Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any sort of profit from this hobby.

Prologue

Agonized cries from every direction filled her world, but she still heard the impressive voice of her most trusted mentor, roaring over the field. She whipped around frantically, sweat dripping from her brow, fatigue searing through every inch of her body. Even though the man stood several yards away, she heard every word he shouted at her.

There was a flash of silvery grey light. And then there was pain.

Not the kind of dull ever present pain they had gotten used to for the last years, the kind that didn't ever diminish through the horrible ordeal that had become their reality.

No, this was the other kind.

As she saw the last of her beloved allies fall, she found herself thrown to the blood spattered ground. The nerves in her body exploded with agony, while she felt like she was being ripped to shreds with the burning that tore at her from within.

Then there were silence.

But the pain remained, leaving her whimpering on the grass before embracing the blackness.

Chapter 1

The girl woke to a warm reddish light seeping through her closed eyelids. The feeling of sleepyness was still very present in all parts of her body, as she tried to open her eyes. Blury shapes filled her view, and she attempted to clear her throat. Someone walked up to her bedside, startling her.

"Awake at last, how do you feel, dear?"

Not knowing where she was, she frantically started to search for her wand, backing up against the bed's head board. The woman standing next to her gave her a stern look, pushed her back down into the bed and raised her own wand.

"Oh, no you don't! You just lie down now, girl, so I can check your healing progress."

When she realised that her exhausted body wouldn't comply for any wandless fighting at the moment, the girl in the bed sunk backwards and focused her weary eyes on the woman standing next to her. She appeared to be a healer, and while looking around the room at large, she recognised the crisp environment and several rows of beds to be those of a hospital ward. As the woman poured some unknown potion down her throat, she found herself falling back into darkness again.

The next time she woke up, someone was sitting in a chair next to her bed. The girl blinked but didn't utter a sound as she took in the figure beside her. The man smiled friendly at her, but remained silent. A long silence followed, where the girl stared at the man with half moon spectacles and long silvery beard, wrecking her confused brain for answers to the improbable situation she found herself in. After a while she opened her mouth to speak, but croaked on her dry throat.

"Can I have some water, please," she wispered hoarsly.

The bearded man in impressive purple robes beamed at her, then reached for a glass on the bedside table and gave it to her. Then he sat down again, a look of satisfaction on his face. The girl sipped slowly, waiting for him to question her.

"You were very luckly to be found when you were, my dear. I'm told your internal injurys almoust caused your death. Had the healing begun just a short while later, nothing would have sufficed for your rescue."

He paused, his bright blue eyes searching deep into hers, but she still remained silent.

"What is your name, dear? Is there perhaps someone you want us to contact? Your parents?"

In her tired state, she flinched at the questions and sighed, but still didn't say anything. The man looked troubled as she turned away from him, her eyes wandering the room. She seemed to be thinking hard about something, and he let her keep at it at her own pace.

"I'm at Hogwarts, I take it?" she asked at last, breaking the silence.

The man nodded, a slight frown on his face at her question.

"Yes, the hospital wing. You were found outside on the castle ground almost a week ago. Do you mind telling me what happened to you, how you came to be here in the middle of the summer? And in that pitiful state?"

His voice suddenly had a sharp edge to it, and as she after a while turned around, facing him again, she felt his eyes probing hers. She looked down at her hands, smiled weakly and took a deep breath.

"I think I might have worked it out, sir. My name is Hermione Granger, and I have something really important to tell you."

Dumbledore took in the frail form of the young girl in the bed in front of him. He had been as disturbed by her arrival at the castle grounds as the gamekeeper who had found her broken and nearly dying from her injuries. The times were beginning to look disturbing, and even though he hardly thought her to be a Death Eater, one did wisely not to be too trustworthy these days.

The girl had located her wand on the bedside table, and seemed immensly more at ease with it by her side. Dumbledore tried once more to penetrate her mind while he held her gaze, and was indeed a little impressed that not only did she seem to know what he was doing, she also seemed adept to stop him from succeeding. How was it that a girl that couldn't even be of age, was that accomplished at Occlumency? He tilted his head at her and nodded for her to start her story.

She sighed once more and ran her fingers through her matted, wavy brown hair.

"I-I don't actually know where to begin. I just need you to hear me out, because this is of gravest importance."

She closed her eyes. When she opened them again they were filled to the brim with tears, threatening to fall down. Twirling her wand nervously in her hands she seemed to brace herself for the beginning of her explanations. What she said next, though, took the Headmaster of Hogwarts with surprise.

"I need to know what year it is, please Professor, if you could tell me?"

Dumbledore looked up at her. He seemed to be thinking hard for a minute and then nodded, as much to himself as to her.

"It's 1976, July 15th."

He scanned her face as she took this in. She didn't seem surprised at the fact, instead she had a distant look on her face, as if merely going over something in her mind.

"What year would you say it is?" he asked, his eyes slightly narrowed.

She smiled sadly, and by now her tears was falling silently down her face.

"The-the year I seem to have left behind was 1996."

At these words she looked over at Dumbledore again, one hand raised to wipe away the moist in her eyes, the other one holding her wand loosely by her side as she half-sat in the hospital bed. Dumbledore sat quietly by her side, and she continued.

"Before you say anything, sir, I know what you must be thinking. 'One should never meddle with time.' I had all the Ministry Rules memorised while using a timeturner in my third year at school. It was given to me by you yourself, sir, and Professor McGonagall, so that I would be able to take all my classes. But this is different. Entirely different. Will you hear me out, please, sir?"

Her pleading eyes found Dumbledore's, and he sat quiet for a long time, thinking over the things he'd heard so far from her. He had of course went to see her while she was lying unconsious. It wasn't everyday a severely injured girl fell onto the grounds of Hogwarts. He had also been wondering about some of the more distinctive scars that Madam Pomfrey, the school's matron, had found on her body. He let out a deep breath he hadn't know he was holdning as he signed for her to continue.

"Please elaborate. Why is it that I need to know of the future, even though you seem to be aware of the – may I say – extremely strict rules concerning any meddling with time?"

Her shining eyes had dried of tears now, and the fierce look in them spoke of a much older person than the petite girl in front of him.

"Because, sir, it was you who sent me here." Her words kept him mesmerized.

"We were the last ones standing on the battlefield, the last ones remaining of the Order of the Phoenix, and I saw how you choose to send a spell at me, insted of saving youself from the killing curse. Your last words shouted at me before you fell was 'You need to change it!'"

An ice cold feeling rippled over Dumbledore's spine as he took in her words. The girl indeed knew of the Order he was only planning to form at this stage, but to think that they would be needed still, twenty years in the future, and that a child would be forced to join them in fighting – this had his head reeling. Still, there were no excuses to disturbe fate, to change history. What had he been – would he be – thinking? Was it even true?

Suddenly, Hermione spoke again: "Sir, I-… The Dumbledore I knew was an extremely accomplished Legilimens. I know you've tried to access my mind, would you like me to show you what happened before I was hit with your spell? I didn't recognize it as any I've ever seen before, maybe you'll know what it was? Maybe it could help with this… situation?"

Her voice cracked. Dumbledore saw something similar to fear and regret in her strained eyes. He knew not to take this invitation lightly, to have someone rummaging around in your thoughts was indeed uncomfortable. He smiled solemly at her again, and scooted nearer the bed.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, how is it that a young girl as yourself is able to master the art of Occlumency?"

There was almost a twinkle in his eyes, but the look in them darkened as he saw the girl stiffen before him. He sighed.

"Oh well, all in good time I believe. If you willingly would let me into your thoughts, I'll try to be as gentle as possible. Just allow me access to the event in question, everything else will have to wait until you have rested some more, you are still very weak."

Hermione nodded. Dumbledore caught Hermione's eyes with his, and this time he felt no barrier preventing him from entering her mind. When he at last pulled back, the usually calm face of the Headmaster of Hogwarts was paling noticably.

This time, Hermione was unable to hold back the tears, and she fell back down on the bed, whimpering sobs escaping her. By showing the professor her memories, she had also been forced to relive the most traumatizing episode of her life. She'd seen everyone she loved – the ones who were left – die that day, had heard their agonized cries of pain and been splattered with their blood before she was standing alone among the dead, with only Dumbledore at her side against too many foes.

Dumbledore shook his head as if trying to will the pictures away himself. He then conjured up a vial of potion and tipped it into the girl's mouth.

"Sleeping potion, Miss Granger. We will talk later, but for now you must rest."

Hermione opened her eyes to the darkened hospital ward of Hogwarts. It was late, probably many hours before anyone would rise for breakfast and another day of work. Dumbledore had said it was in the middle of summer, no students would be bustling around the place for weeks.

She experimentarily moved her limbs around while still lying in bed, trying to see if any lingering damage remained. To her relief, the only thing she could complain about was the feeling like her head had been stuffed with cotton until bursting point.

They are all dead.

She winced with pain as the memory of what had happened on the battlefield hit her once more. And still… The fact that Dumbledore had sent her back in time to change the horrible outcome, to change what had become of the world, whirled around in her mind.

What was she to do? What was Dumbledore – the one still alive – going to do with her? Would he help her with her quest, or was she looking forward to spending life inprisoned in a ward at St. Mungo's, or even Azkaban?

Question upon question kept spinning around in her head. Then Hermione squared her chin and lifted her head, gazing out of the windows onto the dark grounds of Hogwarts.

She would do whatever it took to make sure her friends and loved ones would be born into a world of peace. The quest Dumbledore had set upon her without ever discussing it with her felt overwhelming, but who was she to back down from a task so intertwined with fate as this one? She was a Gryffindor down to her very bones, and such a noble assignment as this needed to be planned thoroughly. Whatever the 1976's version of Dumbledore had to say about it, she would see to it that the future didn't end up as the hell she had been banished from.

"Lumos," she whispered, as she conjured up parchment and quill. In the light of her wand she started to scribble down everything she could remember of Voldemort's all too successfull rise to power.

Some time later the faint morning sun was just entering through the high windows of the hospital ward. Hermione looked upp from her cramping fingers and the pile of papers she had been able to produce in the hours of the night and early morning. She'd heard someone moving around in the matron's private quarters for some time now, and wasn't too surprised when a younger version of Poppy Pomfrey came in to the ward, fussing over her awakened state.

"Tut tut, dear. You should be resting for a while longer."

She waved her wand over Hermione's body, seemingly checking for degeneration in her recovery. She gave a satisfactory nod when everything seemed alright, and continued to produce vials of different potions. Hermione swollowed them all without complaining.

It was indeed the same strict matron Hermione remembered from her time at school, just younger. She also knew that the Madam Pomfrey she'd known for years was dead. She had been tending to the many wounded residing in Hogwarts' hospital wing, while the castle found itself under attack. The whole wing, towers and all fell crumpled down with a shake that could be felt for miles. Needless to say, no one inside that part of the castle at the time, survived.

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat. Of course she would meet people she'd remember. She just hoped it would be easier with time, to see those whose fate she'd so recently vowed to make better. Although, she suspected that she would always keep feeling the loss for what could have become of the reality she so abruptly had been forced to leave behind. It pained her to think that even if she would be victorious in her task to rid the world of Voldemort's evil, to prevent his horrible reign of terror, she never would be able to once more know those she so loved.

They weren't even born yet.

Harry. Ron. Neville. Ginny.

Hermione wiped at the wetness of her eyes. No use to be sentimental. There was no way to bring them back to life, none of them. The only way she could help would be to see to it that those who were to be born got to live long lives in peace.

Maybe she could even be there for them, by their side, somehow.

But never as the best friend.

Never as the lover.

Dumbledore found Hermione arguing loudly with Madam Pomfrey when he swept into the hospital ward before breakfast. He smiled at the apparent renewed strength the young witch showed, and with twinkling eyes he turned to the matron.

"I do believe Miss Granger seems to feel better today, don't you Poppy?"

Poppy Pomfrey huffed irritable at the headmaster's obvious alignment with the girl.

"She should stay in bed for at least a couple of more days-"

Hermione whined: "But no! I feel perfectly fine! I'm going crazy in this bed, please, sir," Hermione pleaded with the man in dark blue robes. She could have sworn he winked at her.

"Poppy…"

Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes, and Dumbledore continued: "It will do Miss Granger good to get some air, I promise to stay by her side all the time and return her to your care the moment I see the slightest evidens of her being tired. She will be perfectly fine."

Dumbledore smiled at the two witches in the room.

After Hermione had changed into a pair of casual pants and a sweater that Madam Pomfrey procured up for her, she followed Dumbledore into the matron's fireplace, to floo to the headmaster's private chambers.

She'd been in his office many times, of course, but to step out of the fireplace into the beautiful cirkular room that apparently was the headmaster's private sitting room, took her breath away. Hermione gaped, and Dumbledore chuckled as he steered her to the group of armchairs by the windows. A whole quarter of the room's walls was set with lead framed windows that streched from the floor and all the way up to the high domed ceiling. The rest of the walls had built-in bookshelves filled to the brim with heavy tomes. The pale morning sun filled the room with an airy feeling of calm, and Hermione found herself drawn to the view over the grounds. She had never spent the summer at Hogwarts before, and the nature was breathtaking.

Assorted breakfast items was set on the table in front of the armchairs and Dumbledore signed for her to help herself to anything. She hesitantly warmed her hands around a cup of tea and started to nibble on some toast. Food had been scarce since they went into full blown war, and to see this monument of the better times she remembered from her youth, almost made her throat swell up again.

Dumbledore finally put his teacup down and turned over to her.

"Miss Granger, I-"

"Hermione, sir, please call me Hermione." She took another sip of her tea and continued to look out over the sunlit grounds.

He smiled. "Very well, Hermione. I've been trying to find out about the spell that-" At this he seemed to have trouble choosing his words. Finally he settled. "That the older myself used to send you here. But unfortunately nothing I can think of have given any results. I have never heard of anyone travelling in time without the use of a time turner, and – as you know – those are only able to take one back for shorter bursts. I therefore suspect the spell in question to be of my own design. I did recognize the wand movement to have som qualities of my own style, but there is no way to be sure, of course."

Hermione turned in her chair and looked at the man she considered to be her mentor in the desperate ordeals they'd been through in her own time. She trusted him with her life, but didn't know how to proceed. How would she be able to convince him about the path she had choosen to follow?

Dumbledore cleared his throat and watched her through his half moon spectacles. "I've been in kind of a pickle since you showed me your mind last night, Hermione."

She considered this in apparent confusion. "What do you-"

"You see, as you so rightly told me, there are strict rules considering time travel. But when I saw myself in your mind – I, who definately know of all these rules – making that kind of decision, I can't stop wondering that maybe some things are worth breaking the rules for."

Hermione's eyes shone with anticipation at his next words.

"I would like you to tell me everything."

Hermione went into an explanation of everything that had happen since the death of Harry Potter's parents, the night they were betrayed by one of their best friends. Dumbledore sat silent through her story, never interrupting as she told him about the adventures they went through during her first year, her second, third and fourth. He smiled at places and frowned at some things, but let her speak at her own pace. She told him about the prophecy that had had such an impact on all their lives, how they had started an illegal defense group, and she thought she could see his eyes twinkle at the mention of the name they had given themselves – Dumbledore's Army. But when she got to the part where they had battled Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic, the headmaster had an incredulous look on his face.

"You took on full grown Death Eaters, by yourselves? Fourth and fifth year students?"

Hermione nodded and kept going: "Yes. For a while, it indeed seemed hopeless. We panicked. Some of us were severely injured."

She unconciously touched her shoulder, where Dumbeldore knew there would be a noticable scar.

"We didn't know at the time, but Professor Snape had notified the Order of the Phoenix about what was going on. When they showed up, the battle began for real." She swallowed. "Harry's godfather died that night, killed by his cousin, Bellatrix. This was the first big blow to the Order. Harry was devastated."

"That would be mister Black, I presume?"

Hermione had tears in her eyes as she watched the clouds that lazilly moved across the clear blue sky. "Sirius had become the only parent-like person Harry would ever know. I think he lost the last remaining pieces of innocence that day. We all sort of did," she said hoarsly.

"The apperance of Voldemort himself scared the whole wizarding world into frantics, but at least they all knew the truth by then. I think Harry was relieved, in the middle of all the grief. We could start the fight, at last."

"That was when it all began. We; Harry, Ron and I, and the rest of the Weasleys of course, spent the summer after fifth year stationed at the Order's headquarters. Our battle training began for real, and Harry became obsessed with his duelling skills. He would keep us at it for hours each day. The leadership he had started to show in the DA-meetings now blossomed, and I think he somehow had accepted that he probably wouldn't come out of this alive. But he never spoke of it." Hermione stared out of the windows, her voice shaking a little.

"We had Mad-Eye and Kingsley and some other aurors teaching us advanced duelling and defence every time they could get away from the office. But the Ministry showed more and more signs of becoming corrupt, and our sources told us Order members were being followed, so at the end of the summer they hardly stopped by any more."

"Our sixth year was upon us, and nothing had happened since the battle at the Ministry. Our injuries were almost healed, and being cooped up at headquarter's made us all pretty restless. Little did we know we'd see more action than we had asked for. The Death Eaters they had arrested was supposed to be tucked away in Azkaban, but during our trip to Diagonal Alley we suddenly found ourselves under attack. It was horrible-"

Hermione closed her eyes.

"That was the first time I saw innocent bystanders die. There were children and families running for their lives, screaming in fear and pain. Blood-"

She cleared her throat.

"I found myself stuck in an ally with Antonin Dolohov, the same Death Eater that was supposedly in prison still, the man that almost killed me in the Department of Mysteries." She looked down at the cup in her hands. "The wound I got that night hadn't fully healed yet, and when I met him again, in the ally beside Flourish & Blotts, it was all I could do not to panic."

Dumbledore looked concerned. Hermione had paled all through her story.

"Maybe we should stop there-" he started, but she cut him off: "No!"

She looked up at him. "I need to tell you these things, please let me continue, sir."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well."

Hermione slipped the hem of her sweater over her left shoulder to show him the beginning of a thick scar. Dumbledore knew it would continue down her chest, almost to her right hip. Madam Pomfrey had been most disturbed by the marks she had on her body, and had wondered why the girl hadn't had them properly healed. Dumbledore knew, of course, that scars left by Dark Magic would be almost impossible to heal by ordinary means.

"I managed to keep Dolohov away from me for quite some time, something that never would have been possible without the training we'd gone through during the summer. I was dead tired by the time Remus somehow arrived by my side, and together we got in enough hits to make the Death Eater disapparate and leave the site."

"When we found the others it seemed to be over. Aurors had arrived to chaos and bloodshed. Wounded and dead lay everywhere, and it was horrifying to see the broken bodies of our fellow schoolmates on the ground." Hermiones eyes glistened. "Susan Bones and Lavender Brown were among the ones I recognized immidiately. More names were being announced afterwards, but those are especially etched in my mind."

Tears fell from Hermione's eyes now.

"Later we were told by a furious Kingsley that the aurors had been held back at the Ministry. This confirmed every suspicion the Order had about the higher offices of the Ministry being controlled by Voldemort. Our own spies told us that the Death Eaters' orders in Diagon Alley had been to capture Harry, alive. Apparently they were prepared to move more in the open than ever before."

"School started, with hightened security all around Hogwarts. You, Professor, had Order members patrolling the castle, inside and out, at all hours. At this time, more and more laws were passed by the Ministry. They were minor ones in the beginning, making it illegal for witches and wizards to marry muggle borns for instance. Muggle borns were being forced to registrate, and were banned from work at the Ministry. Over all, attacks on muggles went sky high. Many informal things were being kept from the public, but as members of the Order, we started to hear even more horrible rumors."

She looked straight at the Headmaster now. "I don't know, sir, how much you know about what the Nazis did during the second world war, against minorities of different kinds?"

Dumbledore's eyes went wide with understanding, and he sat up straight, horror painted on his face. Hermione had never seen him lose his face before, and had to tell herself that this man was twenty years younger than the one she'd known.

"Yes, professor. We started to hear whisperings about camps throughout Britain, where muggles and muggle borns were being kept for Merlin knows what reasons. Mind you, nothing was clear at this point, they were still just rumors."

"So came Christmas."

At this, Hermione stopped talking, and sat instead staring out of the window. After a long time she almost whispered her words.

"I was arriving at Hogsmeade station after the holidays. It was only me. I had been planning to get some extra studying done before everyone else got back and crowded the place. Harry and Ron would come after, some days later, along with most of the other students."

"When I got into Hogsmeade, just before entering the path up to the castle, someone grabbed me from behind and apparated away before I could do anything. I was very disoriented when we landed, and my captor managed to shackle me to a wall before I ever had any chance to reach for my wand."

Her hand shook, holding her teacup.

"Lucius Malfoy," she spat, bitterly.

Dumbledore shifted.

"He had been given the honour of a mission, to 'dampen the spirit' of our little Trio, as he told me. Apparently they thought it would do more damage not to kill me. So I was beaten for hours. No magic though – Merlin no, I was to be learned to show respect the muggle way. It was my punishment for being a 'mudblood'. When I passed out from the pain, I was left alone alone for a while, and when I regained conciousness he raped me, several times."

This recollection was given with no feelings shown. It was as if she was telling him of the weather report for the upcoming weekend. Dumbledore watched the young witch intently. He wondered if she'd ever told her story before, and had every intention to wisk forward some calming draughts if she'd seem overwhelmed. But at the same time, he thought it good for her to talk about the horrible ordeals.

The girl looked up from her now cold cup of tea.

"Lucius Malfoy has a habit of carrying a cane with a silver head, in which his wand is being kept. After the… incident… was over with, he performed a heating spell on the silver knob, and then…"

She gave him a look, knowing that he probably already had seen all the distinctive anomalies on her body. Dumbledore indeed knew what would be on her left thigh – a red scarry circle of skin, about two inches in diameter, with the ornate letters LM burned into the otherwise white flesh. Madam Pomfrey had been most horrified by the mark and he too had wondered about it.

She sighed. "He branded me. As a reminder of who would always have the power over me and therefore over Harry and Ron too."

"I don't remember much more of the whole thing. Apparently, I had been found in the snow outside Hogsmeade a couple of days later, left as a message to Harry. The next time I woke up, I had Madam Pomfrey fussing over me at Hogwarts." Hermione gave a cold laugh. "It's seems to be a speciality of mine, doesn't it, waking up in the hospital wing after dealing with Death Eaters?"

Her small smile had a bitter touch to it.

"I never told the boys all of what had happened to me. I was not going to let that vicious brute think he could gain leverage over my loved ones in such a barbaric way," Hemione huffed.

Dumbledore smiled. The sunlight was well in the room by now, and the way the girl's eyes had sparkled with her last statement made him truly admire her.

"And so, by denying him the attempted consequences, you beat him at his own game. Remarkable!" At the look she gave him, he smiled again. "I do not try to diminish your sufferings, Hermione. I just believe your way of dealing with it is commendable!"

With a flourish of his wand, the headmaster refilled the contents of their cups. Hermione smiled thankfully and took a sip of the warm tea.

"Thank you, sir. For letting me tell my story, without interruptions. I'm quite confused with the situation as it is."

"You can be most assured, dear girl, no one will be bursting in to Hogwarts at the moment. Take your time. Do you wish to continue, or are you tired? Should I escort you back to the infirmary?"

"No, no, I'm fine, sir. Just a little… overwhelmed. And it gets worse."

At this statement, Dumbledore sat up a little in his armchair and put his fingertips together under his chin, looking at her over his glasses.

Hermione started talking again: "In the beginning of March, the last defences of the Ministry finally crumbled, and the power fell right into the hands of Voldemort himself. By now he had managed to administrate enough of his people to places that would make the transition pretty much smoothless. There were so many battles and duells…"

She swollowed.

"With the power of the Ministry backing them up, the Death Eaters managed to get together their biggest attack ever, this time directed at Hogwarts." Dumbledore stiffened, and Hermione looked a little flushed.

"Hundreds of students were killed that day, along with many teachers. The Death Eaters brought giants to the battle, one of which managed to crash the whole north side of the castle. The hospital wing were packed full of injured people, who never had a chance to get out. Madam Pomfrey was one of the dead."

Hermione stifled a sob that was threathening to escape her. "It felt so unreal to see her again yesterday, and this morning. Sometimes I wonder if I'm dreaming, sitting here in an undamaged Hogwarts with the sun shining, watching birds flying over the tree-tops. Why me?"

There were more sobbing, and then a loud clearing of her throat. She continued: "Harry, Ron and I, along with many others, went underground after this. We barely managed to get out of the battle of Hogwarts alive, and day to day living became difficult. But others had it even worse. The whisperings of camps for muggle borns and muggles started to get confirmed, and at one time I saw it with my own eyes."

Her eyes were huge and seem to take over whole of her face.

"It was hell."

At these words followed the longest streak of silence yet from the tear strained girl. Now and then she sobbed. At last, after taking a deep breath, she continued in a hoarse voice.

"They were using muggles for sports, and torture. The Death Eaters treated them worse than animals, locked them up in crowded cages, starved them, let them fight one another for the chance to live one more miserable day. We heard of one place in particular where it was rumoured that the muggles were being fed other humans. Forced to cannibalism. I don't know if it's true, though."

"All the while this went on, the resistance – the people in of the Order – got picked, one by one. Everyone around us kept dying. The only thing that made Harry, Ron and me keep going was the fact that we had one last sliver of hope left."

Dumbledore's gaze hardened. "The prophecy?"

"It is part of it, yes. Although, I do have skipped some… quite important detailes of the story. The reason Voldemort could come back from the backfiring killing curse in the first place, was because he'd made several horcruxes before the occurrence at the Potters'."

Hermione watched the headmaster as she told him this, and could almost see the cogs and weels spinning beneath his white hair.

"You, sir, and Harry had set out to destroy the objects Voldemort had used in his attempts to live forever. In time, this quest included me and Ron too. Long story short – we suceeded. All seven of them were destroyed, and Harry could at last try taking him on in battle."

Dumbledore's head shut up. "Seven? He made seven horcruxes?" His eyes were wide.

Hermione nodded.

"None of us believed that Voldemort would stop at conquering Britain, and with his powers and numbers growing each day… It would be the end of muggles at first, and the world after that. By now thousands of muggles disappered each week, the country was in uproar and blame was thrown panicky wherever the muggle Prime Minister and his cabinet saw fit. There were talk of using nuclear weapons, but at what targets I do not know, as they had no idea what was causing the terror. The UN's Security Counsel vowed that any attack from Britain would be reciprocated in turn."

Dumbledore followed her story with a grim look on his face.

"What happened next, was that all the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix, and any allies we could muster up, were called together. It wasn't many left, but we had to try, for the sake of the world. We managed to lure Voldemort himself out, using Harry as bait."

Hermione swallowed.

"The last battle stod by the abandoned ruins of Hogwarts."

She cried in earnest now, hiding her face in her hands. "Roh-on fell first." She hiccuped. "He was cornered by three Death Eaters at once. He didn't stand a chance. None of us did. The prophecy concerning Harry and Lord Voldemort said that one of them had to die at the hands of the other, that no one would live, while the other survived."

"Harry was killed. Voldemort lived. That was it. You saw what happened. It was only the two of us left, and you sacrificed yourself to send me away. To change it, to save the world."

Determination and fierceness shone out of every part of Hermione Granger as she described how her world had come to an end. She seemed to draw magic from the air, her wavy hair going static in places.

"I will change it."

She gritted her teeth and almost glared at Albus Dumbledore through wet eyes, as they stared at each other in the headmaster's sunlit rooms.

His answer were unexpected and short: "I agree."