A/N: Just something I was dreaming about the last night. It was a bloody awesome vivid dream! Who the hell needs movies?

Summary: Hermione Granger didn't want to live in the world where everyone dear to hear were dead. She travels back in time, but unfortunately ends up in a body not her own.

Disclaimer. I own nothing.

LEGACY OF SALTRIAN

by CreatorZorah

Chapter 1

It was an old shabby building located in a small village in the middle of nowhere. A large once beautiful garden in front of it was hopelessly overgrown and unkempt. There were rumors that a scary old hag was living there. Some people were claiming that they had seen the hag. Merciless parents would even use the hag as a boogeyman. No-one really knew much about the building and the hag who lived there.

But the hag wasn't a hag. She was a human and many would be surprised to find that she lived there in such conditions. She was famous and didn't lack money. Neither was she very old for her kind. If she'd cared enough about her look, the woman would still be able to break a few hearts.

Her name was Hermione Granger and she was famous for defeating a dark wizard, who had been terrorizing the magical kind for many years. She was a hero of the wizarding world, but nobody knew where she had vanished to after her triumph. It's been twenty years since then, and she had been working stubbornly on her project. Today her hard work paid off. She was ready to perform the spell.

But a few words and wand waves away from her goal, Hermione was hesitating. She knew that there wasn't much time, it was the best chance to perform the spell. However she wasn't sure about consequences. Would the spell cause time to branch or will it completely destroy this version of future? What would happen to those who would stay in this time? Hermione took a deep breath. She was going to get back in time no matter what, because she didn't want to live in the world, where everyone dear to her were dead. A few moments later she waved her wand and uttered the incantation.

The Janus Thickey Ward of St. Mungo was a relatively quiet place. There weren't many patients, and the vast majority was way too damaged to cause any commotion. Nine of them would never wake up again. At least that was what healers believed, because the reality was going to prove them wrong. For a moment healers were confused as to why would they hear this particular alarm. The alarm that announced the awakening of one of the long term patienten.

"Are you sure she's really waking up?" one of the healers asked when they gathered in the tiny room around the bed.

"Let's see," the other said, using a spell to determine if the patient in question was in a deep magical coma. The tip of his wand glowed a bright green colour and she smiled. "She's definitely on her way to the world of living."

"Who is she anyway?" a young female healer asked.

"She's the most famous patient of this ward, Jenny," the older man answered.

"Really? And why is that so?" Jenny asked.

"She's our oldest patient. Taken to the ward in 1945..."

"You've got to be kidding me, James!" Jenny interrupted him. "She most certainly doesn't look like she's past her fifties."

James smiled. "That's the reason why she is famous. According to our diagnostic spells she stopped aging when she was twenty."

"How is that possible?" Jenny asked. "And who is she?"

"No-one knows how," another healer answered. "We'll have to ask her once she's awake."

"As for your other question," James said. "She's Elisabeth Saltrian, the last known member of the ancient German House. They were a lot like our Blacks. Elisabeth was found unconscious on the battlefield in France during the global wizarding war."

Jenny gulped. "Did she fight for Grindelwald then?"

"Ted thinks she did," James said.

"It's just a theory, her whole family fought for Grindelwald, I doubt she's an exception," the healer said. "But I'm mostly interested in her body."

"Oh? Her body?" James teased with a grin.

"James! You bloody troll. That's not what I mean. Her ever-young body can't be natural. Must be some Dark Magic..."

"You don't know that," James argued. "For all we know she could be cursed."

"Perhaps. "

"Why is she here then and not in France or, well, Germany?" Jenny asked looking at James.

James snickered. "Ted is here the expert. Knows all about the sleeping beauty."

Jenny raised an eyebrow. "The expert?" she teased "Does Andi know about it?"

"Not you too... Shut up, Jenny," Ted said and frowned. "She is awake, I think. James, talk to her, you know German."

"Eh...Right," James muttered. "Fräulein Saltrian, können du mir hören?"

Hermione knew that something went wrong the moment she was flooded with completely foreign memories. Fortunately she was a very good Occlumens and was able to sort through the chaos of flashbacks. Apparently, instead of getting back into her younger self, Hermione's host was Elisabeth Saltrian.

Eight years old Elisabeth laughed as she ran through the hallways of the ancient castle. She wouldn't dare to run so carelessly in the dim lights of the magical lanterns at night, but in the broad daylight, it was her favorite place.

"Alohomora," she whispered, opening a door.

"Elisabeth!"

She grinned at the furious voice of her older sister and ran out of the door to the balcony, where she cast a minor sticking charm on her shoes and climbed up the wall to the tower's roof. Her mother would whip her if she'd seen her daughter on the roof of the tallest tower of their ancestral castle. But the view from there was breathtaking and it was nice to sit there and watch at the people of Saltrianta.

She had been a follower of Gellert Grindelwald and not just any, Elisabeth was one of the best soldiers at his command. But that wasn't the main problem. The last memory dated with 1944 and that was a problem, because she didn't want to destroy the timeline. She wanted to meet Harry, Ron, and everyone else. That aside the host's memories contained too much of the Dark Arts for Hermione's liking. But the host's Hunger was absolutely the worst. It was unbearable, like being tortured with a milder version of the Cruciatus Curse.

"Shut up, Jenny," someone said. The voice was familiar. "She is awake, I think. James, talk to her, you know German."

"Eh... Right... Fräulein Saltrian, können du mir hören?"

She wanted to eat them. It was almost impossible to fight the urge. If not for Occlumency, she would suck the people dry the very next moment. However, her will was stronger than that. Hermione fought the host's urges and won the battle... for now. Hermione knew that she would need to eat someone if she didn't want to go into a feeding frenzy.

They spoke English. That was a good sign. Hermione opened her eyes slowly. The light was very bright, but her eyes were adjusting fast. Soon she saw two men and a woman who were looking at her. And one of them she recognized instantly. Ted Tonks. The right time, but the wrong host. She could end up in her own body or in the body of her close magical relative. However Hermione wasn't aware that she had any magical relatives. Consequently, she wasn't a muggleborn at all. What the hell?

"Fräulein Saltrian?" Fräulein. Hermione struggled to not grin. A two-hundred-years-old, thrice-married thrice-widowed Fräulein.

"You may speak English," Hermione said with a smile and thought, 'Because your German is horrible.'

It was difficult to talk. She tried to move her arms and legs, but she was too weak. A very strange feeling, the body didn't feel like her own. Well, the body hadn't been her own. Now, however, she had to adjust.

"Oh, very well, Miss Saltrian. I'm Healer James Davis and these are my colleagues Jenny McDowell and Ted Tonks. How are you feeling?"

"Weak," she answered.

"That's to be expected, but you'll get better. Would you answer a few silly questions?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes."

"Do you remember your name?"

"Elisabeth."

"Good. And how about your birthday?"

She hesitated. The host was ancient, but she wasn't sure if the healers knew it. She decided to tell the truth. "Sixteenth July, 1812." Hermione nearly cursed when she saw how her answer affected the healers. They were bloody shocked. They didn't know and she could have just lied.

"Are you sure?" James asked. "It's just you look... young."

"I'm sure. Born to Marie Saltrian née Gauti and Wilhelm Saltrian."

"It looks good," Ted said. "The date and names are adding up."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. Good that she hadn't lied. "And how do you know that?"

"Well," he muttered blushing. "We knew only your name. I was curious and studied some documents which mention your family."

It was getting more and more difficult to fight the Hunger. She decided to hasten the conversation. "How long I was out?"

"You... were in a magical coma for forty eight years. I'm sorry." So the date was right, and her calculations weren't wrong. Good.

"Well, I'm still alive," she said smiling.

Ted continued, "May I ask you what the last thing you remember?"

Elisabeth was standing on the cliff edge, her long black hair was streaming on the wind as she looked at the muggle ships moving towards the coast. The continent was carefully warded to make apparition without authorization very dangerous, portkeying impossible. Usage of brooms and flying carpets was very restricted too. The invading wizards were forced to come with muggles using these crude vessels.

She raised her wand and closed her eyes. The hottest fire was born at the tip of her wand and streamed down to the ships. It was growing larger, fiercer; heads of various creatures began to form out of the fire, getting closer to the allied forces. They tried to shield themselves... in vain. Fiendfyre consumed dozens of vessels and she was still feeding the demonic fire with her magic. Suddenly she sensed a danger, but too late. A curse hit her in the back. Traitors...

Hermione frowned. It would be difficult to deal with her host's memories. Hermione wasn't sure who was worse, her host or Voldemort. The later didn't drain other wizards of their life force, magic and didn't consume their souls. The host's curse, 'thanks' to her succubus grandmother. She couldn't live without taking lives. Why this host?! Bloody horrible. Disgusting. On the other hand the host had been sane unlike Voldemort. Elisabeth had been an outstanding soldier, not a crazed maniac.

There was no reason to lie. Hermione knew that she wouldn't be tried just like the most pure-blood families who had followed Grindelwald. Unless they knew that she was a succubus half-breed, she had nothing to worry about. And Hermione doubted that anyone could identify her as such. Succubus half-breeds were extremely rare, maybe unique even. It was difficult to have an intercourse with a succubus without being eaten in process. The host's grandfather had guts to trust a succubus that claimed to be in love with him.

"I fought against allied forces in Normandy," she answered causing Jenny to take a step back. "Am I a prisoner?"

"No, of course not. The war is over, it's been forty seven years since then."

"I take it, your side has won?"

"Yes," Ted answered simply.

"What a shame," Hermione said with a sigh. "If I'm not a prisoner, may I leave then?"

"We would like you to stay until tomorrow. It's not everyday a comatose patient wakes up after almost fifty years. You need to regain your strength. Then there are a few formalities to sort out and arrange before you may discharge yourself. Do you wish us to inform the German Ministry about your recovery?"

Hermione nodded. "I'd appreciate it. By the way, why wasn't I transferred to Germany?"

"Germany doesn't have the same policy of keeping comatose patients alive for periods longer than ten years. But they didn't wish to lose the last Saltrian."

"Makes sense," Hermione said trying to not yawn. "I'm tired. Being sleepy after fifty-years-long sleep."

"It's perfectly normal," James reassured her and handed her a phial filled with a green liquid. "Please drink the potion. It'll restore your strength while you're sleeping."

"Thank you," she said and drank the potion.