4th November, 1957

Department of Mysteries

"I almost don't want you to go," Minerva murmured as she and Hermione sat in the waiting room of the Time Department, both relishing in the warmth of the place compared to the icy weather out in London. "It's been such fun having you here, Jean."

Hermione smiled, despite feeling guilt at Minerva's optimism, and lack of her own. She hadn't been holding any sort of hope for today's meeting with Yelena Artlock. Nothing whatsoever, from her knowledge of history or fairly solid gut instincts, gave her the impression the Time Department had created a way to take her back home. If they had, she would have assumed it would have happened within days of her arrival, instead of waiting around until her first Ministry check-in. It just seemed far too reckless.

"Even if Station's Pier was a disaster," Minerva continued with a guilty smile. "Even I couldn't have known it was an illegal venue. It's probably good we all disapparated before we could be arrested; you're meant to keep a low-profile while you're here, and I doubt Madam Artlock would approve of you getting a criminal record- Sorry, I'm rambling," Minerva sighed, running a hand through her hair. "This place just gives me the creeps."

"It's ok," Hermione said, nudging Minerva with her shoulder. "And besides," she sighed, "I have a feeling you wont be rid of me yet, so you will have plenty of more chances to end up in a muggle jail cell with me."

Minerva snorted at that, and quickly turned it into a harsh cough as the receptionist looked up at them both from his desk with a scowl. "Well, if you're right," she said quietly, "And you're still here at the end on your meeting, I'll endeavour to do my best."

"Deal, Minnie Mouse," Hermione smirked, just as Yelena Artlock appeared from around the corner and called for Jean Gray.

"Good luck," Minerva said, giving Hermione an encouraging pat on the back as she stood up to follow Yelena.

Instead of Yelena leading Hermione to her office, they continued down the hall. Hermione followed Yelena through a maze of different doors – some she even recognised from her own days working within the intertwining departments – all the while the Time Witch was explaining that she wanted to show Hermione their research so far before bothering with the paperwork and questions.

"Fine by me," Hermione said, eager to see if the department was as useless as she so far thought. Yelena had been nice enough so far, but niceness wasn't a way back to the future.

"Welcome to the Time Chamber," Yelena said as she opened yet another door. "Don't touch the Sand, who knows where you'll end up. Now, Agent Granger, let us speak plainly," she said, closing the door with a wave of her hand. Hermione heard several locks click into place, and she couldn't help but look around. While this room was vastly different to what Hermione remembered the Time Chamber looking like during her none-too-pleasant encounter, she did see the wall of time-turners she'd inevitably end up destroying in just under 40 years.

Yelena must have seen where Hermione's eyes were focused, because she chuckled and said, "Don't get any ideas – they're capable of a maximum twelve hours travel backwards, and one hour forwards. Unfortunately," she added, with a wince of sympathy.

"I know," Hermione murmured, tearing her eyes away. "You were saying?'

"Yes," Yelena said, purple robes swirling around her as she walked, "Plainly speaking, our department has never really been focused on travelling to the future. Miss Mintumble, who I'm sure you've heard of-" Hermione nodded, "-Has so far managed our largest jump forwards, but that was only because that jump was the delayed equal and opposite reaction to her travelling back. Furthermore, she travelled with a device – an archaic form of a time-turner prototype – that was her anchor to her present, which allowed her to control that reaction. Are you following so far?"

"Yes," Hermione said.

"Good," Yelena smiled. "Time travel is basic physics, we just use magic to challenge the laws. The problem with you is that you didn't travel with a device that allows the equal and opposite reaction to take place. Lack of device also means no anchor to your original Time to control the reaction – to make it rebound and send you home. You seem to have fallen through Time itself, through a rift or a portal-"

"There's a difference?" Hermione asked, interest piqued immediately.

Yelena smiled. "Oh, yes, there certainly is, but we're fairly protective of that information," she said. "Without a device that anchors you to where you came from," she continued, "Returning you is beyond our current capabilities. What we are doing," she said reassuringly as Hermione frowned, "Is trying to understand how a rift or the like could be intentionally created to send you back."

Hermione felt completely out of her depth at the turn of the conversation. She realised now that she only understood the absolute basics of time travel and time magic. Using a time-turner to do a class seemed to be barely the tip of the iceberg compared to talks of rifts and the endlessly high walls full of Merlin knows what in this room. A waterfall of sand, dozens of different time-turner designs, clocks absolutely everywhere, and sand rippling above their heads. Even the table she was standing in front of looked to her like a portal of some-sort, with the marble appearing to swirl into itself. Time travel was clearly only one element of Time magic.

"Why are you telling me this?" Hermione asked. "I have a feeling half of what you just told me is reserved only for those who study the magic."

"Oh, it is," Yelena said lightly. "Everything said in this room is to not be repeated to anyone, I trust you understand-" Hermione nodded quickly, "-But I felt – Unspeakable to Unspeakable – you deserved a bit more than a 'Sorry, we haven't had any luck, see you again in four months'."

"That's very kind of you," Hermione said. "That still doesn't explain why the Time Department from where I'm from haven't created a way."

Yelena cocked her head to the side. "I've been thinking about that issue. There's two wars between now and where you're from, correct?"

"Yes," Hermione answered. "And a muggle one," she added fairly.

Yelena hummed. "Well, it's common practice for us to lock or destroy our research if our security is under threat. Perhaps your enemy was worthy of the latter if they were dangerous enough," she said sympathetically.

Hermione's eyes widened. All of this research could be for nothing? It could be destroyed? She let out a breath to calm herself, and swallowed hard, trying very hard not to think of ways to eliminate Tom Riddle in 1957. It was quite a tempting notion.

But the memory of the Ministry falling and coming under the control of the Death Eaters… Well, Hermione would certainly want the Time Department safe, even if that did mean destroying the work. "If the Ministry fell under the control of the enemy, you would destroy research, wouldn't you?" Hermione asked. Truthfully, she and her team at home would probably set fire to their entire department if something like that ever happened again.

"Absolutely," Yelena said straight away. "It's one of our protocols."

"Ah," Hermione said bitterly. "Well then, that explains it. I don't blame you people at all, actually," she added fairly, now that she was processing thoughts more rationally.

Yelena nodded slowly as the implication sunk in. "Just because information is destroyed, doesn't mean it's forgotten," she said kindly. "We have ways of retrieving it."

Then hurry up! Hermione wanted to say, but instead, she gave a smile, and resigned herself to still being stuck in 1957 indefinitely. It was no way of living, being so unsure of the future, not knowing if anything was worth doing if the Ministry could notify her of a way home at any moment. "So I just stay here, then?" Hermione asked. "In the 50's? Can I change jobs, can I travel? Can I live in the Muggle world?" She'd started pacing to try and clear her head, feeling her anxiety rise. "All your research here is great, Madam Artlock, but in 1997, at the latest, all of it will most likely be destroyed, so I feel as though you're wasting your time-"

"If that is what happened," Yelena said patiently, placing a hand on Hermione's arm to calm her, "Then we're most likely retrieving what was lost. It takes time, but it is possible. As to your other questions," she continued, slowly easing them closer to the door, "You're free to live and do whatever you wish, although studying is not one of your options just yet," she said. "I'm still working on that, by the way," she informed Hermione as she navigated them out of the winding corridors. "You're able to do things in the muggle world sooner than the wizarding world, I believe. Also," she said, placing her hand on a door handle, but not opening it, "Why did I get an information request about you from Chief Justice Roderick Smith?" she asked, eyebrow raised to the point it disappeared under her blonde fringe.

"Umm," Hermione trilled, having only a moment to decide which words to use to answer. "We met through Albus Dumbledore. He didn't quite take to me. I was a bit too progressive, I think," she said, lips twitching slightly. The change of subject had calmed her down, at least, for which she was grateful.

Yelena gave a smile that suggested to Hermione that she was familiar with the Chief Justice. "Keep out of trouble. If you need anything; money, forgeries – you know where to find me," she said as they got back to the public part of the Time Department.

"Thanks, Madam Artlock," Hermione smiled, unsure if she would ever take up the offer but grateful to know it was an option all the same.

"Oh, one more thing," Yelena said before they parted ways at her office. "if you can remember anything at all about how you got here, or would like to list some potential theories about it, do owl me. If we know how you created a rift, we could send you home and the future wont need to worry at all."

Hermione felt relief wash over her at the thought, especially if research had been destroyed during the war. She hadn't given a thought to how she arrived in 1957 in far too long – it often lead to an awful headache – but if it meant finding a way to go home, she'd suffer through it. As she bade Yelena farewell, she realised she had an awful lot of thinking to do once she was back in Hogsmeade. She was suddenly very eager to get out of London.

Luck was not on her side, however, as just as she and Minerva had emerged in the Atrium of the Ministry from the lifts, they almost collided with Milly and Rufus, who both recovered fairly quickly from the near miss. "What the bloody hell are you two doing here?" Milly asked, blinking quickly as though she doubted her vision.

"Running errands," Minerva lied quickly as the four of them moved away from the entrance to the lifts. "Dragged Jean along; someone else should have to suffer Ministry wait-times with me," she added, earning a knowing snort from Rufus.

"Tell me about it," Milly said with a roll of her eyes. "We knock off in five – drink?" she asked, looking at Minerva, Hermione, then Rufus expectantly.

"Paperwork," Rufus said apologetically, however Milly was having none of it. "Do your friggin paperwork at the pub, Christ," she muttered, shaking her head. "Really, you Aurors," she added, rolling her eyes once more. "Try being a law clerk, you'll have paperwork coming out of your arse, and your ears, and you'll have to work on them both simultaneously."

Hermione stifled a snort at Rufus' indignant swallow, and he smoothed over his robes pointedly. "Drinks it is," he sighed, with a crooked smile.

"Well count us In," Minerva said happily, amusement lighting up her eyes at Rufus and Milly's exchange. "We'll teach you how to multi-task, Rufus, don't you worry," Minerva added in a sickly sweet voice.

"He's fond of you, you know," Minerva murmured once Rufus and Milly had gone up to gather their effects. "You should give him a chance."

Hermione pulled a face at the implication. "Nope. Not happening," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Oh, come on, why not?" Minerva teased, lighting up a cigarette once they had found a spot to wait by the fountain. "You might as well have some fun while you're here. And he's married to his job, anyway, so long-term is the last thing on his mind, if that's your concern."

That wasn't Hermione's concern, but she didn't want to go into her real ones. She was over thinking about the future for the day. "Why is he even interested?" she lamented, lighting up a cigarette of her own just to keep herself calm. "I'm a barmaid. I'm trying to be as inconspicuous as possible."

Minerva laughed. "Any female who can beat him in a duel generally catches his eye," she explained slowly.

"I haven't beaten him in a duel," Hermione frowned.

"Yeah, but you could," Minerva grinned. "Pretty sure that's a turn on for a man like Rufus."

"Okay, no, we are not having this conversation," Hermione said, throwing her arms up into the air.

"What conversation aren't we having?" Milly asked in a sing-song voice from behind them.

Hermione froze as Minerva snickered. "Just trying to convince Jeanie that there's plenty of grindylows in the sea," Minerva said sweetly, earning a glare from Hermione. "Oh, I see Rufus has brought moral support," she added.

Hermione looked up to see Rufus hurrying to catch up to Milly, with Edgar and Alastor at his side.

"Well he was out-numbered," Milly said fairly.

As the men approached, Hermione saw Rufus visibly cringing at something Edgar and Alastor were dramatically recounting with vivid arm movements. They reminded her of Fred and George Weasley, with their theatrics and mischievous glints in their eyes. She hid a sad smile as she finished her cigarette, wondering just what exactly this evening would turn into with the new additions to the group.

4th November, 1957

Old Bell Tavern, London

Drinks had turned into dinner, and much to Hermione's private amusement, the chosen pub destination was one that she herself used to frequent in her own time. Not all that much had changed; even the menu still had most of the same dishes. It gave a shiver down her spine as she realised the timelessness of it all. She'd spent a similar lively evening at the tavern with Ron, Harry, Ginny, Luna, Charlie, Neville and Hannah a year ago, her and Harry having decided to show their pure-blood friends more of muggle London to broaden their horizons.

It was interesting for Hermione to see the differences in culture and society now that she had experienced more of the 1950's. The more information Hermione had come to learn and compare, it seemed Minerva's group of friends were somewhat of an anomaly – people who mixed the muggle and wizarding world seamlessly. Hermione had always tried her best to remain close to her muggle roots, but most muggleborns and half-bloods that she knew assimilated into the wizarding world completely.

Even here, Edgar Bones – the very epitome of a wealthy pureblood – was comfortable around cars and handling muggle money. Rufus had used a telephone box on the way to the pub to call his sister and invite her to join them, Alastor frequently spoke of muggle sporting games, and Milly was extremely familiar with both muggle and wizarding law and politics. Ingrid, of course, was living completely as a muggle, having turned her back on the wizarding world entirely since getting a job as a nurse in a muggle hospital. She even caught a taxi to the pub when she joined them.

It was baffling to Hermione. She could never imagine Ron, or Ginny, or even Luna, or any of her co-workers so at ease with blending the two worlds. She couldn't help but wonder if the first war had something to do with the societal change, perhaps as a way to keep muggles safe after Voldemort, or if it happened in the 70's during his reign of terror. Maybe that's what I'll do if I can't get home, Hermione thought idly as her dinner companions gossiped about people from their Hogwarts days, write an accurate historical manifesto of wizarding society changes.

She smiled to herself as she took a sip of cider, and picked at the plate of chips in front of her. Really, she had grown quite fond of Minerva's group of friends. She wasn't quite sure how they all fit together – they were all so different – but she vaguely remembered Minerva mentioning that they were all a part of the same study group at school, which their younger siblings were continuing. Considering Hermione's own school years were on the precipice of war, and hatred seemingly rooted in certain students, she actually liked to listen to them all reminiscing at what a 'normal' Hogwarts education was like. She felt she had missed out a little bit. And given Jean Gray's cover story was that she was educated privately, she had every excuse to ask for more details on education at a magical academy without looking too odd.

"And Sluggy's mellowing – a muggleborn is in his little club now," Minerva said, as Hermione started paying attention again. "Mary Princeton, one of the little Puff's that follows Amelia around like she's the greatest thing in the world. Exceedingly good at potions. Do you know, I think he's changed a bit since seeing us all last month."

"Well that's about time," Ingrid said bitterly.

"It was probably you that did it, Ingrid," Alastor smirked. "A precious Slytherin, going Muggle? Surprised he didn't have a heart attack."

Ingrid laughed into her beer. "Still the best thing I ever did," she grinned.

"You look happier," Rufus commented, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Why thank you, big brother," Ingrid smiled. "See, Ed? He is nice sometimes."

"Well I've yet to see it at work," Edgar grumbled as he ate his dessert. "You're awful to me."

Even Hermione laughed at the pathetic display.

"Why don't you pick on Crouch for a change? He's an arse. He deserves it," Edgar continued, earning more snickers from the group.

Rufus sighed, and rubbed at his dark eyes. "Because I see potential in you, Bonsey," Rufus groaned. "Crouch wont last two years out in the field, he'll transfer to the 'Mot because he likes those stupid hats more than preserving the peace. I'd rather not waste my time on him."

Hermione took another sip of her cider to hide her impressed smile. If they were talking about the Crouch she thought they were, then Rufus was certainly perceptive.

"Is this Barty Crouch?" Minerva asked. At Rufus's nod, Minerva pulled a face. "Twat."

"Don't like him?" Hermione asked.

"Nah," Minerva replied. "Complete bigot. You'll hate him," she winked.

"Dolly Umbridge currently has her sights set on him," Milly grinned wickedly. "I wish them a happy life," she said dryly, raising her class in toast. All around Hermione, she heard her companions choking on their drinks.

Minerva, however, unleashed a cackle that was almost terrifying. "Oh, those two deserve each other," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "Someone, fill Jeanie in on Dolly, I need a moment," she said, overcome with a fit of giggles, and quickly scampered off to find the bathrooms.

Hermione had a hunch as to who they were referring to, and she took great delight in hearing about the general dislike everyone at the table had for one Dolores Umbridge. Ingrid had been in her year at Hogwarts, and had shared a room with the woman for seven years. Hermione could think of nearly nothing worse than that. "She's just awful, quite frankly," Ingrid said before the conversation got out of hand – nearly everyone had an encounter that they wanted to share. "A bully, racist, bigot, just…"

"Not pleasant," Alastor said. "Ran into her the other day – still wears that bow on her head."

"Anyone who called her out on her behaviour usually ended up hexed," Edgar said. "Me and Min caught her in the act once – we locked her in a broom cupboard for the night, because that's what she'd done to poor Winifred Higgins the week before."

"She never reported us, either," Minerva said cheerily, as she returned to the table. "She kept away from me after that, but I think it was the ribbit stutter I gave her for 24 hours, rather than the broom cupboard."

"Impressive bit of human transfiguration for a fifth year," Ingrid commended, raising her glass of wine in acknowledgement.

Hermione was quite shocked that Minerva McGonagall – the woman who had no qualms taking over a hundred points from Gryffindor if the situation called for it – was capable of doing such a thing, and as a student! It certainly made her see her fifth year with Umbridge on the staff in a whole new light. Professor McGonagall seemed to have been one of the few members of staff who wasn't afraid of the Pink Toad, as Umbridge had been called by most. The things you learn, Hermione mused to herself.

"It's getting fairly late, we should all probably get going," Milly said after a lull in conversation.

"It is a school night," Minerva agreed.

"And I'm on breakfast shift," Hermione muttered, fishing out her purse to find some muggle money for the bill. She also checked her watch and saw that it was nearing 10pm – she'd only get six hours sleep at this rate.

"We should do this again, though," Alastor said once the bill had been paid and everyone had put on their jackets and scarves and were headed to the door. "It was fun."

With general murmurs of agreement, followed by a multitude of swear words as they got out into the freezing evening air, the group slowly disbanded; Ingrid hailing a cab, Alastor and Edgar heading to the side alley to disapparate, and Minerva gave Hermione a hug and whispered, "I'm so glad you're still here. Also, you right getting back to Hogsmeade on your own? Going to stay with Mills."

"Yeah, I'll apparate," Hermione said. "Have fun with Milly," she added, waggling an eyebrow. Minerva gave a very self-satisfied smile, reminding Hermione that her friend's personality really was that of a cat sometimes.

"Oh, I will," Minerva smirked. "If she and Rufus ever stop discussing work," she added, looking over Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione turned and followed Minerva's gaze, seeing Rufus and Milly deep in conversation in very hushed voices.

"They're working on a case together," Minerva elaborated, before Hermione even had the chance to ask. "Hey, you two!" Minerva yelled at them, "Work's over, time to go home."

Milly gave a mock salute, while Rufus rolled his eyes, and the four of them quietly ducked into the side alley, away from the eyes of any muggle passers-by. Hermione pulled her jacket tighter around herself, and decided that if she was to be here any longer, she really must invest in a pair of gloves and some thicker socks and stockings.

"Jeanie," Minerva said, in a tone that suggested she wanted something. "Do you have any of that magic hangover cure you gave me last month?"

Hermione exhaled slowly and laughed softly. "Yes, I do," she said.

"Enough for two?" Milly asked hopefully. She at least gave an apologetic smile.

"Yes, I do," Hermione said again, "Will I be seeing you both for breakfast, then?"

"Yes," Minerva answered quickly. "Bye, both of you," she trilled, before twisting on the spot with Milly and the two women disapparated before Rufus and Hermione even had a chance to return the sentiment.

Hermione laughed softly, and turned to an amused Rufus. "To think, she's trusted with our nation's youth," she said, shaking her head. Maybe Dumbeldore is mad, Hermione thought idly.

"It is a rather daunting thought," he grinned. "It was good seeing you, Jean. Sorry if the conversation was mainly about our Hogwarts escapades."

"Oh, no, I found it all amusing," Hermione assured him. "How you put up with Ed and Al, I really have no idea."

"I get paid well," he said, causing Hermione to laugh. That was usually her answer as to how she put up with drunk customers. "They're not too bad, really," he continued, "But put a pretty girl and alcohol in front of them and it's like wrangling children."

"I had friends just like them back home," Hermione said, ignoring the twinge of sadness she felt. "You need jokers in this world, life is awful without them."

"They do keep morale up, I'll give them that," Rufus said fairly. "I dread the day that light dies. It's inevitable in this job. You start second guessing everything, and everyone, you're always on the defensive…"

Hermione didn't want to think about the future of Alastor and Edgar. She knew it wasn't pleasant.

"I see that in you sometimes, actually," Rufus said, and Hermione was suddenly aware of how close they were standing together. How concerned his frown was. "Someone who's too careful. I'm just saying that if… If you ever need anything, I can-"

"That's very kind of you, Rufus," Hermione said quickly, "But I left all my problems in France. I'm fine here." She tried to smile, and really, really wished she could close the proximity between them. But it was wrong, she didn't want to toy with people when she knew full well that she could leave at any moment. It wasn't fair. "I should get going, I have a 5am start," she said, taking a step back and averting her gaze from his dark eyes. "It was wonderful seeing you, Rufus."

"You too, Jean," he said. He stepped back to allow her space to apparate, and with a final wave, Hermione disapparated with a soft pop.

She materialised at the back of the Three Broomsticks, and quietly slipped upstairs to her room, too tired and cold to be feeling so many emotions and having so many thoughts. Her mind was going too fast, jumping from various parts of her conversation with Yelena Artlock, to wishing she could remember her final day in the 21st century, to how much she was enjoying her time here in 1957 and how conflicted she felt over growing closer with anyone, let alone someone she knew to be dead.

She quickly changed into some warm pyjamas, took a potion to help her calm her mind, and took far too much pleasure in punching her pillow into a more fluffier state. She blamed Lord Voldemort for this. If he hadn't taken over the Ministry and caused the Time Department to destroy their backlog of work, she'd probably be home right now. Even in death, he still managed to annoy her to her very bones. "Evil bastard," Hermione grumbled just before sleep claimed her.

17th November, 1957

Hogsmeade

The cooler weather meant, surprisingly, even more business for The Three Broomsticks. Hermione honestly thought that people would prefer to remain in the warmth and comfort of their own homes during winter – at least, that's what she was known to do given her general hatred of the cold – but it seemed that the local pub, with their warm mulled wine and steaming hot French onion soup, was a second home to many.

The noise that all these customers made collectively, however, seemed to travel throughout the entirety of the bar and up to the hotel rooms, a fact which made Hermione throw dark glares around her room every few minutes or so. She was trying to meditate, to try and remember absolutely anything from her last day in 2001 in order to help Yelena and the rest of the Time Department, but the constant noise interruptions were making it very difficult.

She'd been trying this method any chance she had, often finding herself awake in the early hours of the morning and focusing on her breathing, and recalling the Indian food she'd eaten, and what it was like falling into her bed near midnight after working on removing a curse from a ring that had been confiscated from the Malfoy vaults years ago. It had been her pet project, one that had been part of the backlog from the post-war raids.

She wondered if she'd been working on that when whatever happened that sent her through time, but nothing about that ring had suggested anything relating to time magic. A flesh rotting curse, yes, as well as a numbing spell, but considering what the overall curse for the ring had been designed for, she didn't see why time magic would even have been included. It was a cursed ring designed to end an engagement in a rather grotesque way, not send the poor 'unfit to be a Malfoy' woman to the past.

Even so, she tried visualising her office, her lab, walking in at 6:30am, large takeaway coffee in hand, and the rest of her morning routine. But so far, it was all merely memories, rather than a new recollection. She had been working on several different cases before she left, and the Aurors had just finished a raid, so a multitude of new evidence and items had arrived for them to work through.

Any single one of them could have caused an explosion. But none of the families that were currently under investigation by the Dark Arts Department had any links to Time Magic, nor interacted with families that were tied to the secretive area of study. With the exception of Augustus Rookwood, Hermione didn't know of any corrupt Unspeakables with ties to dark families.

Groaning loudly, she knew that this line of thinking was helping no one. Meditating was useless, she always got lost in her own thoughts. She didn't really want to go down the magic rout to retrieve her memories, but it seemed like it would be her only option.

Then there was the matter of who to trust to help her.

Putting that thought to one side, Hermione hummed as she sat up, deciding that she wanted to try Veritaserum before getting someone to use Legilimency on her. She had been procrastinating for months over asking Albus about the current laws pertaining to that particular potion, but she knew for a fact that the current recipe for 1957 used ingredients that were known to her to be unstable.

While part of her wanted to head straight to various apothecaries for ingredients to brew her own, she knew she hadn't even a third of the funds to buy all that she would need. Crushed Unicorn hair cost more than her monthly rent, and the recent addition to the recipe created in 1999 called for Dementor scales. She didn't even know if that was available in 1957, let alone the cost.

Instead, Hermione headed over to her desk to write a letter she really hoped she would never have to write.

Dear Madam Artlock,

I have had an idea to retrieving my memories, however a rather expensive potion is required that I would need to brew, as the current recipe in 1957 is not as accurate as I would like. Would it be at all possible to schedule a meeting to discuss this option?

Many thanks,

Jean Gray

Swallowing pride was difficult for Gryffindors, but, she reasoned with herself, this potion wasn't just for her. She was sure the Time Department could find use for it. Maybe.

Since she still had several hours until the start of her shift at work, Hermione decided to at least scope out the market and see what was available before sending Yelena the letter. If she couldn't get the scales, the whole endeavour would be useless. She hadn't a clue where one would even get access to such an ingredient, but figured Knockturn Alley was most likely a good place to start. She knew most of the apothecaries in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley and they rarely stocked dark ingredients. Trust Severus Snape to mix dark and light to create such a flawless potion, Hermione thought to herself as she transfigured her dress into something Bellatrix Lestrange would wear, and turned her blue cloak black and more ragged.

She quickly placed a glamour over her face and hair – the same one she'd used last time she'd paid a visit to Knockturn Alley – and put herself under a disillusionment charm to slide out of the building unnoticed, before apparating to London in a whirl of black robes and red hair.

1st July, 2001

Ministry of Magic

Kingsley found himself wanting to call it a day when he saw who was waiting for him outside his office – Harry Potter, who just so happened to be Hermione Granger's best friend. He didn't even know how to begin to tell the Boy Who Lived what had happened to Hermione. Merlin, he was still processing the situation himself.

"Kingsley!" Harry called, breaking the Minister out of this thoughts. "Mate, please tell me you know something, no one – not even the Healers – will tell me what's going on," Harry rushed, and Kingsley realised that the boy – man, he corrected, looked as though he hadn't slept a wink. "Gawain's team has been told to bugger off, Rita Skeeter's owling me for a comment-"

Kingsley gave an involuntary shudder at the name of the reporter, and held up a hand to get Harry to calm down. "Come into my office, Harry," Kingsley said, opening the door to let Harry in first, "And take a seat, this is going to-"

"Kinglsey, just tell me," Harry said bluntly as Kingsley closed the door. "If my best friend's dead-"

"She's not dead," Kingsley assured him quickly, and Harry's eyes widened. "She's…"

Harry winced as he said, "Don't tell me it's some weird sci-fi magical DoM thing, like she's been sucked into another dimension, or turned herself into a cat again, or got possessed…."

Deciding to ponder the 'cat again' statement at a later point, Kingsley swallowed uncertainly. Harry wasn't too far off the mark, all things considered, with his first theory. "Not another dimension," he said slowly. "Another time. She's in 1957."

Harry put his hands over his face and looked at Kingsley through his fingers. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

OH HEY AN UPDATE. Hope you're all well, and that you enjoyed this chapter. Leave me a review and tell me what you think.

L x