A/N: Do I seriously still need to add a disclaimer? I mean, this is, FANFICTION . net after all, . Y'know. :P So it's quite obvious that I don't own Harry Potter. I only own the story.

I. She's the traveler.

January 25, 1996; Monday

Hermione squinted at the lean, brown-haired young man in front of her. In return he mimicked her expression. She sighed in annoyance and saw the fifteen year old's expression of exasperation. She crossed her arms and huffed. She needed time to get used to it. Rubbing her eyes and scowling at the boy, who scowled right back at her, she thought back to what happened earlier that day.

It was a Monday. And in Hermione's opinion, it was the best day of the week. Most students absolutely abhorred Monday. It was, after all, so far away from Friday, the last day of the week before weekends.

But Hermione Granger was not most girls.

She had this thirst for knowledge that not many possess. She loved reading books, carefully memorizing every word. When she attended muggle school, she was shunned by her fellow students. Hurt at being rejected, but stayed strong, she turned her attention to books; her only friends. She became engrossed with reading, not bothering to make friends. She knew they would just be talking about her behind her back. It had happened more than once, and smart Hermione did not ever want a repeat of that. So she made it easier for all of them. She hid behind her pile of books, and the rest of the school pretended that she didn't exist.

This continued until she turned eleven. That was when Hermione got the letter that changed her life. She was a witch! Magic was real. There was so much to learn! And she could start with a clean slate. Nobody would hate her in Hogwarts, because nobody knew her. There was a spark of hope inside her. She could finally make new friends! Nobody would be prejudiced against her. After all, they were all witches and wizards there.

But she eventually learned what a mudblood was. And she learned that since she was muggleborn, almost every pureblood apparently thought that she wasn't good enough to lick the dirt off their shoes. Rejected again, she turned to her books. She was eager to please her teachers, and she took comfort in the fact that they were still impressed with her. This did not help her popularity among the other students, who now disliked her for being a know-it-all.

In time though, she finally did what she thought she never could: she made friends. How could three first years defeat a troll and not become friends? Hermione was elated. She achieved something that she did not believe she ever could. She had friends. Since she had Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, she was slightly less obsessive with her school work. But that thirst to know more never left her. And so, it was the reason why she still loved Mondays.

The day started out as a normal one: She woke up at six am, twisted and stretched in bed up to six fifteen, took a bath, dressed, brushed her teeth and her hair until seven. She grabbed her books for the day and left the room just as her other roommates, started waking up. She sat down in one of the common room sofas to wait for her two best friends. She opened her Transfiguration book and started reading the seventeenth chapter.

At exactly 7:17, the two boys in question stumbled down the stairs and walked over to where Hermione was seated.

"Morning 'Mione." The two chorused.

"Good morning, Harry, Ron." She nodded at the two as she stood up from her seat.

The three students made their way from the Gryffindor tower to the Great Hall. As they arrived, people either stared or glared at Harry. He merely shook his head in annoyance, and the three sat down next to a forgetful boy in their year, Neville Longbottom.

"Morning, Harry, Ron, Hermione." He said as they took their seats.

The three returned his greeting and turned their attention to the food in front of them. Hermione piled her plate with some toast, eggs and bacon and ate at a relatively slow pace. Harry did the same. Ron on the other hand, grabbed anything that was served and stuffed it into his mouth. Hermione gave him a look of disgust, but otherwise, said nothing about his table manners.

"So, what do we have today?" Harry asked Ron.

"Jsh'ta mrnt." Ron mumbled, his mouth full.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't speak with your mouth full, Ron."

Ron scowled at her and swallowed. He took his timetable from his bag and looked at his subjects. He groaned.

"Ugh, Monday must be the worst day ever! Are they trying to kill us of boredom or what?"

"Why? What do we have?"

"Double Potions, History of Magic, Divination and Double Defense Against the Dark Arts!" he exclaimed.

Harry groaned and dragged his hand down his face. "Binns, Snape, Trelawney and Umbridge. Great." He said sarcastically.

Hermione smirked at them. "I told you to drop Divination and take a better course than that sad excuse for a subject."

"I know." Harry agreed. "Should have listened to you. But well, maybe when she calls on me later, I could just say that I'd drown in the lake because, er, Uranus and Mars have aligned today or something."

Ron grinned at his statement. "You could get top marks for predicting your death!" He laughed before sobering up. "Ahhh," he peered at Harry's plate and gasped. "It is awful! Those eggs!"

Harry and Hermione looked at him in confusion.

"What about them?" Harry asked him.

"It's awful! Oh my Lord! My boy! The eggs! Their shape! It is…" he whispered. "The Grim!"

Harry and Hermione burst out laughing at Ron's imitation of Trelawney.

"Those who do not have the Inner Eye dare to laugh at my prediction!" he huffed, eliciting even louder laughter from the two.

They continued creating ridiculous ways of dying all the way to the dungeons. Their laughter was cut abruptly when Snape entered the dungeons. His robe was billowing as he went to his desk. He eyed them all before turning to his favorite hobby: Harry-Hating.

"Mr. Potter. I see you think you are above the school dress code." He said silkily. "Ten points from Gryffindor."

Hermione glanced at Harry's school robes, there was nothing wrong with it, but she bit her lip from saying anything against Snape.

Ron, however, was a different story.

"What's wrong with his robes?" he demanded.

Hermione resisted the urge to smack her hand to her forehead. No tact at all.

Snape raised an eyebrow at Ron, before humoring him.

"Mr. Weasley has decided to defend The Golden Boy. Ah, yes. A show of such bravery could only come from Gryffindor." He said mockingly. "Another ten points from Gryffindor for talking back to a teacher, Mr. Weasley. And for your information, Mr. Potter's uniform is lacking a button."

"It's just a button!" he retorted hotly.

"Detention Weasley." He turned to look at Harry. "You too, Potter."

Here, Hermione gaped at him. "For what, sir?" the words were out of her mouth before she even had a chance to think about it.

"Five points from Gryffindor for your insolence, Ms. Granger." He said as he turned to the blackboard and scribbled the instructions. Hermione bit her lip in annoyance and glanced at the board for the instructions.

They were brewing a simple blood-replenishing potion. She opened her book to the page and gathered the ingredients she needed for her potion.

She was about halfway through her potion when Snape barked at Neville.

Poor Neville. Hermione thought.

"Longbottom!" Neville visibly cowered before Snape. "What, in Merlin's name, is this?" he jabbed a finger towards his cauldron.

"A-a-a B-b-blood r-rep-p-plenishing p-p-potion, s-s-s-sir." He stuttered.

"That is not a blood replenishing potion, Mr. Longbottom. You are a waste of both my time and my resources." And with that, Snape stalked away from them and turned to commend Malfoy's 'exemplary' performance.

Neville sent Hermione a pleading glance and Hermione started to coach Neville from her seat. That is until Snape saw them.

"Granger!" he snapped. "Did I not tell you to stop helping Longbottom with his potions? Ten points from Gryffindor." He paused before a nasty smile crept up his face. "If you are so adamant about your decision to help Longbottom, then maybe you would like to test his potion after he is finished making it."

Both Hermione and Neville paled instantly, as both Ron and Harry reddened in anger.

"You can't make her do that!" Harry shouted from his seat.

"Sit down, Mr. Potter. And make that detention with me every day till the end of this week. You cannot tell me what I can and cannot do in this class." He turned back to Hermione. "Well Ms. Granger?" he gestured to Neville's cauldron.

As Hermione approached the bubbling, vibrant red solution that was Neville's potion, she noticed that her classmates (and even Snape) backed away from the cauldron, as if it would explode on her. As she bent down to scoop the potion she saw something fall into the cauldron.

She didn't have time to react as the potion exploded. Black smoke emitted from the cauldron, impairing her view. She coughed a few times before performing a bubble-head charm. She couldn't hear Snape talking. In fact she couldn't hear anyone talking. As the smoke dissipated, Hermione looked around the room. Nobody was there. Her belongings weren't there.

Strange.

Ron and Harry were probably just playing a trick on her.

She went out of the dungeons. It was very dark for some reason, as if it were already nighttime. Walking along the corridor, she bumped into someone, and both tumbled to the ground.

"Ow, ow, ow." The boy beneath her said. Hermione quickly got up and apologized. She extended a hand and helped the boy up.

"Are you all right?" Hermione had asked. Her voice sounded a bit rough and deep. Much like a boy's. It was probably a side-effect of the fumes.

"Yes, I'm fine." The black-haired boy dusted himself off and shot her a look, which she couldn't exactly see in the dark. "Next time, maybe you should watch where you're going."

Hermione gave the boy a look. "You could be a tad bit politer." She said coolly.

"I don't care what you think, mate." She could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

Hermione was about to retort when a different voice interrupted her.

"PADFOOT! Where are you?"

Padfoot?

"Over here, James!"

James?

She could hear people walking towards them.

"Ouch! That was my foot, James!"

"Well, I can't see as well as you do in the dark!"

A hand rested on Hermione's shoulder. She jumped in surprise.

"Who are you?" Hermione asked them.

"I think the question is, 'Who are you'?"

"Oh, he's just someone I bumped into on the way from the kitchens." Said the boy from a while ago.

"Siri, is that you?"

Siri?

"That's me, Moony."

Moony?

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Annoyed, Hermione grabbed her wand, "Lumos."

Light erupted from the tip of her wand and she got a good look at three. She gasped in surprise.

To her right was Sirius Black, also known as Padfoot, godfather of Harry Potter, first and only Azkaban escapee, framed by Peter Pettigrew. In front of her was Remus Lupin, also known as Moony, a werewolf, their ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. And on her right was James Potter, AKA Prongs, ex-Auror, husband of Lily Potter nee' Evans, and father of Harry James Potter.

She stared at them in shock.

The wheels in her head started to turn, but they stopped abruptly.

She really was unable to comprehend how the three of them were in front of her, and a lot younger at that.

Therefore, she thought of the only logical solution:

Going to Dumbledore.

"Nox," She extinguished the light and walked away from the three.

"Mental, that one," She heard as she was striding away. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and she was quite able to see where she was going. Only when she reached Dumbledore's office did she ignite her wand.

"Ummm," it then occurred to her that she didn't even know the password to his office. Oh well, she could always guess. "Acid Pops?" she said hopefully, but the gargoyle didn't move.

"Er, Cockroach Cluster? Chocolate Frogs? Bertie Botts Every Flavored Beans? Pumpkin Pasties? Cauldron Cakes?"

No reaction. She was starting to get frustrated.

"Lemon Drop? Sherbet Lemon?"

Still no reaction.

"Ughhh. Reese's Peanut Butter cups? Butterfinger? Kitkat?"

Finally, the gargoyle moved aside. And as Hermione ascended the steps to Dumbledore's office, she found herself wondering how in the world Dumbledore knew about Kitkats. Casting the thought aside, she knocked on the door.

"Come in." came Dumbledore's voice. Hermione opened the door and he looked mildly bewildered at seeing her. His expression shifted back to what Hermione loved to call "the grandfather look" and smiled at her.

"Can I help you, Mister-?"

Hermione bristled at his addressing her. Not only did he not recognize her, but he even called her a mister!

"Professor, it's me, Hermione Granger."

Dumbledore continued to stare at her for a moment.

"Fifth year, Gryffindor prefect?" she reminded him. He merely looked at her curiously.

"Well, Mr. Granger…"

"It's Miss Granger, Professor. Honestly, do I look that much like a guy to you?" she said, affronted. She gasped as she realized whom she was talking to. "I'm sorry, Professor, I didn't mean to-,"

"It is quite all right, my boy," his eyes twinkled. "Forgive me for what I am about to say, Ms. Granger, but from where I am seated, I'm afraid you do." The Headmaster eyed her.

Hermione sighed, and ran her hand through her short, straight hair. As she opened her mouth to say something to him, she froze.

Wait a minute.

Short, straight hair?

She gasped before both of her hands flew to her head. Strangely enough, her hair was as short as Harry's, and was straight rather than the bushy state she was used to.

"What happened to my hair?" she panicked. What in the world happened to her. As she fretted over her state, Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Perhaps you had a haircut before coming here?" he suggested somewhat lamely. "Did you want to apply at Hogwarts, Miss Granger? It is, after all, only the 1st of September. You would not have any catching up to do, yet."

Hermione looked at him, puzzled. Unless she was mistaken, it was the 25th of January. "But sir, it's-," she stopped abruptly as a thought entered her mind.

"Sir," her voice wavered a bit. "What year is it?" she asked, fearing the answer.

"Ahhh. I see now." Dumbledore nodded briefly before peering at her over his half-moon spectacles. "A time-traveler? We haven't had those in quite some time." He paused. "And to answer your question Ms. Granger, it's 1975."

The 70s. Oh joy.

"May I ask the circumstances which led to your appearing here?" He asked.

She launched into her tale about what happened during potions, carefully leaving out all their names.

Dumbledore nodded his head. "That potion explosion might also have caused your transformation."

Hermione sighed. This needed some getting used to. Oh yes, she was used to all the weird things that had happened to her. Being Harry's friend definitely put her in many strange situations, but this, by far, was the most surreal.

"So, professor, am I stuck like this…forever?"

"Not likely, my dear." he said. "No worries, I will talk to our resident Potions Master about the situation. I have a feeling he would be glad to help." He gave her a smile. "You are a Gryffindor, correct?"

She nodded.

"All right. You will then be residing in the Gryffindor Tower tomorrow. As of tonight, you may use of one of the unused quarters in the seventh floor."

Hermione nodded again, and the two proceeded to the seventh floor. Dumbledore stopped before a painting.

"Good evening, Perseus." He greeted the man in the painting.

"I wouldn't exactly call it 'good' since you have clearly disturbed it already, you barmy old coot!" Perseus snapped. Hermione could swear she was hearing Snape talking.

Dumbledore merely chuckled. "Forgive me, Perseus. But this young…boy needs to stay in these rooms."

"Hmph. Very well. Enter." He said irritably was the portrait swung open.

Hermione glanced at the room and at once got the feeling that she was in the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. The room was small, and looked like it hasn't been used in many years. There was dust everywhere.

"I was hoping to give you better accommodations than this, Ms. Granger, but I am afraid that this is the only spare room we have." He sounded apologetic. He waved his wand, and the room was magically cleaned, but still looked shabby.

"No, it's really fine, Professor. I apologize for imposing." she looked down.

"It's no problem, Hermione." He said cheerfully. "I hope you settle in quite well. I have ordered a house elf to bring up some clothes for you. Tomorrow, you will find a trunk in your room filled with what you need for the term."

"About that sir, what name would you suggest I use?"

"It depends on you."

She thought for a while. Daniel was a nice first name.

"How about Daniel, sir? Daniel…"

"Chronos?" The Headmaster suggested.

Hermione grinned at the pun. Trust Dumbledore to think of a time-related last name. "Daniel Chronos it is, sir."

Dumbledore beamed, eyes twinkling. "Well, now that that's settled, I shall bid you good night, Mr. Chronos."

"Good night, professor."

And that was what happened. Hermione grimaced at the thought of tomorrow. She turned away from the mirror and looked at the pajamas sprawled on her bed. Shaking her head, she changed into them. Taking off her shirt, she noticed the flatness of her chest. She sighed. This really was something she needed to get used to.

Now completely dressed, she flopped down on the bed, and worried about tomorrow.

She dreaded meeting people who were dead during her time or were Death Eaters. She was convinced that meetings with them would either lead her to get so angry and hex them for no reason or breakdown and cry. Either way, it was not a good sign. And, it was highly possible and probable that her presence would end up screwing up the timeline. She hoped she would get through the week.

Who am I kidding? I don't even know if I'm going to last until tomorrow!

A she fell asleep, one thought dominated her head:

I'm screwed.

A/N:

Read and review please. ^^ I would appreciate it if no one would flame. It is, indeed, a waste of both of our time. But if you have any constructive criticism to leave, feel free to do so. :D