"Headmaster, I- I really appreciate your faith in me. But I really don't think I'm up to this." She thought of Draco, trying and failing to choke back her sobs that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Ms. Granger, none of us are up to any of this," Dumbledore said, smiling sadly. "Unfortunately, just as I did with Mr. Potter, I must ask too much of you. It has to be you." Her mind was running in a million different directions. Images of Draco, Harry, and Voldemort flashed through her head. She knew his plan made sense, but she couldn't do it. There had to be another way.

"But why? Why me?"

"That I cannot tell you. But you will find out in time."

Hermione couldn't help but shoot him an irritated look. So this is what it feels like to be Harry. Shouldering all responsibility with almost no information.

"So I am to risk my life with no information? Professor, I must insist- if I am to do this, I must be prepared." Hermione tried to make her voice sound stronger than she felt. She searched the wrinkles in his face, trying desperately to find understanding, but finding only her own sadness and exhaustion, as though looking into a mirror.

"I quite agree. But this information will only doom your mission, I am afraid. It has to be this way." Kindness shone through his voice, but also finality. He conjured a tissue and handed it to Hermione wordlessly. "I must ask for your answer now."

All she could see was images of Draco, snapshots of their time together, and her mind was clouded by Dumbledore's voice repeating in her mind, "I'm sorry. He's gone." She thought back to their first kiss after the Quidditch game, the moment when she found out his secret, and their last embrace, only hours ago.

But she forced herself to think of another face, another loved one. Harry. She had to do whatever it took, and she had to finish it. She steeled up all of her courage and looked Dumbledore in the eye through a film of fresh tears. "I'm in."

"Excellent," Dumbledore replied. "Why don't you pack and meet me in the Room of Requirement in half an hour? I'm afraid we don't have much time."

Hermione ran back to her dorm, watching for Death Eaters on instinct, although she knew her and Dumbledore were the only ones left in the castle. Hermione wept as she packed, thinking back to how different things were just over a year ago.

"I found you," he whispered in her ear. Hermione turned around, trying and failing to look stern.

"I'm studying. Some of us care about our NEWTs." She hid the title of the book she was reading with her elbow. She didn't want Draco to know that she was actually digging around for information on Horcruxes.

Draco's handsome face darkened for a second before he smiled playfully. "Those aren't for another year, Hermione. Besides, you've been in here for hours." He leaned over and grazed his lips against her bare neck.

"Draco, someone might see."

"No one is in the library this late but you, Granger." He used her last name playfully. After nervously looking around, Hermione said, "five minutes," before grabbing his silver and green tie and enveloping him in a long kiss.

Hermione shook her head, trying to stay in the present. She wiped her face again and started packing. There didn't seem to be much need to pack clothes that she couldn't wear. Instead, she started shuffling through her library, trying to remember what books had been published recently and stuffing all of them into her trunk. She decided to throw in Hogwarts, A History, too, for sentimental reasons.

Ten minutes later, she surveyed her room approvingly. "I think I have everything but you, Crookshanks," she cooed, scooping up her cat and hugging him close. Dumbledore hadn't mentioned her bringing Crookshanks, but she couldn't bear to be separated from anyone else.

Exactly twenty-eight minutes from leaving Dumbledore's office, she made her way to the seventh floor with her trunk and her cat. She found Dumbledore standing right next to the blank stretch of wall.

"Ms. Granger, I'm glad to see you have everything." His eyes wandered over to her cat, smiling slightly. He nodded toward the unassuming wall. "There will be no need for us to go inside. I simply did not want you to pop straight into Professor Dippet's office. I'm sending you back exactly fifty-five years. You will repeat your seventh year, and I think we may be able to convince Professor Dippet-"

"We, professor?" Hermione asked. A small sprig of hope rose up within her, only to be quickly extinguished.

"Yes, we. You see, I will have you report immediately to my past self with this letter," he clarified, handing her a blank piece of parchment. Hermione stared at it, and then Dumbledore.

"I wouldn't bother trying to read it, of course. As I was saying, I think we may be able to convince Professor Dippet to make you Head Girl. There was an unfortunate incident over the summer with Olive Hornby"-Hermione thought of Myrtle's hatred of the girl who teased her shortly before her death, and how Myrtle bragged about haunting Olive, wondering if it was related-"and I know that she will be unable to carry out her duties. In the original timeline, Professor Dippet named a replacement. This time, I hope it will be you. Tom Riddle is Head Boy, of course."

Hermione felt an involuntary shudder run through her body. The idea of trying to get close to Voldemort was not one that was easy to get used to.

As though reading her mind, Dumbledore smiled and reassured her, "I have every confidence in you, Ms. Granger. During the time I am sending you back to, Tom has only two Horcruxes- the diary and the ring. The ring he wears all the time, and you will need to gain his trust to secure the diary." Dumbledore flicked his wand. "I think you will find everything you need in the front pocket of your trunk." Hermione peered in, finding about half a dozen basilisk fangs where nothing was before. "It's always good to pack a little extra," Dumble stated simply, as though he were talking about a pair of socks. "Don't you think?"

"Yes, professor," was all Hermione could muster. Her mind was too focused on the basilisk fangs that now lay in her trunk, a fresh reminder of the impossible task Dumbledore had assigned her.

Dumbledore pulled a time turner out of his cloak. Hermione looked at it incredulously. "A time turner, sir? How will I be able to turn it enough to go back in time fifty-five years? It's not possible."

"You are right, Ms. Granger, that it would be impossible to turn a time turner almost half a million times. Turning a time turner more than fifteen times makes it extremely unstable, and may not send you to the destination you intend."

"Then how-"

"The standard issue time turners, such as the one you used in your third year, use increments of one hour. This particular time turner uses increments of five years." Dumbledore handed Hermione the time turner, who accepted in gingerly.

Dumbledore simply looked at Hermione and nodded. "Eleven turns should do it."

And with that, Hermione wrapped the time turner around her neck, feeling its familiar weight. She thought of her fond memories of the time turner, and the simpler times she used it in. Then, grabbing her trunk and clinging to Crookshanks, she turned it as instructed, closing her eyes as she felt herself pulled back in time.