheme for a moment, Hermione sighed in exhaustion, deciding to play along with their spiel for the time being. She was weary from the strain her accidental use of magic had put on her body, so she just nodded tiredly.

"I'm not comfortable with sharing a name with two mass-murderers either but to be honest, I see your reasoning. I'm tired. Do I get a room or am I sleeping with the house elves in some kitchen cupboard?"

The brothers had the decency to look appalled at her question, and it was Rabastan instead of his brother who answered her question. "Of course you'll have your own rooms. The elves prepared the west wing on the second floor for you." Hermione just scowled, annoyed that they seemed to have fully expected her cooperation. She wondered if she'd still gotten the nice rooms if she'd told them to fuck off.

Finally, alone in her admittedly impressive bedroom Hermione sat down on one of the two armchairs in front of her ridiculously large fireplace. It was nearly as high, as her adult self-was tall and Hermione could already see herself with a good book in one hand and a hot chocolate in the other, sitting in front of the crackling fire on a cold winter night.

"Does Missy need Winny to assist her in any way?" Cursing Hermione jumped from the chair and stared down at the little elf next to her. Clenching her rapidly beating heart Hermione pulled her messy curls from her face and smiled kindly at the elf.

"Merlin you scared me – Winny is it?" The little creature nodded. At least she seemed to wear a clean sheet.

"Yes! Winny is sorry for startling her, Missy. Please forgive Winny!" She wailed pitifully, and Hermione tried not to anger her new family on her first night by freeing all the elves in the house.

"Of course Winny. Don't worry. Would you be so kind and run me a bath while I go and search for something to wear?"

The little elf turned her big eyes to her new Mistress's face, pointing her bony fingers at a dark door beside her bed. "Winny will run the bath! Missy's dressing chamber is right through the door there." Hermione sceptically raised an eyebrow at the thought of the two men she was now staying with, buying her dresses.

"Master Rabastan told Winny to get attire for Master Rodolphus' daughter, so Winny brought everything the Master has ordered." Hermione dully nodded, making her way towards her supposed dressing chamber. When she opened the door, a sea of various shades of black assaulted her tired eyes.

"They can't be serious about this." Reluctantly stepping into the dimly lit room, she continued to combe through the endless amounts of fabric in search of something lighter than a dull grey. The only things not completely colourless in her wardrobe were her nightgowns and underwear. What kind of person buys a child nothing but black robes? What went wrong in their childhood? Dumbstruck she pulled out an especially gaudy piece, that looked like it went out of fashion when Victoria was crowned queen.

"Merlin, I'm fated to look forever dressed for the next funeral." Not able to deal with Rabastan's apparent lack of fashion sense, she grabbed one of the many nightgowns to her right and went to her bathroom at the opposite end of her bedroom. After she had dismissed the little elf, she tried to drown her worries in the bathtub for a few hours, before burying herself under her heavy comforters, instantly falling into a dreamless sleep.

The following days she mostly hid in her room or the library, trying to avoid the two brothers as much as she could. Rodolphus had forced the three of them to eat their meals together, but other than that he had left Hermione alone. It was nearly the middle of September and Hermione had decided that for her birthday she would ask Rodolphus to let her visit Diagon Alley to get some books.

"Take Rabastan with you, I don't trust you." When she'd argued that she was a grown woman and didn't need a chaperone he had just whirled his wand in her general direction, forcing the irritated girl to dodge away under his nasty stinging hex. On the 19th she reluctantly asked Rabastan to accompany her to Diagon Alley, and together they used the tall Fireplace in the entrance hall to travel to their destination.

Nearly forgetting about the dark man walking next to her, Hermione took in the lively street in front of her. It looked almost identical to the one in her own time. Her eyes wandered over a group of laughing children running through the crowd, their colourful robes billowing behind them. Suddenly feeling very self-conscious Hermione looked down at her own black ones, aware of how pale they made her face look.

"Come on, I don't want to be here all day." Rabastan pushed her forward. Hermione grumpily made her way towards her favourite shop in the wizarding world, Flourish and Blotts. Her supposed uncle following her through the happily chatting crowd of wizards and witches, unaware of the number of glances that were thrown their way. "Maybe his wife died." Rabastan heard one witch quietly whisper to her friend, and without telling Hermione the reason he urged her to walk a little faster. He wasn't used to being around people that didn't know his face from the wanted posters anymore.

In the Bookshop, Hermione felt instantly calm, and with a content sigh she took off before Rabastan could stop her. Browsing through the Herbology section, she nearly bumped into another boy that was skipping quietly through a book about Mandrakes.

"Oh excuse me, I didn't see you there." The boy looked up to find a pale girl with wild curls standing very close to him. He instinctively took a step back, and Hermione smiled awkwardly. "Hermione G-Lestrange pleased to meet you." He looked at her outstretched hand, wondering why she was still talking to him.

"Antonin Dolohov." He murmured, and Hermione nearly pulled her hand back as if it had been burned. She looked at the future death eater across from her and tried not to let the boy notice her sudden discomfort.

"Well it was nice to meet you Dolohov, but I'm afraid my uncle is getting a little impatient." Before he could answer Hermione hastily turned around, trying to walk as fast away from him as it was socially acceptable. Dolohov watched her retreating back and wondered what kind of witch would wear such gloomy looking robes on a sunny day.

"Who was the boy you were talking to?" Rabastan asked when she'd finally reached him. Hermione grimaced at his question as they went to the register to pay for her books.

"Antonin Dolohov." She answered curtly, and Rabastan had to force himself not to whirl around and stare back at the little boy he knew would grow up to be one the Dark Lords most loyal subjects.

"Bloody Hell, who would've guessed." He grumbled under his breath, but Hermione just rolled her eyes, her excellent mood instantly ruined, as she remembered what was to come. She was certain Rabastan would tell his brother about the boy, the minute they arrived back home.

A few more weeks passed without any significant disturbance, and Hermione had grown tired of the oppressive feeling of the manor. Deciding to take a risk, she snuck out to visit a close by Muggle village. Not caring about Rodolphus' wrath if he found out that she had left without his knowledge, she wandered through the cobblestone streets of the idyllic village. It reminded her of the ones from the postcards her grandparents always used to send from one of their trips around the countryside. A nostalgic smile ghosted over Hermione's lips at the memory of her grandma's enthusiasm for everything inherently British.

"Excuse the strange question, but are you by any chance a witch?" Surprised Hermione turned around and looked at the young girl behind her. She must've been around her own age and wore her copper hair neatly pulled up into a simple bun.

"Come again?" She asked just to make sure, and the girl across from her nervously chewed on her thin lips.

"Your robes. I only ever saw my mother wearing those in her childhood pictures." The girl answered, and Hermione's brows shot up her forehead.

"Your mother's a witch? Are you as well?" To her surprise, the girl pulled her into a quieter alley and nodded.

"I am, mother says I'll get my Hogwarts letter soon." Hermione grinned, overjoyed to finally have found someone else to talk to.

"That's amazing! Hermione Lestrange, it's very nice to meet you." Slightly startled by Hermione's sudden enthusiasm the other girl eagerly shook her hand.

"Minerva McGonagall, it's so great to finally have another witch around my age in the neighbourhood." Hermione's grin faltered for a split-second before returning in full force. She couldn't believe it. Hermione had to restrain herself from throwing herself into the other girls' arms. Looping her arm around McGonagall's own, she quickly pulled her to the nearest Café.

She hadn't had a normal conversation in weeks and couldn't wait to get to know her younger professor. Finally, fate seems to mean well for once. Hermione ordered a piece of apple pie for herself and happily sipped on her Tea. "So Minerva, is it alright if I call you Minerva?" Hermione asked excitedly while the other girl just nodded, a little overwhelmed by Hermione's enthusiasm.

"If I can call you Hermione- "

"Of course you can!" Hermione interrupted her and Minerva raised a brow at the girls' brash behaviour.

"Well alright Hermione, do you live around here?" Hermione nodded while chewing on a piece of cake. She pointed towards the looming structure of the old manor that sat on top of a small hill at the outskirts of the village and Minerva looked surprised at her statement. "Wait, someone actually lives in this creepy house? My mother told me it belonged to a family of bad wizards until they moved away a few decades ago."

Hermione laughed and continued to grin into her teacup as she answered. "We just moved back from the continent, but don't worry, some of us are not that bad." Even though she tried to sound cheerful, Minerva picked up on the underlying resentment in Hermione's voice, wondering what the girl had meant with her words. "Anyways, enough about myself. Tell me something about you, where do you live?" The girls continued chatting about the most trivial things until it started to grow dark, the fading sunlight reminding Hermione that she had to return soon.

"I'm afraid I have to leave now, Rod-father might notice my absence if I'm late for dinner." Minerva bid the pale girl farewell, and the two made plans to meet each other again over the weekend.

Hermione waved one last time over her shoulder before hurrying back home, cursing herself for losing track of time. Just as she entered the house quietly through the kitchen, Winny appeared before her and announced that dinner had been served. Relieved to have made it back in time, Hermione tried to cool her flushed cheeks from the cold evening air outside and hurried to the dining room.

"You look flustered, are you feeling unwell?" Rabastan asked after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, and Hermione nearly choked on her dinner.

"I was exploring the gardens when Winny summoned me, it was quite a mile back." Seemingly satisfied with her answer the three continued their meal.

Just as Hermione went to get up from the table Rodolphus cleared his throat, she froze in her seat, anxious about what he could want from her. "You need to learn how to behave yourself around other purebloods. Starting from tomorrow Rabastan and I will teach you how to walk, talk and act like a proper pureblood witch." Hermione screwed up her face at his words. As if those two would know anything about how to be a proper witch.

"I think I know how to behave myself around other people, thank you very much." She snapped back and watched Rodolphus instantly lose his calm. She prepared herself for any hex he might throw at her and discreetly moved her chair a little further away from the table.

"I don't have the patience to listen to your incessant arguing, so I advise you to shut your little mouth if you know what's good for you." He said threateningly, gripping the sides of the table until his knuckles were devoid of any colour.

Hermione's inner Gryffindor encouraged her to defy him even further but she knew, she couldn't antagonise the man every day until he snapped. She wouldn't survive a week in this house if she did. So, Hermione gave in and apologised before storming out of the room, unbothered by Rodolphus' angry cursing. The bare minimum of compliance. That's what she was ready to offer, nothing more. I will not let this man walk over me as if I'm nothing better than a doormat, I'm Hermione Granger, and I'm proud of my heritage. Like a mantra, she told herself the same words every night before she went to bed.

When the weekend had finally arrived, Hermione put on the least daunting dress she could find in her closet of endless joy as she liked to call it and proceeded to sneak back into the village to meet Minerva again.

"Why are you always wearing black Hermione, is it like a pureblood thing? My mother told me the older families have some odd quirks."

Hermione dramatically put her Hand over her heart, pretending to be mortally offended by her new friends' words. "Minerva you hurt me, maybe it's just what I like to wear."

Her friend just rolled her eyes at Hermione's antics, taking a sip from her teacup before clicking her tongue. "Well, it makes you look sick. You should try some colours for a change."

She teased, and Hermione sighed. "Believe me I would if I could, but the one time I asked my uncle if I could buy some new dresses, he didn't understand what my problem was." Giggling the two girls continued to chat over their tea.

"How about your family Minerva? What do your parents do?" Hermione eventually asked, and Minerva nervously played with the handle of her cup.

"Well my dad is a Presbyterian minister, and my mum stays at home. He nearly had a heart attack when he found out mum's a witch." Hermione furrowed her brows. She was surprised that McGonagall had grown up in a non-magical household, amazed, that the strong woman from her memories had to hide her abilities in her youth, she'd always just assumed that her teacher had grown up in a magical family.

"And your father is ok with you being a witch?" Hermione asked genuinely interested in Minerva's answer and leaned forward in her chair.

"Well not at the beginning, but he quickly got used to it. My two brothers are magical as well so he just went with it one day."

Hermione didn't even know that McGonagall had any siblings, surprised by the affection in her voice as she continued to speak about her little brothers. She wondered what might've happened to them in the future. Probably Voldemort. He's good at murdering entire families. She thought bitterly but continued to listen to Minerva's hilarious childhood stories.

When it was time to return home, Hermione seriously contemplated to just ask her friend if she could stay with her family for a few days and pretend that life was okay. She watched Minerva skip home and suddenly felt very old in her young body, she most certainly had too many things to worry about for an eleven-year-old.

"Never speak up when not spoken to, nobody cares for the opinion of a little girl so try not to offend anyone with your loud mouth," Rodolphus told her for the umpteenth time, and Hermione had to resist hissing at the older wizard and his obnoxious lessons. She bit her tongue and gave him a curt nod to show him that she'd understood. "Good. Remember, you need to blend in with the other snobby brats in our Lords first circle." He told her with a stern voice, scanning her face for any signs of defiance. Hermione just returned his calculating gaze and huffed.

"You told me to get close to Riddle, why do I have to suck up to his followers as well?" She asked irritated while crossing her arms.

"Stop questioning me and just do as you're told. I know Gryffindors are daft about things like that, but I expected better from the smartest witch of her age." Hermione groaned at his obvious provocation. The man had less patience than a child.

"I'm proud of my house and will not let the hat put me anywhere else." Her sorting was a touchy subject with Rodolphus, he clearly wanted her in Slytherin, whereas Hermione wouldn't accept anything but Gryffindor. When Rabastan had tried to compromise once and suggested Hermione getting sorted into Ravenclaw, the girl had stormed off the table.

"Not this again, you'll tell the hat to put you in Slytherin, end of discussion," Rodolphus said with a finality that did not leave room for arguing.

"Forget it, I'm already doing everything else you told me to do. I won't let you take the last place I feel safe at away from me as well."
She spoke, determined to stand her ground. Rodolphus' eyes turned into slits as he watched the girl, not a single trace of fear in her amber eyes.

"Don't try me, girl. I'm not in the mood for arguments." His admittedly handsome face scrunched up in discontent at her continuous defiance.

I'm a Gryffindor and no amount of threats can convince me otherwise. "No, you can't force me. I'll most certainly not leave Minerva for those slimy snakes!" She pushed herself up, her chair falling back at her forceful move. Seething she stalked towards the doors, determined to stand her ground. Just as she was about to reach the doors, they closed with a loud bang, making Hermione jump at the sudden sound. She turned around to demand an explanation when Rodolphus' eerily calm voice made the blood in her veins run cold.

"Minerva?" He asked, and she knew, she'd messed up. Desperately trying to think of an excuse, Hermione inched as far back away from the angry man as she could. Before she could defend herself, Hermione was hit with the excruciating pain of the Cruciatus and she instantly fell to her knees, crying out as everything in her body suddenly felt as if it was on fire. "I knew it. You were far too quiet for the past weeks." He lifted the curse and left Hermione gasping for air for a few seconds before casting it again, watching her scream in pain.

"Who are you seeing, where do you meet them?!" He yelled over her cries before pausing again, waiting for the sobbing girl to find her voice. When she took too long, he strode over to where she was lying and pulled Hermione up by her tangled hair. Hermione cried out, her small body no longer used to the after-effects of the Cruciatus. Rodolphus hissed at her to answer his question and not able to take another round of the curse Hermione gave in.

"I met her in the village. We didn't do anything I swear, we just talked!" Her body still shook when Rodolphus let go of her hair again and furiously whirled around to look at her.

"Who? Who did you talk with?" He asked through gritted teeth as Hermione tried to get her mouth to function properly again.

"Minerva McGonagall for Merlin's Sake! She will go to Hogwarts next year as well!" She finally managed to say, before her voice broke, still raw from her previous screams.

"The fucking teacher from Hogwarts? She's that old?" Rodolphus seemingly having forgotten about the crying girl on the floor furrowed his brows deep in thought. "Wasn't she a filthy Halfblood?" He asked, and Hermione pulled herself together, ready to defend her role model.

"She was a war hero who killed dozens of Voldemorts men." The slap echoed through the silent room and Hermione could already feel her cheek tingling where his hand had connected with her face. Defiantly looking up at the crazed man, she was more than ready to defend her teacher.

"We don't associate ourselves with filthy blood traitors. Go to your room before I change my mind and just kill you." He sounded as if it took him every ounce of his patience to not just snap at her again.

He clearly has left half his sane mind back in Azkaban. Hermione pulled herself up from the floor, determined to leave before he could change his mind, but her stupid Gryffindor brain forced her to speak the words she knew she'd regret the instant they left her lips.

"Your ancestors must be so proud of you then, raising a Muggle-born as your own daughter." She jeered, positive that he would end her life right on the spot she was standing when she saw his eyes glaze over in anger. Stupid. He's completely lost it. She watched Rodolphus stalk over to where she was seemingly rooted to the spot, bracing herself for his anger.

"Why won't you just shut the fuck up?" He grabbed her chin, leaning down just a few centimetres from her face.

"I despise you more than anything in the world." Hermione spat back at him, feeling his fingers digging harder into her cheeks.

Her body was exhausted, but her mind was on fire. She was done with this farce of a life. It had been over, the moment that man in front of her had killed her with his wand. Whatever their return to this time meant, she just didn't care anymore. She just wanted to move on and be with Ron again.

But Rodolphus had other plans, and she watched in horror, as his eyes cleared up again and found hers. A sane Lestrange was probably even more dangerous than their deranged counterparts. Hermione knew that the man was anything but stupid. Whatever suddenly made him look at her with those cold eyes, she knew it was probably worse than death. "Well, well. Do you think I don't know what you are trying to do?" He caressed her cheek with his thumb still not letting go of her face, and Hermione shuddered at the foreign touch.

"I'll not give you the peace you so desperately wish for. Oh no, you'll stay here with us until we're done." She felt him grab one of her hands, finally letting go of her bruised face. Before she could stop him, he had turned over her hand and cut her palm with a muttered slicing hex. She yelped at the sudden pain and tried to pull away, but he held her arm tightly, continuing to cut his own hand as well. Before she could take a step back, he grabbed her again and put his bloody hand in hers.

Horrified Hermione felt a burning sensation where their blood mixed and listened as Rodolphus chanted a string of ancient verses, hissing when their hands began to glow. Fiercely shaking her head, Hermione tried to escape his vice grip before he could finish what she suspected to be an ancient and very illegal blood ritual.

"Sanguis sanguinem meum, Os et os. Make this child of my house and name." He whispered feverishly, confirming Hermione's worst fears. She felt her magical core expanding, feeding of Rodolphus' own before suddenly snapping back into herself, nearly knocking the girl off her feet. The world was spinning around her and she felt his magic burn through her system, purging it of the remainders of her own magical trace. It felt like liquid fire was coursing through her stomach, burning her from the inside out. Everything hurt and Hermione curled into herself in an attempt to lessen the searing pain in her midsection.

Rodolphus breathlessly watched Hermione holding her still bleeding hand to her chest, growing restless when nothing happened for a few seconds. Then suddenly the girl went to grip her stomach. He watched with sick fascination as her brown curls turned a few shades darker and her already pale skin changed to the shade he knew he and his brother had inherited from their mother.

"What have you done?" She asked hoarsely, and Rodolphus knew that he finally had her where he wanted. Broken at his feet. A manic laugh escaped his lips as he watched the girl trying to collect herself.

"There is not a single drop of filth left in your body, girl. You're truly a Lestrange now."

Her strangled sobs filled the room. He enjoyed the feeling of absolute power coursing through his veins. Potter's Mudblood, the golden girl was no more. No matter how much she would fight it, she was his now. She would realise soon enough what it meant to be a Lestrange. The ways of their society were against her, no one would come to her aid. Questioning the ways how a house raised its children was frowned upon. Any of her claims that they were not her real family wouldn't hold up in court with her now sharing his blood.

Hermione felt like she was going to be sick, she escaped from the hall back to her room, her dress stained with the blood from the cut in her throbbing hand. He's lying. There is no such spell. She desperately tried to tell herself. After finally reaching her bathroom Hermione immediately fell to her knees, heaving over her toilet. At the thought of the man's blood in her body, she threw up.

"Is Missy alright? Should Winny bring Missy something for her wound?" When Hermione heard the high-pitched voice of her elf, she was overcome with the strong urge to smash something, and she angrily turned to the creature at her door.

"Fuck off Winny!" Throwing a roll of toilet paper at the shocked elf, the poor thing broke out in tears and apparated away. Hermione shut her eyes and tried not to think about the little elf while she flushed the toilet and attempted to get up. For once grateful to live in a magical house she commanded her bedroom doors to close and not let anybody else into her room. Struggling to get out of her sullied dress she drew herself a hot bath, still feeling sick to her stomach.

Downstairs, Rabastan found his brother sitting completely still at his desk not even blinking when he stormed into the room. "What have you done brother?" He had felt the blood magic coursing through his body and knew something terrible had happened during his absence. He watched his brothers' face contorted into what he must've thought to be a smile and looked at his younger brother.

"Well, I broke her spirit once and for all Rab. I don't think she'll be making any more problem." Rabastan wasn't so sure about that but chose not to express his thoughts on this topic.

"By turning her into your fucking daughter, really Rodolphus? Was that truly necessary?" He asked exasperated, but his brother just laughed.

"She kept gloating about her oh-so-great heritage. I just couldn't hear it anymore." He abruptly stood up from his table, not even bothered by his still bleeding hand or ruined robes. Rabastan felt like shaking his brother until he understood that what he'd done may have been the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. Rabastan knew that his brother had been affected more than himself by his thirteen years in Azkaban, but the younger brother had hoped that the man would regain at least some of his senses after their breakout.

"What if she decides she can't take anymore brother. What then? We still need her."

Rodolphus shrugged and poured himself a drink at his small bar on the other side of his study. Offering his brother the same, Rabastan just shook his head. "She won't. Her bleeding Gryffindor heart would never allow her to do such a thing." Throwing his head back as he downed his entire drink in one go Rodolphus dropped the empty glass on his desk and walked around his brother out of the room. "Trust me, Rab, I did the right thing. I know you think I've lost it back in that horrible prison, but I'm still not an idiot."

Rabastan watched the retreating form of his brother for a while longer before rolling his eyes and pouring himself some whiskey after all as well.

Back in her own rooms, Hermione had finally calmed down enough to feel like she could face her reflection in the mirror on the wall right next to the bathtub she was still soaking in. She pulled herself up and turned around to face whatever the consequences of that archaic spell were. A young girl with deep rings under her eyes looked back at her, her hair was darker than Hermione's own and her skin several shades lighter than hers had ever been but other than that she still looked like herself. Hermione felt relief wash over her, visibly relaxing in front of the tall mirror. Whatever Rodolphus had done to her, it didn't change who she really was, and Hermione felt like a big weight had been lifted from her shoulders. I'm going to be okay.

While she had been wallowing in self-pity in her bathroom, the sky had turned dark outside her windows. A quick glance at the small clock on her bedside table told her that dinner would be served soon. She pulled herself together and threw one of the ugliest dresses she could find in her wardrobe over her head, not caring about her crazy curls or dark circles. She stomped out of her room, down to the dining hall, ready to show Rodolphus that he wouldn't ever be able to control her. At her entrance, both brothers looked up, surprise written over their equally pale faces. Rabastan was taken aback by Hermione's appearance and her uncanny resemblance to his brothers' late wife before he hurriedly caught himself and nodded at the young witch. Hermione ignored him, instead glaring at Rodolphus.

"Your barbaric ritual means nothing to me." One could cut the tension in the room with a knife as Rodolphus watched his new daughter thanking one of the house elves with a grim look on his face. She looked like a ghost in that dreadful black dress. No, he corrected himself. She looked like his awful wife. He would've laughed at the thought if he hadn't despised that witch so much.

"Finish your dinner and then go to your room, you'll not leave it until I tell you so, understood?" He decided to play along with her charade and watched the girl stabbing her food a little harder than it was necessary.

"As you wish." She smiled bitterly at him and imagined the man suddenly combusting into flames. Never in her life had she loathed a person as much as Rodolphus and she counted the days until they would have to get her a new wand. She'd finally be able to defend herself from his hexes or even better throw his own curses back at the man…

This is my attempt to imagine a more "darker" picture of Hermione's life in the past...This is not a TomxHermione find love and live happily ever after kind of story! Even though I love those, I chose to focus more on Hermione's growth over the years and her achievements. Tom Riddle will still be a sociopath, and the Lestranges will still be…unhinged. So, consider this a warning for Violence, Swearing, PTSD, etc. I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters and make no profit from this story, except for maybe some nice reviews. This is a HermionexMulti ff, meaning that she will have different romantic interests over the years but not, e.g. two at the same time :)