Disclaimer: Nothing related to Doctor Who or the Harry Potter Series is mine. I swear. I wish I owned them, cuz then I might have a bit more money, but I don't.

Warnings: Mentions of graphic torture. Book One of Three (Main books anyway). Swearing. Sarcasm. I have only watched the new series, no knowledge of early Doctor Who

Dedication: To the Writers and Producers of Doctor Who, thank you for giving me something else to obsess over, now that Harry Potter is long gone.

Book 1: Wanderings of a Witch

Summary: This isn't a love story. This is so much more. A story of a whole universe, and the adventures of Hermione Granger.

Rating: Dark T

Genre: Adventure/Drama

A/N: This is just the beginning of the story. It is three books, which most of the first book is finished. Please comment and tell me if I should continue.

Prologue

This isn't a love story.

At least, not your typical one, where boy meets girl, they fall in love, something gets between them, but they over come the obstacles because they believe that their love is true.

Yes, there is a girl and a boy (well, alien boy, but anyway).

There is love. Requited love and unrequited love. Friendship and romance. Love that stops your heart, and makes you wish you were them.

But this isn't a love story.

This is a story of a universe. Well, two universes, eventually. And parallel worlds. How a single action can spark so much change in the world.

This is a story of magic. Not the magic of love, or some such. True magic. Honest magic. Magic that wizards and witches use.

This is a story of legends. Of myths and beliefs and thoughts and dreams, all wrapped together. The stuff of legends. The Three, and their powers of life and death.

This is a story of growing. Learning who you are after all that has happened. A lot happens. Imprisonment. Old Life. New Life. Death. And the Third.

And this story began with a man. A man who's actions would create a universe.

It all began with a bell.

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the Universe

A bell chimed. The sound echoed throughout the small office, one of many in the building, all working for one thing. Order.

The bell signalled the end of the work day. One of the workers, the Man (they didn't have names here, only Work and Family), was almost finished his required quota for the day, only two more files to complete and finish. One file to end, and one to begin.

The files held everything. Every moment, every thought, every event, every personality. They weren't so much papers, though that's what most imagined them as.

They were workers, taken from their endings and forced to work as punishment. If you began to regret, you had the option of gaining a family, as a reward.

The Man had been working here for longer than he could remember. Time passed differently in this world. It was hard to tell how long he'd been forced into working.

He, unlike many others here, did have a family. A family that would miss him if he stayed at work to complete his quota for the day. His daughter, the Girl, would be very upset if he did not return when he was supposed to. The Woman, his wife, would be concerned that something happened to him, but would understand.

He didn't want to risk upsetting his family after just gaining them. Which is why he decided to put the two files (paper but not paper) into his briefcase, and work on them when he got home. He'd replace them in the morning, under yesterday's work.

Little did he understand the perils of bringing his work home with him would entail.

The Man left the building and began walking home. This world was different than his home world. He'd done some horrible things in his home world. Horrible, horrible things. You had to have done so, if you ended up working here.

His walk home was short, thankfully. His home was small, and it changed, never really formed an image, but what he did see of it, it was beautiful. He entered the house, and left his briefcase on the table in the front room, before going up the stairs and changing into Home Clothes.

The briefcase sat, alone for a few moments, before the Girl waddled in. She looked at it, knowing that her daddy sometimes brought home fun things for her in the briefcase. Happily, she took the briefcase into the next room. She placed it down, grasping at it until her tiny hands managed to get the clasps open.

It swung on a hinge. Inside were the two files (papers but not ever papers). She took them out. The first was labelled DW8392005. She opened it, looked at the pretty pictures, and took a crayon, beginning to add to them. She continued, turning to the next file, labelled HP5461998 and began 'working' on that file. When she determined she was finished, she put the papers (but never really paper) back in a strange order.

It was then that the Woman, her mommy called. Time for dinner. She turned quickly, the files and the papers upending. She stuffed the papers into one of the files, she put both in the briefcase, and ran to put the briefcase back on the table in the front room. The Man came downstairs and together, he and his family had their meal.

Inside the briefcase, something unusual was happening. The files weren't truly files that you could find on any other world. These files contained the story of whole universes. And those two files, the two universes had now been combined. The universes were attempting to understand the crayon squiggles, and everything changed. Events were out of order, reasons needed to be changed and put in a proper order.

When the Man would open his briefcase, he would only find one file, renamed DWHP6252008. He would be too late to change anything. The only thing he could feel good about was that the originals were still saved at work. This was a whole new world. A brand new universe.

And this is that new universe's story.

Forces Balance.

Nothing. It was all I could see. Nothing but the darkness. It was all I could ever see, day in and day out.

Darkness. It's slowly killing me. I bring life. I've always brought life. I shouldn't be here. I never should have ended up here. But I am.

It surrounds me. The Darkness. Makes me weak. I'm so far away. I can barely feel the sun any longer. I long for the sun. I haven't seen it in years. I don't even know it's there any more.

I rarely get news any more. It's been so only since I've had company of any sort, outside of him.

I can barely remember my own name (I'm so close), I've been in this place so long. But I would always remember him. He was the darkness. He is my other half, my brother in all but blood. He would save me if he could, but he can't.

His servant took my friends. The others that were here. I wished he didn't, but he had to give the orders. He never had a choice in the matter. He stumbled into it, head first. It was an accident. So long ago. I barely remember.

A noise.

I glance towards the corner I know is there in my dark cell. A faint light flickered. Showing only shadows. One too many. He was here.

He stood in the corner, watching me with his mournful green eyes. They were lit up, brighter than anything else here.

"You promised me someone would come." I whispered. My voice hurt, it was hoarse. No company means no one to speak to. It certainly didn't help that there was no food service here any longer.

"They will." His voice was everything to me. There are times I wonder if I am simply imagining him. I've been down here along too long.

"When?" I could barely get that word out, but he understood me anyway. It was so hard on my body to speak. It'd been ages since I'd even had water. Anyone else would have died. Anyone but me.

"Soon." I snort, or what passes for a snort when I am so tired. "I swear, a man in a blue box will come."

I give him a look. He seems to understand what I want to say, even though words aren't spoken.

"When?" I may have said the same word before, but there was a whole new meaning attached. The barest outlines of his face changed. The lines grew darker.

"You know the answer to that." I smile at him. My chapped lips break, and blood starts collecting at my lip. I barely notice pain. My smile was void of humour.

He was so convinced that he would never send the order to take me. He couldn't. But I could feel his power seeping in. My every pore could feel it. It had to come soon. It had to end soon.

"Remember. When he arrives, you have to find your bag." He spoke. I knew then that he was going to leave soon. Those were always a part of his parting words. "Do you remember?" I nod.

"Answer." I say. It's so hard to say what I want to in one word, but he understands me. He always has. He always will.

"I could never take you, Hermione Granger." With that, he disappears.

He always disappears.

Because that's who he was, the Master of Death. And I would never die.

A Call that Should Never Have Happened.

I had to leave her. Donna Noble. The memories of last Christmas, with my -.

It was too fresh a wound. It hurt too much.

I was alone. The last of my kind. The final Time Lord. I fiddle with the TARDIS' console some, flipping random switches. The TARDIS misses her too.

It's so quiet. I keep expecting to hear he voice, singing, or joking, or laughing. Or Donna's voice, yelling at me. The silence is overwhelming. Its so different that the last few hours.

The Racnos. I committed genocide again today. I should have died with them, I would have died with them, if not for Donna. I wanted to die.

What use is emotions if you cannot save the woman you love?

I didn't know I could hate Daleks any more, but I can. I'm so angry. I clench my hands into fists until my nails dig into my palms. It's not fair.

I glance up to the console. I make the decision to go somewhere, anywhere. Somewhere louder than this. Somewhere I don't have to think. Somewhere-

Hang on a second. One of the screens in front of my flickered. There was a faint outline of a person.

"She needs your help."

I blinked. Who the hell would contact me? Who's she? My mind, my traitorous mind turned to the woman I'd lost. That was impossible. I tried making the reception better, trying to see who was contacting me.

"Hold on a sec." I tell the image.

"She needs your help."

"Yeah, I got that, thanks." I mumbled. I flick a few more switches, and look up, only to find the screen blank. I look down to the console again.

I reach to turn a knob, pull a cord and begin working on locating where the distress call came from. It would give me something to do, other than think in this lonely box.

The TARDIS began making its wonderful sound. I looked at the centrepiece, going up and down, and whispered:

"Allons-y."

A Meeting that Sparked it All.

It was always so quiet here. No matter what the Master of Death says, I will die here. The walls echo every breath I take, taunting me as if it were my last.

He left so long ago. I don't understand the passage of time anymore. After being stuck underground for so long, you begin to lose track of what's day and night.

It didn't used to be like this, down here. There used to be visitors. And they would show me off, like I was meat on display. Visitors usually meant pain. Almost pain.

I stopped feeling pain long before all this started.

Looking back, the noise should have startled me. I was so used to the quiet of the halls, the soundlessness of the cell I'd grown accustomed to. But I was so close to death. When I finally noticed it, the sound seemed to stop, as if observing it made it disappear. I sat up, the mattress beneath me protesting, and immediately regretted it. My head was spinning and pounding.

There was a voice, calling out. I could barely make out what it was saying.

"Hello? I got a distress signal from here? Anyone home?"

I scream, a wordless sound, using up the last of my strength. I fall back on the mattress. I hope that wouldn't be the last sound I ever make. My head is dizzy. The mattress I'm lying on seems to have moved. It's moving so fast.

I hear pounding. Footsteps. Running footsteps. The voice grows louder.

"Whoever you are, hold on. I'm coming!"

The footsteps falter, as if the voice was confused. It was so dark in here.

"Whoever you are, if you understand me, could you make some noise?"

Finding some strength somewhere, I raise my arm, and try pounding on the walls.

"Yes thank you, brilliant."

The footsteps grew closer and closer. And then, someone was there. At my observation window. A visitor. I stop making noise. Visitors always meant almost pain. But this one didn't. He was starring at me, in horror.

Some of the visitors used to stare at me. But never like that.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He whispered through the glass. "Can you hear me?"

I grin, a smile I wear truthfully. The Master of Death was right. There would be someone to rescue me. I nod, just in case he didn't understand my grin.

"I'm going to get you out." His face was dark. I nod, again. "Right, good." The man pulled something out of his... jacket. I searched my mind for the name of the object, only to come up with... a wand. He pointed it at the glass.

It shattered.

There was a breeze. For the first time in a long time, there was air. I gasped. You don't know how much you miss something until it's gone. The man jumped through the window.

"There was no air in here." Emotions flickered across his face. He crouched down in front of my mattress. "I take it you understand me?" He asked. I nodded.

"Wha-" I take a big gasp of air, "Water." I croak. My voice was even worse. His eyes lit up. He dove into his pocket, pulling out a water bottle and a banana. I take the water eagerly.

I fight with the top for a moment. He removes it from my hands and opens it for me. I guzzle it down. I can feel it already starting to mix with my magic. This should be enough to make me feel a little bit better. I grab the banana from him. I am about to swallow it whole, before I stop. Remembering, I peel it quickly, and then take a large bite.

"Better?" He asks, eyeing me like I would break at any second. I nod. He smiles, before his eyes grow cold.

"How long have you been down here?"

"What day is it?" I ask, my voice quivering. The banana was good, but I know I'll need something more soon.

"That's a good question." The man looked around the room, as if the answer were written on the walls. He walked towards something before turning on the spot. "I'm the Doctor, by the way. And you are?"

The man, Doctor (it's a silly name, but I know a man by the name of the Master of Death. Who am I to argue?) stares at me waiting for an answer.

I search my brain, before responding, "I- I don't remember. It's been a long time." He nods, before getting up and looking around my cell. He continues to talk as he waves around his wand, a buzzing noise coming from it.

"Do you remember anything about yourself?" He asks.

"No. It's gone. All that's left is a title." I spoke.

"What's your title then?"

"Balfowd." I blink, a memory surfacing. "I was, or am, or something. I was famous." Tenses seem to slip away from me the moment they are thought.

He frowns. "I'm sorry. I don't recognize you. Mind you, I don't think I'm from around here." He barely glances at me.

"Do I look that awful?" I ask, grinning. My chapped lip broke agin.

The Doctor turned to look at me. When I saw the lack of recognition in his eyes, I realized:

"You're a muggle?" The word popped into my head. Like a memory long since lost.

"Sure. I'm a muggle." I frown at him.

"You agree to it, and you don't even know what it means?"

"You're the one who identified me."

"But, you had a wand. You broke the glass." Thoughts rush around in my brain, not stopping long enough for me to see them. Was this what I was normally like?

"A wand?" The Doctor looked confused. He looked at his wand again. "This thing? It's a sonic screwdriver. Magic doesn't exist."

"Only a muggle would say that." I bite out. I realize that I'm now standing. I sit down. My head's still spinning. I don't understand. Why would the Master send me away with a muggle?

"Do you know where we are?" He asked. I frown.

"The Freak Show." I grit my teeth (naughty Hermione a memory echos in my head). "At least, that's what they used to call this place, when there were visitors." His teeth clench together. He's seen stuff like this before.

"And you were..." He's reluctant to finish the sentence.

"One of the 'freaks' on display." Suddenly, there was light. The Doctor turns to see he's accidentally prodded a forgotten light switch. He gets another look around the room. He stares at something on the other side. I turn slowly, knowing what I will see. The thing of nightmares. My nightmares anyway.

He was staring at the devices that had been installed on the other side of my cell. The only thing separating my living chambers and the other half of the cell was a thin sheet of glass. Everything on the other side was coated in blood. Dried blood. From so long ago. Almost Pain.

Drills, hammers, chainsaws of every size. Everything was coated in my blood.

"What did they do to you?" The Doctor's voice was pained.

"Tried to kill me." My eyes wandered over the machinery, not really taking it in. I noticed a bright red object and ran to it. Or tried to. The glass wall was in the way. I throw my weight on it, but nothing happens. The Doctor, noticing that I was trying to get it, cracked that glass too. I walked slowly to the object.

My necklace. It was coated in blood, but a quick cleaning charm would fix that. It was important. I looked at the Doctor again. His mouth had hardened.

"How did you survive?"

"I don't remember." I mumbled. My memories were fuzzy at best. It'd been so long.

"That was what they did to you." He said, his voice tight. Angry. "Let's go have a word with management." He turned, his coat twisting in the breeze he created. I followed behind, like a long lost puppy (Snuffles, he was long gone), willingly, grateful for once to not be stuck in my cell. Freedom. The Doctor went to the locked door, crouched so the knob was at eye level, and used his wand – no, sonic screwdriver (Honestly!) and pointed it at the lock. After a few moments, he tried the doorknob and it opened. That should have been impossible.

Inside the new room was a few benches and a row of lockers. I checked each locker, remembering my promise to the Master. Inside the fifth was the purse. My purse. I smiled. Leaving my purse hung, I reached into the pouch, digging deep. I didn't stop moving my hand until my fingers wrapped around one of my familiar pieces of wood. I pulled it out and grinned. My wand. One of them.

During my searches the Doctor had left the room. He popped his head back in.

"You coming?" I nodded, grabbing my bag, and slinging it over my shoulder. If it wasn't weightless, I would barely have been able to lift it. I can feel the strap on my visible bones.

I followed the Doctor for a few minutes until we seemed to come to a board room of some sort.

Out from the shadows stepped a man.

"Are you running this place?" The Doctor snarled.

"Hardly." The man said. I knew that voice.

"Master!" I cried. I ran past the Doctor and threw my arms around him, holding him tight. He was right.

"Master?" The Doctor asked, his voice going strange.

"Not the Master you are thinking of." The Master of Death spoke.

"Really doesn't install confidence when you know who I'm talking about."

"Trust me. I mean you no harm Doctor." The man smiled. "We've met before, in my time line. However, we have yet to meet in yours."

"I get that a lot."

"I have been protecting Hermione from harm, and keeping her company, so she does not forget herself entirely."

"Hermione?"

"Hermione Granger. That is her name."

(Hermione Hermione we've got to run Hermione, can't I just copy your essay HERMIONE!)

My head started to throb. I grabbed it, a futile attempt to get it to stop, and sank to my knees.

"What happened?"

"She's starting to regain some of her memories. She's been mostly alone for almost sixty years."

"She barely looks twenty!"

"Doctor, you definitely don't look your age." The Doctor blinked.

My headache disappeared almost as quickly as it came. I stood back up.

"If you've been watching her this whole time, why didn't you save her?"

"That would create a paradox." A simple answer.

I sigh. "I asked you to watch over me, didn't I?"

"You're my sister in all but blood. I would have even if you didn't."

"What else did I tell you?" I looked at him, but he wouldn't meet my gaze.

"Not much else I can tell you anyway." He smiled, darkly. "You can't know."

"That would create a time paradox too." The Doctor inserted.

I look between the two men. "So, the Doctor just rescues me, and then you take care of me?" I ask, confused. The Doctor's eyes widened. There was a silent conversation between the two men, one I wasn't privy too.

The Master spoke first. "You were going to ask her anyway. It's the way she held herself, I believe you told me." His eyes twinkled, as if he had a humerus secret he wasn't telling us.

"You're going to be coming with me, actually, if you'd like." The Doctor said to me. The Master of Death turned to me.

"I wish you'd stop calling me the Master of Death. I have a perfectly good name." I looked into his eyes for a moment, and then a name surfaced. (Harry James Potter, don't you scare me like that again!)

"Harry. Harry Potter." Harry smiled.

He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. "Hermione. I've missed you so much."

"You know you could always come with us." The Doctor offered.

"Can't actually. For a few reasons. My boyfriend would be very upset for one."

"Your boyfriend?" I asked, interested.

He grins. "Yep. In fact, you two ended up bringing us together." He gives a nod to the Doctor. "So, Doctor, until I meet you for the first time, then?"

"That's when we'll meet next?" The Doctor asked, confused for a second.

"Time travel always gives me a headache too, and I don't travel. This is the last meeting between the three of us in Hermione's timeline, before you meet me for the first time." Harry grinned.

"That is a little confusing."

"Time always is." I whisper. I shock my head, unsure where that came from. Both men look at me.

Harry swallows. "Doctor, she should remember all of her memories before we meet again. She never told me how it happened, only that it did."

"How do you know about the Master?" The Doctor asked, "He's dead."

"I swore I wouldn't tell you." Harry looks back at me. "I don't know if you will understand this, but it is very important that you remember it until you do. 'Headquarters will be revealed when you solemnly swear.' Okay? Will you remember?"

I give him a grin. "I remembered my bag Harry, I think I can remember that 'Headquarters will be revealed when I solemnly swear. I may not understand it, but I'm not Ron." I trial off, confused. Who was Ron?

"You remember Ron?" Harry asks, eyebrows raised. I shake my head. He seems to visibly deflate. "Maybe it's time for the two of you to go."

"Perhaps it is best." The Doctor said. Harry nodded, before backing up.

"Until next time." He said, before disappearing.

"That's eccentric, right there." The Doctor said.

"That's Harry." I whispered.

"Well then, lots to do. Perhaps we ought to get you to a hospital."