Title: Anachronistic

Authors: Muse Calliope

Category: Angst/Drama

Rated: PG-13

Summary: Due to tragic circumstances, Hermione decides to go back to the past. She knows it's dangerous but now she's extremely desperate. She knows there are some serious repercussions but they can't be as bad as things are now…

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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"'Begin at the beginning,' the King said, gravely, 'and go on till you come to the end; then stop.' "

- Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll

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Chapter One: Prelusion

            Blood and chaos everywhere, people bleeding, people dying… Hermione Granger shot up from her bed, breathing heavily, and thinking about the events that happened just yesterday. The image of a dead Harry Potter appeared in her mind. Her best friend was lying on the ground, lifeless, next to one of the greatest evil wizard of all time. Suddenly, she saw her other best friend, Ron Weasley, unconscious in his bed at St. Mungo's. She remembered the details of how he got there quite clearly.

          It was at the final battle between the forces of Light and Darkness in the wizarding world. After months of a brutal stalemate, it all came down to giving Harry enough space and time to take down Voldemort. Once he was gone, the Order was sure that all of his minions would give up quickly. Yet in all of their strategizing, the Order had forgotten to consider what a powerful force one of Voldemort's most faithful followers could be.

          Bellatrix Lestrange was certifiably insane. Hermione knew for sure because that was what the reluctant healers assigned to treat Bellatrix had said. No one thought that the death of her beloved master would cause her to go on a killing spree against all of Harry Potter's loved ones. And of course, the nearest, most convenient loved one was Hermione. She had cautiously snuck around all the fighting between Death Eaters and members of the Order with Ron so that they could watch Harry and give him whatever support they could.

          Weeks earlier, Hermione had discovered a charm, which allowed the user to transfer power from himself to one who the user wished to protect. Naturally, Hermione studied and perfected it until she and Ron could safely help Harry. Unfortunately, the charm required the user to be within a radius of a meter from the receiver to work fully. And for something as important as the defeat of Voldemort, the spell had to work at its maximum potential.

          So there they were, two scared sixteen year olds, crouching behind some bushes near the edge of the lake. The majority of the battle was taking place by the entrance to Hogwarts castle but the most important fight was separated from all of that, as if that was another world entirely, which Hermione reasoned, it probably was.

          The duel seemed to last forever. While Harry began to show signs of fatigue and hesitation, the Dark Lord looked almost completely comfortable. The key word being almost. Hermione could see that his moves were become less and less showy or embellished and more and more effectively aimed to cause the maximum amount of damage with minimum effort. She guessed this was as close as he got to being nervous as possible and with good reason, too.

          After the fiasco in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry, Dumbledore decided that keeping secrets from Harry was not going to lead to "favorable outcomes". Thus he began to divulge more secrets to Harry, to induct Harry into the Order of the Phoenix, and to even take Harry as his apprentice after he expressed his determination to fight Voldemort. The Boy Who Lived soon grew to be more powerful than Hermione thought he was capable of, but then again, he was always underestimated, one of his many advantages.

          Often times, she and Ron were left out of any of these activities, since Dumbledore wanted to have few students involved in the war as possible and Harry was the main reason many were involved. Though this led to the decline of the Defense Association, or "Dumbledore's Army", Hermione and Ron were never ones to abandon Harry so quickly and they soon found a way to help on their own.

          Now that the time had come to implement her brilliant plan, Hermione was not so sure anymore. What if something went wrong? What if there was an unknown side-effect that was not listed in the books? With rare, old spells like this one, you could never be too sure. But now was not the time to doubt, especially with Harry's tired limbs starting to have trouble dodging those curses.

          She elbowed Ron sharply before looking into his eyes for confirmation. Upon receiving it, Hermione stood up and recited the incantation first, so as not to overwhelm Harry with the incoming power. Ron then followed suit, before collapsing on his knees next to her, as she lay in the grass on her back. Slowly, they pulled themselves up and peeked over the top of the bush they were currently situated behind. What she saw caused her to almost gasp in surprise.

          Harry looked magnificent. There was no other way to put it. Power radiated around and through him, almost igniting in the air, as he stood tall and straight, not a single sign of fatigue left showing. His face, however, betrayed a look of confusion so great, it was almost comical. He had no idea as to where his newfound power came from, as Ron and Hermione thought it would only hinder their plans if he did, but it was comforting and familiar, like the happy days he spent at the Burrow with everyone before heading home to Hogwarts.

          As though he feared the power would leave him soon, Harry quickly raised his wand and said the two most feared words in the wizarding world. The expected green light rushed towards the Dark Lord, hitting him dead in the chest while he still remained in shock. Harry always did have excellent aim, Hermione thought rather smugly.

          Voldemort stumbled backwards, still rather shocked, with a considerable hole in his chest, but still alive. A smirk of triumph began to appear on his face before he fell over clutching his torso, which was now being incinerated starting from the hole in his chest and working outward. Hermione dragged herself out of the bushes with Ron, supporting each other, towards Harry, who was standing where he saw, but now with a look of horror and disgust on his face.

            So this is what happens when three spirit energies cast a single Killing Curse upon a single person, Hermione thought with the morbidly scientific part of her mind. The victim, though Voldemort could hardly be called that, was killed effectively, but in the most painful way possible. The three stayed and watched, partly out of macabre fascination and partly out of a deep desire to make sure Voldemort was gone for good this time.

          The Dark Lord's agonizing screams echoed throughout the battlefield, halting most duels. A few Death Eaters completely abandoned their duels to rescue their master, but they were quickly stopped, except for one that most Aurors feared too much to attack. Yet, the trio's concentration was so great that they did not notice any of it. Harry had not even thought to ask where his best friends suddenly appeared from.

          Voldemort's body was slowly disintegrating, as he desperately tried to stop any further damage to his newly remade body. But there was nothing to be done. Nobody had ever heard of this before, let alone tried to reverse it and the odds were against him. Eventually, the Dark Lord seemed to give up trying to save himself, but rather than die peaceful, he grew angry and attack. First, he threw a Cruciatus Curse, which hit Hermione and sent her to the ground, writhing in pain. Then, as his arm was rapidly being destroyed, he let some killing Curses fly, but most of them were wild and hit nothing.

          One, however, seemed to hit its target exactly. No one even heard Voldemort's last screams, as Ron and Hermione, now free from the Cruciatus Curse, ran as fast as they could to their best friend's side. Not that it would do much use, for the Boy Who Lived was dead. A strained expression now covered his face, after his face muscles forcefully relaxed from their previously scrunched up position. His eyes were completely blank, a look no one had ever seen in them. After all, Harry Potter was always full of life and emotions, whether good or bad.

          Hermione let out a choked sob as realization hit her. Before they had reached Harry's dead body, hope still remained. He had survived killing Curses before; he could do it again. Besides, with the energy of three in him, a Killing Curse could not possible do that much damage. She looked to Ron for confirmation, but all she saw was his weeping form. It was the first time she had seen Ron cry.

          Suddenly, the happy end she imagined for them vanished. She could still become a professor at Hogwarts and Ron could still become an Auror at the Ministry but what was the point? Harry could not become an Auror, or a professional Quidditch player, or a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, or anything else he had dreamed of. As long as he was not there, the happy-go-lucky trinity was a worthless duo. Not that she or Ron had no strengths of their own but they could not stay together. Harry was the soul that bound the three of them as one.

          Hermione would have continued on the same train of thought had Bellatrix Lestrange's deranged shriek not interrupted her. Bellatrix, after seeing the last remnants of her master burn up, let loose a feral cry. She turned to see the Boy Who Lived's body being cradled in Hermione's arms and came to the logical conclusion that he killed the Dark Lord. While most other Death Eaters would have given up in despair, Bellatrix's faith only grew more fervent. She picked up her fallen master's wand and began to throw curses everywhere. A few hit the officials who had run after her once it became clear she was trying to help the Voldemort.

          Eventually, Order members were able to restrain Bellatrix, but she broke free once more. Facing the still weeping Ron and Hermione, she spoke with a voice full of all the cruelty she could muster.

          "You and your pathetic muggle-loving friends did this, you filthy mudblood! My master is dead! But at least he finally got rid of that pathetic Boy Who Should Have Died Long Ago! Although that's certainly not enough to atone for his death, I am here to remedy that. Bellatrix Lestrange was and always will be the Dark Lord's most faithful servant!" With those final remarks, she whispered, "Avada Kedavra," before being wrestled to the ground by authorities.

          Hermione saw the curse coming at her but felt incapable of moving from her spot. At the last minute, some instinct of self-preservation kicked in and she raised the strongest shield she could, but she knew it was not enough. It was also at that same moment that Ron threw himself in front of her, not having much difficulty since he was already inside her shield.

          Though nothing was known to stop the Killing Curse, a strong enough shield seemed to weaken it, turning it from a noxious green to a sinister red. It continued to hurdle at them and despite the color change, it was still terrifying. As if in slow motion, Hermione saw the curse hit her other best friend. She watched him fall, crumpling to the ground and lying there like a limp, grotesque doll. She watched for a very long time, until Order members appeared by her side to take her to the infirmary.

          She, however, refused to leave Ron, following the rescue workers who took his body to the infirmary. The infirmary was meant for sick or injured people, not dead people. Did that mean Ron was alright? The thought hit her like a ton of bricks and she quickly ran to his bedside. Yes! There was a pulse, weak and erratic but there. Ron was still alive! He would get better soon and then they could return to being best friends and Hermione would not feel so lonely.

          She joyfully turned around to help Madam Pomfrey with the other patients and promptly fainted. That, Hermione mused, was probably how she got to be in an infirmary bed. She sniffled some more, vainly trying to stop the tears that were cascading down her face, before looking around the infirmary.

          A small part of her mind kept telling her that she would not find Harry and Ron sitting on the next bed, playing Exploding Snap as they waited for her, until Madam Pomfrey kicked them out in irritation. The same part also kept telling her that she was in denial and that she needed to face the truth to get on with her life. Yet, she could not help thinking, what kind of life would that be?

          She was aware on some level that the full weight of everything had yet to hit her but she was not particularly eager for that to happen. If living hurt so much while still halfway in denial, there was no telling the amount of pain to result when the thin veil she kept in front of her eyes was gone. Hermione sat in her bed for a very long time, replaying things over and over in her head.

            They both sacrificed their own lives, so that people like me could live, she thought in despair. Now one is dead and the other is in an unknown state, mostly likely comatose for the rest of his life. Fresh tears emerged, streaming down her face as she remembered.

          Looking up again, she noticed an old man with long white hair and a very long beard entering the hospital wing. Albus Dumbledore seemed to be older than Hermione ever remembered, with wrinkles and a newly acquired scar on his left cheek prominently visible, without a twinkle in his eyes to cover it up. Yet, Dumbledore always managed to radiate some comfort and warmth, and no matter how weak it was today, Hermione felt its effects.

          As he approached her bed, she looked up with some reluctance and asked the question she dreaded to ask.

          "Professor, how did I get here?" Hermione stared at the old man with teary eyes, looking very pitiful indeed. "What happened yesterday was all a dream right? Harry and Ron are both alright. Nothing happened to them, right…?"

          Dumbledore let out a sigh and moved towards the window, unable to look into Hermione's eyes anymore. The child had lost so much already – her parents in an attack earlier that year at Diagon Alley, her home in a similar Death Eater raid at her village while she was at the Weasleys', and now her best and only true friends to the final battle. 

          "I'm sorry Miss Granger but I must inform you that what happened was not a dream. Voldemort is dead, taking Mr. Potter's life with him. As for Mr. Weasley, he is still in St. Mungo's. All we can do is to wish that he will wake up, though the Healers hold out little hope of that."

          With those word, it seemed like Hermione's world came crashing down and there was nothing left for her to cling to. In desperation she feebly tried to refute Dumbledore's claim.

          "No, no, no… I won't believe it! They are not dead! They are alive and I'm going to find them!" She was rambling now and she knew it but she could not seem to stop herself. I cannot and will not believe that my best friends are dead.

          "Please Miss Granger, calm down. You are not the only one who has lost a lot of loved ones in this War."  Dumbledore spoke softly, with tears glistening in his eyes, as well.

          Hermione fell silent, only sniffing softly periodically. Dumbledore was right; she was not the only one that lost loved ones. But why did the others have to suffer to save someone like me? Why Harry – he had already lost his parents and Sirius. Why Ron, whose family opened their home to us? Why?

          "Now, Miss Granger, I suggest you get some sleep. You are going to need it tomorrow." The elderly man sighed deeply, before slowly pushing himself up and walking out of the infirmary.

          Hermione lay down on her back again, trying to go to sleep, but only darkness and daunting memories came to her.

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          Harry's funeral was sad and extremely depressing. Almost the entire wizarding population of Britain was there, with Dumbledore residing over them all. Many people came to thank Harry for saving the wizarding world, for saving their families. Everyone went up to his grave, and gave flowers, or murmuring blessings, except for one: Hermione Granger.

          Hermione remained by herself in a distant corner, tears streaming down her cheeks, like waterfalls. She was too scared to go in front of Harry's grave. Going up there and seeing his body meant accepting the fact that Harry was dead and there was nothing she or anyone else could do about it. Finally, she made a decision.

            I can't stand this anymore. All this funeral is doing is bringing back painful, old memories. She quickly departed, slipping past the crowd and hailing down the Knight Bus to St. Mungo's.

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          Ron was extremely pale. His eyes, which were closed, were covered by his flaming hair. Hermione silently brushed his red hair behind his rather big ears.

          "Ron, I know you cannot hear me, but…" She found her voice cracking. Taking a deep breath, she took one of his cold hands and pressed on.

          "I went to Harry's funeral today. So many people came, but it's not the same. I was his only close friend there; everyone else is either reporters or ministry people. I was the only person that truly knew Harry there, but I left anyway. I just couldn't stay. I miss him so much. What am I going to do without you two?" Hermione questioned as more tears rolled down her already tear stained face. After finding her voice again she continued.

          "Ron, please wake up soon! You are the only one that I truly care about in this world now! Mum and Dad are dead, and now Harry! You can't leave me too!" Hermione cried out as she buried her face on Ron's lifeless chest.

          "Miss Granger, I'm sure you won't wake up Mr. Weasley this way." A strong yet calm voice came from the doorway. There stood there was Albus Dumbledore once more, looking at her with kind but sorrowful eyes.

          Hermione turned quickly to identify the source of the familiar voice. "Professor, what are you doing here? Why aren't you at the funeral?" Hermione questioned the Headmaster in confusion.

          "I just wanted to make sure you were safe from the Death Eaters," answered Dumbledore, though Hermione felt doubtful that he was telling the truth.

          "Oh, I'm not scared of them. They can kill me if they want, but it's not going to bring back Voldemort or Harry…" Hermione choked on her own tears. "He's dead. I wish he was still alive, still standing in front of me, staring at me with his eyes. But…I can never bring him back…He's dead…"

          "Perhaps Miss Granger, hope is not all gone." He looked at her, with a slight twinkle in his eyes. "If the past is changed, the future will change accordingly, as well. But time travel is not always safe. The outcome may do more harm than good," he added, cautiously. Then, quick as a flash, the twinkle vanished, and he returned to a somber, old man who seemed to have lost his purpose in life.

          "Well, I shall be going now. You may take the Hogwarts Express from King's Cross Station back to Hogwarts later." With that, the old man disappeared.

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          On the train back to Hogwarts, Hermione pondered what Dumbledore meant by telling her about time travel. Of course changing the past meant changing the future. She had known that since the beginning of her third year. Why would Dumbledore explain it to her again now? Then it suddenly hit her - the Time Turner!

          After receiving Outstandings on almost all of her OWLS, she had to use a Time Turner again to make it to some classes. She had, however, learnt her lesson, and used it in moderation, so that she would not collapse again. But leaving now could mean missing a lot of important classes. Sighing she made up her mind. Although she still had almost a year and a half of education to complete at Hogwarts, there were some things that were just more important. 

         

                Of course, but it's quite tricky. But… if that's going to get Harry, Ron, Mum, Dad, and everyone else back, I'll do it! She smiled to herself at the idea. There were a lot of preparations to make. I shall need my trunk, wand, books and clothes. I should leave tonight. And it would be best to take Harry's Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map.

          Hermione ran back to her dorm room, packed up as quickly as she could, and pulled her trunk into an empty classroom on the second floor. Classes had been cancelled for a week, and for once Hermione did not care, so it was almost guaranteed that nobody would interrupt her.

          She stood in the middle of the empty classroom, and took out her Time Turner. It was then that she realized that in all her excitement at the idea of saving her family and friends, she had almost forgotten what time period she would be going to. After taking her time to rethink her decision, she finally made a decision.

          One hand holding the trunk and the other holding the Time Turner as she turned it a few times, hearing the movement of the sand, she concentrated on the 70's, on Harry's parents' time, the Marauders' era.

          Hermione closed her eyes, as she felt wind hitting her, making her spin, and suddenly it all stopped. A wave of dizziness overcame her, so that she could not even stand up straight. As her balance was lost, she stretched out her hand to grab on to the nearest object she could. Consequently, the time turner in that hand dropped to the floor, shattering into pieces of broken glass and sand covering the floor.

          "Oh no! No, no, no! How could I be so stupid! Hermione! You are so clumsy!" She cried out; upset enough to start talking to herself aloud. "How am I going to go back now?"

          Hermione did the first that popped up to her mind, which happened to be: get Dumbledore! She walked silently, one hand holding her wand, which she just used to levitate her trunk. She stopped when she was in front of the gargoyle guarding the staircase to the Headmaster's Office. Now the problem was figuring out the password.

          "Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans? Umm… Fizzing Whizbee? No. Sugar Quill? Chocolate Frogs?" The gargoyle moved aside, revealing the staircase that led to Dumbledore's office.

          "Well, thanks." Hermione beamed at the statue.

          Once at the top, she took a deep breath and hoped that her lie was believable. She took another one, futilely trying to calm her racing heart but gave up. She could not prepare herself in five minutes to fool a master of human nature.

          Hermione cautiously knocked on the door, and then heard a mumble that sounded like 'come in'. She pushed the door open, and stood in front of the exact same wizard she had seen this morning, except for that this time his hair was not completely white yet.

          The wizard stared at her blankly, not a flicker of recognization in his eyes, which twinkled nonetheless. "I'm sorry Miss… I do not remember ever seeing you in this school before. Who are you?" he asked politely, while staring at her calmly.

          "Er… It's Hermione Granger. I don't expect you recognize me professor. I'm not exactly from now… I think," Hermione said nervously, trying to seem like a lost little girl who obviously did not like to lie to teachers. I am not lying. I'm just not telling the whole truth.

          "Miss Granger, what do you mean by the statement you are 'not from now'?" The elderly man raised an eyebrow.

          "I… I was using my Time Turner that Professor McGonagall gave me. But I accidentally sat on it while I was… er… getting it from my trunk. Yes, getting it from my trunk, and the next thing I knew, I was in an empty classroom, with the broken glass and sand all around me." Hermione said unsurely, avoiding his eyes. "Ummm... Professor, what's the date?" she asked, wanting to make sure.

          "It's October 12, 1975. I see. So, Miss Granger, you are stuck here, it seems," he answered, noticing a sigh of relief. Maybe the child thought that she was in trouble. Then his eyes moved to her uniform, in particular her badge. "I can see that you are in Gryffindor. What year are you in?"

          "I'm a 6th year, professor."

          "The Time Turner was for NEWT preparation classes, then? Well, Miss Granger, I shall inform Minerva to bring you to the Gryffindor Tower. You shall study here as a student until we find a way to send you back. Out of curiosity, when are you from – no, forget it. I do not want to know. It might mess up the timelines. But at least tell me whether you are from the past or the future."

          "The future…" she replied, hesitantly.

          "As I thought. I do not need to stress the importance of not doing anything that may change the future, as I am sure any student with a Time Turner from Professor McGonagall would know. Very well, then. You may wait next to the gargoyles. She will come soon." He concluded, and then with a smile, he added in a soft voice, "I know this may be a difficult and lonely time for you. If you ever want to talk about anything, you know where to find me, Miss Granger."

          Hermione gulped inaudibly and nodded at the same time. She left Dumbledore's office, feeling relieved, but wondering if he knew or suspected anything.

End Chapter One. To be continued.

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Authors' Notes:

Later on in the story there are a few original characters to basically provide comic relief and fill up space in the dorms due to lack of information about the Marauders' time. The two main ones are Charlotte and Amelia but they are not Mary Sues or a form of self-insertion. Yes, they do have the same names as the authors but we took our names (and theirs) from another source.