Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. Anything you recognize in this text belongs to her.

*** September 1st 1997

Hermione Granger paused as she stepped into the Great Hall and observed the odd seating arrangements. The four house tables of her six years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been replaced by smaller tables arranged in a circle. The student body was greatly diminished as a result of the ongoing Wizarding War in Britain, forcing the new Headmistress to make a few changes. The students were randomly seated along the circle of tables, with seemingly no structure as to house or year.

It was September 1st, but a very different September 1st. Of the students gathered in the Hall, only a very small percentage had arrived with the train this very evening. Students had instead appeared at random intervals during the summer months. Most of them came from families severely affected by the war. Their parents might have sent them here for safe-keeping while they themselves worked with or against the Ministry of Magic in its disagreements with Voldemort. Some of the students had gone to Hogwarts against their parents' will, blatantly refusing to leave the school even when their parents judged it unsafe. Hermione didn't think she could have left even if she wanted to. She had given herself a week with her parents at the beginning of the summer, no more. Of course, they knew next to nothing about what went on in her world. Truth be told, they had gotten to know progressively less and less about what went on in their daughters life.

Hermione had been involved in the battle against the Dark wizard Voldemort ever since she befriended Harry Potter on Halloween almost six years ago. And no one could claim she wasn't in for more. Her parents had barely been told of the threat Voldemort posed on the Wizarding society. After they threatened to pull her out of school after the incident with the troll in her first year, she hadn't exactly gone into detail about the dangerous events at the end of the same year. After all - would normal, loving, muggle parents enjoy hearing about their daughter being involved in a chase after a dark wizard, involving her being in the vicinity of the slobbering jaws of a three-headed dog, trapped in Devil's Snare and fighting a game of near-deadly wizarding chess? She had found it even harder to convince them to let her go back to school for her third year after she had spent great parts of her second year lying petrified in the Hospital Wing. Maybe that's why she never told them about the night near the end of her third year she spent with a murderer, a werewolf and an escaped prisoner. She had told them about the Triwizard Tournament when it was announced in her fourth year, but no way was she telling them about the resurrected Dark Wizard who killed one of the Hogwarts champions. Not a whisper reached them about the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's Army or the Department of Mysteries. And Dumbledore? No, Hermione hadn't breathed a single world about Dumbledore.

Letting a small sight escape her lips, Hermione walked further into the Hall. One day she'd tell her parents everything, she swore. One day she'd share all her secrets. One day.

She quickly located her two best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, and went to sit with them. They were engaged in a hushed conversation, but gave her warm smiles as she sat down. Knowing, and being quite tired of, their discussion she let her gaze roam the Hall as she waited for the food to appear. She brushed her hair away from her face with a quick flick of her hand. It was hanging loose this evening, and she was reminded of why she kept it tied away in braids or knots during her hours of research in the library. Hermione's library hours being mostly all day, every day, loose hair was an uncommon occurrence. Her hair was longer than it had ever been by now, and, shaking her head gently to feel the weight of it, would have to be cut soon.

The food suddenly appeared. Even though it was the most unusual of 1st of Septembers, the food was still excellent. She picked a few random selections and slowly began to eat. Letting her eye wander Hermione noticed Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister sitting by herself, observing Hermione and the two boys. Hermione knew Ginny, and was certain that Ginny knew they were up to something. The girl had defied her mother this summer and travelled to Hogwarts when Hermione, Harry and Ron did, but the two boys had been adamant about keeping her out of the loop. As if that was going to keep her safe. Hermione knew they would have to involve her eventually. She was even certain it would keep her safer. What was the use of trying to keep her out of something she would end up being involved in anyway? Was there any point in keeping secrets? Hermione glanced over at Harry. Well, some secrets couldn't be shared quite yet anyway.

Hermione shifted her gaze from again and looked at a boy even further down the circle, a boy with a fair but freckled complexion, a bit on the short side, with averagely brown hair and green-specked brown eyes.

He had been home tutored, he had said when he arrived, by his relatives. Now however, with the war in the open, they had seen it best to send him somewhere safe. Hogwarts is safe, he said and everyone had given weak, far from reassuring smiles.

Hogwarts was once safe, they said, but no one can be certain that Hogwarts is still safe.

He still wanted to stay and McGonagall had agreed. How could she not? She proceeded to put the Sorting Hat on his head.

Gryffindor, it had said, and he gave an odd smile. The smile faded quickly, however, when McGonagall put him through a series of tests in the subjects he would be expected to attend.

But he had been home tutored, she had said, she needed to know how much he knew.

Hermione knew better of course. But she couldn't tell anyone. There was quite a lot Hermione had to keep to herself these days.

Her gaze moved again, running down the circle of students. Neville Longbottom was just coming into the Hall and seated himself next to Ginny. Parvati and Padma Patil were nowhere to be seen. They were some of the first to be pulled out of school. Lavender wasn't here either. Hermione heard her muggle parents had refused her to return, they didn't want to loose her to a war they had no part in. They were wrong. If Voldemort wasn't stopped it would most certainly include them – and the rest of Muggle England. Lillian Moon had also left, leaving only Hermione and Cecilia Spinks in the Dormitory. Cecilia with her light brown hair, wide grey eyes and cheerful way of being was friendly with many, but oddly enough stuck to the more silent Lillian. Parvati and Lavender also stuck together, leaving Hermione with the boys. Dean Thomas was sitting a couple of chairs away from Cecilia. His best friend, Seamus Finnegan, would return to Hogwarts in a month or so, he said. But they'd still lose some. Two Gryffindors had left, and they weren't planning to return anytime soon.

Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley, both Hufflepuffs, were sitting together not too far away from the other seventh year Hufflepuffs; Wayne Hopkins, Susan Bones, Megan Jones, Melinda Rivers and Stephen Cornfoot. Susan, Ernie and Justin had remained at Hogwarts after the events in July and Stephen and Meghan ,who had been made prefect after Hannah Abbott said she wouldn't come back, had returned after three weeks. Wayne and Melinda had returned just the past week. Three of the Hufflepuss seventh years, including Hannah, had left as well.

The Ravenclaws Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot and Michael Corner were sitting together. Anthony, who was a prefect, had arrived a month ago and Terry and Michael had returned tonight on the Hogwarts Express. Since Padma wouldn't be returning, Morag MacDougal had been made Prefect. She was sitting with Mandy Brocklehurst, with Su Li and Lisa Turpin a few seats away from them again. Maverick Runcorn and Kevin Enthwistle, however, hadn't returned and with Padma that made three as well.

Tracey Davies, who looked slightly uncomfortable wearing Pansy Parkinson's Prefect badge, Sophie Roper and Blaise Zabini, who was appointed Prefect after Draco Malfoy, were the only Slytherins in their year to have returned. Hermione wasn't surprised to see Pansy missing. And although Millicent Bullstrode had spent her years at Hogwarts being bullied around by Pansy for being half-blood, Hermione was afraid that the girl had decided to join the Death Eaters. Daphne Greengrass was gone as well, which was no surprise seeing as she was Pansy's best friend. Most of the boys were gone as well.

Hermione turned to look up at the teachers' tables. McGonagall sat in Dumbeldore's old chair of course, with Flitwick next to her as Deputy Headmaster

One of McGonagall's own classmates had been appointed Head of Gryffindor House and Transfiguration Professor. Hermione wasn't sure if he was here because of his transfiguration abilities of because he was a highly qualified Auror and as such able to protect the students in an emergency situation. It didn't matter much anyway.

Beside him was another odd character. He had auburn hair and beard, an odd-looking nose and always wore wonky-looking sunglasses, even inside. Ron, who had apparently seen him duel with Flitwick, who had been a master duellist in his youth, said he was quite skilled, and both he and Harry looked forward to his lessons – the newly instated Duelling Class.

All in all Hermione was pleased. The fact that Hogwarts was up and running, maybe not as a school but at least as a shelter, gave her hopes for the future. The professors would continue teaching the students, but Hermione was glad to see the changes in the schedules. Like Duelling, there were more specified classes that would prepare the older students for the possibility of entering the war and letting the younger ones know what to do with themselves during an attack. And everyone was to be introduced to the art of healing in a special class held by Madam Pomfrey.

When the feast came to an end Hermione, Ron and Harry were among the last to leave. The two boys where discussing quidditch now. The rest of the students, slowly filing out of the Hall, were whispering amongst themselves, discussing the latest news from the Prophet, reciting to each other their parents' strained arguments. And everyone seemed to be looking at Harry at least once. No wonder, seeing as the Prophet had made him out to be the Chosen One.

With a small sigh Hermione pulled out a small object dangling from a golden chain from under her shirt. It was an elegant Time Tuner filled with gleaming white sand. In many ways it was similar to the Time Turner she had used her third year, but a line of small, bronzy knobs along the bottom made all the difference. It was much more powerful than the earlier editions, most of which had been destroyed when Hermione, Harry and Ron had gone to the Department of mysteries over a year ago. The little knobs, totalling a number of seven, could send you as little as minutes or as long as decades out of your own time. Hermione, knowing better, would avoid those buttons and rely entirely on the safely used button that could give her a couple of more hours in the day. A couple of more hours that would most definitively some in handy if she missed a class of needed more time to research something. Hermione draped the chain from one hand to the other and was letting the enticingly beautiful golden Turner slide form one side to the other. It had already come to good use-

Then suddenly someone called her name and Hermione, now halfway up a staircase, made a little jump. She made to turn around, but as her foot landed on a vanishing step she lost her balance. She seemed to be frozen in the air for a second, in an angle from the staircase. Not quite standing but not quite falling. Not able to steady herself she fell backwards, vaguely aware of hands reaching out for her. She landed on her back further down the staircase, but bounced, spun around and saw flagstone flooring looming closer. She stretched her arms protectively out in front of her vaguely feeling as if everything went rather slower that it was supposed to, as if she was suspended in the spell that saved Harry's life during a quidditch match years previous. But no wands had been pulled fast enough to even attempt such a spell and it was only Hermione's perception of everything around her that had changed - her mind speeding along during a rather short span of time. The ground sped towards her rather than the other way around and something blindingly golden erupted in front of her eyes before everything faded to black.

***

She heard voices and felt hands. People were calling for her, but no matter how much she wanted to she couldn't answer them. She wanted to open her eyes, but found she couldn't. She wanted to wiggle her fingers or toes, or move some other part of her body to make people understood she could hear, but it was as if her body and her brain had parted. Not even lucid enough to panic, she fell asleep.

She dreamt of the Christmas Party the past Christmas. She had gone with Cormac McLaggen after Ron began seeing Lavender Brown. She could see herself in the dream, getting ready for the party. It was as though she was there, but in so many ways she was aware of the fact that she wasn't. She thought that her dream was somewhat like how it would be like being in a Penesieve. She hadn't actually experienced that particular experience herself, but had heard Harry's accounts and done some reading on it.

So she floated around in the dream. She vaguely registered that the time seem to pass in leaps and bounds, seeing as one minute she was in her dormitory smoothing out the wrinkles in her new blue-grey dress robes and the next she was standing under a mistletoe at the party with McLaggens lips on hers and his hands roaming down her body. She shuddered at the very memory and was glad to see the dream shift.

She was hurrying down an empty hall and slipping into a rarely used classroom. Voices were drifting towards her from a room further down the hall. She couldn't quite grasp everything that was said in the dream, remembering that even when it happened she had had a hard time figuring out what had been said. She recognized the voices to belong to Draco Malfoy and Professor Snape – and Snape spoke in such low murmurs that she could hardly hear him.

"Aunt Bellatrix … Occlumency, I see …" came drifting and Hermione strained to hear.

"Looks like you'll have to break it, then, because I don't need your protection!" Malfoy practically yelled – Hermione could hear him perfectly, "It's my job, he gave it to me and I'm doing it. I've got a plan and it's going to work, it's just taking a bit longer than I thought it would!"

Hermione looked at herself. She remembered the event very clearly. She hadn't expected to stumble across this conversation when she fled from the Party and from McLaggen. She could see herself standing practically glued to the door listening.

"I've got all the assistance I need, thanks, I'm not alone!"

She remembered how doubts had begun to settle in her stomach during that conversation. She and Ron had been silently ignoring Harry whenever he began talking about Draco Malfoy – and now he was practically begin questioned by Snape, who was a member of the Order!

"They're not the only ones. I've got other people on my side, better people!"

"Then why not confide in me and I can – "

"I know what you're up to! You want to steal my glory!"

Hermione had been utterly confused when that conversation ended. She had remained in the dark classroom for ten minutes after the two of them had left. Her mind had been working at neck-braking speed. Had Harry been right in his suspicion all along?

She followed herself in the dream, confidently making her way through the castle with over five years of familiarity. She saw herself stop suddenly and saw a pale figure framed in moonlight.

When she blinked everything vanished and she turned to another dream.

***

Hermione's mind awakened first as suddenly as one wakes from a bad dream in a dark room. For a couple of minutes she couldn't sense anything and her body wouldn't respond to her minds prodding. But in an explosion of emotions every fibre of her body reconnected with her brain and she groaned in pain. She vaguely heard the scuttling of feet and a cool hand was placed on her forehead. Murmured voices, words Hermione couldn't grasp. Her eyelids strained against the seams of her eyes before managing to open her eyes to the whiteness around her. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the bright light of a room Hermione recognized to be the Hospital Wing. Good, she thought, grateful to still find herself at Hogwarts. Trying desperately to focus Hermione vaguely made out three blurry shapes leaning over her. She closed her eyes again and took a deep breath.

She opened her eyes and froze in shock. Dumbledore was leaning over her bed flanked by McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey. But he wasn't supposed to be here! What was he doing here? His blue eyes twinkled reassuringly from behind his half-moon spectacles, but Hermione felt anything but reassured.

Desperately trying to make her body agree with her Hermione managed to raise herself up in a sitting position with her back against the full pillows. When her vision blurred Hermione groaned, closed her eyes and leaned her head backwards. Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue in a disapproving manner and draped a chilled cloth over Hermione's forehead. Hermione heard footsteps retreating and suspected the nurse was collecting medicines from the storeroom. Hermione's thoughts were spinning off into the distance and she couldn't muster the strength to follow after and allowed herself to sink into the pillows. Soon the nurse returned and commanded that the two professors step back. She turned to Hermione and removed the cloth with a swish of her wand. Hermione tilted her head back up and a scent that reminded her strongly of rotting fruit hit her nostrils. A spoon bulging with potion hovered in front of her lips. After a short glance at the nurse's narrowed eyes Hermione opened her mouth obediently and swallowed the foul-tasting medicine. She battled the urge to vomit and eagerly grasped the glass of water offered her. The cool liquid washed away the layer of potion that coated her mouth and, as the nurse turned back to the selection of bottles lining the table next to the bed, Hermione turned her attention to the two who stood patiently watching her from a short distance. Her eyes ran up and down Dumbledore, her mind desperately trying to figure out why, how, he was standing there. He noticed her stare and grasped McGonagall by the arm. He pulled her into a corner and proceeded to engage her in a hushed conversation.

Madam Pomfrey fed Hermione another two potions before she brought out her wand and let it glide along the length of Hermione's body. Whenever an area started to glow the nurse would mutter an incantation Hermione didn't recognize before continuing. The pain Hermione had initially felt waking up subsided. Eventually the nurse made an approving sound and pocketed her wand. With a nod at the two in the corner she collected her bottles and returned them to the storeroom.

The two familiar figures approached Hermione and Dumbledore pulled two chairs out of the air for them to sit in. She gazed at him, still uncertain of what to call him. Should she call him Headmaster when McGonagall had been appointed Headmistress? Should she call him professor? Albus? But then she shook those thoughts away. What she was going to call him was the least of her problems seeing as he shouldn't be here at all!

"What intrigues me the most," Dumbledore began, "Is how you have come to be found on the floor of the school, clad in Gryffindor robes, pinned with a Head Girl badge non the least, when I have absolutely no recollection of ever seeing you before." Hermione looked at him in shock, everything else momentarily forgotten.

"What do you mean, Professor? I have attended this school since I was eleven!" Hermione's brown eyes darted from Dumbledore to McGonagall and then back again. Dumbledore arched one silvery-white eyebrow and briefly turned his attention towards McGonagall.

"Ah! That should simplify matters greatly."

"I should think not!" she exclaimed with a huff. "I know my magical history, Albus and nothing is simple when one meddles with time!" Dumbledore smiled, obviously amused and turned back to Hermione.

"Minerva her is inclined to believe that you arrived by means of a Time Turner, but seeing as no Time Turner was found at the scene, I, however, am inclined to believe-." Dumbledore was cut off as Hermione gasped and her hands plummeted into the soft covers to steady herself.

"What do you mean 'no Time Turner'?" she demanded, "I had it when I fell!" Dumbledore's eyebrows rose remarkably and he leaned closer to Hermione.

"So you are truly from the future," he mumbled as if to himself. He focused his intense blue gaze on her eyes and Hermione quickly turned away. Her mind was reeling with the information she had gathered during their short conversation. She had travelled in time. That would explain Dumbledore's presence. Headmaster Dumbledore, she thought with a smile. But how far back was she?

"So you did arrive here using a Time Turner," the Headmaster said and relaxed back in his seat. Hermione fidgeted nervously with the bleached sheet on her bed.

"Which year is this?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"1977," McGonagall said studying her reaction closely. Hermione paled and leaned into the supporting pillows. Her thoughts were galloping; trying to gather all the information she had ever heard or read considering this period in the magical history.

"Two years," she whispered, "two years."

"Excuse me?" the Headmaster said, leaning closer. Hermione swallowed with some difficulty.

"I'm born in two years," she whispered.

"Well, we'll certainly try to send you back home," Dumbledore said with a cheery smile. "It might take a couple of months, to say the least, but I'm positive-."

"A couple of months! At least?" Hermione asked, "but I'm supposed to start lessons today, I have-" Dumbledore broke her off smartly.

"There will be time for classes," Dumbledore said reassuringly and gave her an amused smile. "After deciphering the clue that was your Gryffindor robe, we can safely assume that you belong in Gryffindor tower, miss . . .?"

"Granger, Hermione Granger," Hermione said.

"Well, Miss Granger, you will of course continue your schooling here, until we find the proper means to send you back into the future."

"The Head Girl position is unfortunately taken, but we will put you up with the seventh year girls and you will continue your schooling were you left off." McGonagall said patting Hermione's arm affectionately.

"Thanks," Hermione said and managed a small smile.

"I'll have Miss Evans pick you up in the morning," Dumbledore said as he rose from the chair.

"Miss Evans?" Hermione asked wearily, sitting up straight. "Lily Evans?" Dumbledore stood unnervingly still for a moment. McGonagall rose and the two of them exchanged looks.

"Don't tell me you're currently housing Lily Evans and James Potter!" Hermione demanded to know, eyes wide with emotion.

"We'll talk later," the Headmaster said. "And until then you will not tell anyone what you know." Hermione nodded in agreement and dropped back down on the pillows.

With a flick of Dumbledore's wand the two chairs vanished and he left the Hospital Wing with McGonagall in tow. Hermione's mind was working fervently. She was in the past. She was currently lying in the Hospital Wing of a Hogwarts that had already happened, she thought, barely even making sense in her own head; she was in a Hogwarts where Dumbledore was still Headmaster.

And by being here she held in the palm of her hand the destiny of one of her closest friends. Her words and actions could change the wizarding world as she knew it. And Harry could have a chance to know his parents.

But unfortunately for Harry, Hermione had been strictly tutored in the laws of time magic and she knew that whatever she changed could and probably would result in something even worse. Who could tell what Voldemort would become if his own Killing Curse didn't bounce off of Harry, turning back on its creator? Who could tell what grip he would claim on the wizarding world, which lives would never find their ways into existence and which would be brutally ended before their time? And Hermione couldn't risk turning the world she knew and loved into something even worse, only on the mere chance, the hope, that she could make it better.

And Hermione cried into her pillow that nigh, as she battled a voice inside her head, a voice that sounded unmistakably like the little boy who had suffered injustice every day of his life since that fateful day when Voldemort robbed him of his parents.