Chapter Text
The buildings passed by in a blur. A mass of burned wood platforms crowded around rocky cobblestone pathways, twisting around and through the dark alleyways, long since abandoned.
Flicking street lamps lined the broken paths, crumbling under the rough footsteps of those passing over them.
A woman, short and thin with black hair and sharp gray eyes, bounded across the old pathways, clutching an unknown object to her chest. Her dark blue robes fluttered gracefully as she bounced across the trail, the white lining shimmering in the gentle light of the moon. Her footsteps, though quick, were quiet and light, almost afraid to touch the fragile stones of the track.
The men behind her, however, seemed to care none for the flimsy rocks. They trailed along after her, long wooden sticks outstretched in their hands. They paid no mind to the burdened rocks beneath them, their footsteps pounding. Black fabric danced in the wind and white masks radiated fear.
"Get back here!" A man's rough voice sounded through the cool night air, shattering the near silence.
The woman paid no attention to the men. She tore through the weeds growing up from in between the stones beneath her, bare feet slapping the cool grass as she turned right into a field.
Mistake.
The men were persistent, and they surrounded her in seconds. The woman clutched the object in her hands desperately, but her face was a mask.
A man walked forward casually, his face barely visible beneath the mask, but the woman could make out two straight lines down his face all the way down to his neck. Scars, she presumed, the Cruento War was the bloodiest war of the Wizarding ( and muggle, but they are forbidden of talking them) World, for both sides.
The woman resists the urge to flinch back; she can't fully see his face, but she knew people who fought in the Cruento War, and their wounds are deep. Deeper than the scars that line their skin.
She was only a little girl when the Cruento War was fought, five or six, so she doesn't remember much. But there was one thing she remembered. Something she could never forget. Something no one could forget.
The death.
The sheer force of the Dark Lord's army hit muggles and muggle-borns alike, sparing none. The woman was lucky to be a Pureblood, or else she would be dead. Just like her friends.
The man, presumably the leader of this particular group of thugs-sorry Death Eaters-, turns his mouth up into a small, smug smirk. He holds on his hand as if he was in a business meeting.
"Rhea Esmeray," the man addresses slowly, "I believe you have something that belongs to us. If you hand back the time turner, we will go peacefully, no harm will be done to you or anyone close to you."
The man's tone was polite and sympathizing, but Rhea isn't stupid. She knows that tone, the tone used by the Dark Lord during the panicked aftermath of the Cruento War to 'reassure' citizens. It didn't fool her then, and it won't fool her now.
But Rhea is smart. She knows if she plays her cards right, she can escape with the Time-Turner. She can change the past, and make a better future if she succeeds. If they get together.
Rhea decides to play stupid, her mother always said it wasn't hard. She blinked innocently at the man, still cradling the time turner in her arms. "Time turner? What... this thing? But it's a necklace.."
Rhea sees a vein protruding from the man's face and she resists the urge to smirk.
"Miss Esmeray," the man starts, barely contained rage evident faintly in his voice, "perhaps we got off on the wrong foot."
"Chasing me down the streets of a scary, rundown town definitely counts as getting off on the wrong foot," Rhea inputs, basking in the hilarity as the man's nostrils flared with anger. Good, she thinks, a little more.
The man clears his throat. "Yes, I suppose so. In any case, the necklace in your hand is not, in fact, a simple necklace. It is very dangerous in the hands of anyone except His Majesty. Please, hand it back here."
Rhea clicks her tongue, pretending to think about it. "What's in it for me?"
"Not dying, you impertinent, dreadful son of a-" the man physically has to shake his hand to calm himself, though it didn't seem to work. "Forgive me, Miss Esmeray. That was rude of me."
"Yes, yes it was. You should be ashamed of yourself," Rhea says, unashamed with using simple emotional manipulation tactics. The man's self-control over his anger, or lack thereof, in this case, is something she will take full advantage of, unabashedly.
The man makes a noise in between a grunt and a scream. He smooths his robe down and opens his mouth to speak. "Anyway," he replied, teeth gritted, "I merely meant that you would not go to jail, and would be free of all, or most, charges that you have made against the laws."
"Which are? I don't believe I've done anything wrong."
"You have stolen a very valuable object-"
"It's a necklace."
"-from the Dark Lord-"
"I bet he doesn't mind."
"-which you shouldn't be in possession of.." The man finishes, his hold on his anger almost nonexistent.
Almost.
Rhea smiles him her most annoying smile, ignoring the thought of her dad saying all her smiles are annoying. "Oh? Why put it out where everyone can see it then?" She tsked, sounding disappointed. "That wasn't very smart of you, but not surprising. Death Eaters aren't the brightest tools in the shed."
The man exploded.
Perfect.
The man grabbed his wand from his pocket and gestured for the Death Eaters behind him to do the same.
Three seconds.
Three seconds is how long it takes for them to get out their wands.
It took them three seconds to realize Rhea was gone.
It took Rhea three seconds to Apparate onto a nearby roof. Apparating was outlawed a while ago, reserved for only the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, but Rhea was a criminal anyway. But if her plan worked, she would be so much more than a petty criminal.
Rhea crouched down, hand placed carefully on the ground. That was risky, and she knew that, but she had to get away. They'd find where she is eventually, but she'd be long gone by then.
She took the time turner and gently placed it around her neck, grabbing the protruding screw on the side of the cool metal object, twisting it multiple times.
She waited with bated breath as the world changed around her, throwing her into the past.
Rhea had no idea what it would feel like to go into the past. Not many people do, obviously. But she didn't expect it to be...Peaceful, maybe? She didn't know how to describe it; she's never been good with words.
The broken and battered buildings of what used to be Hogsmeade faded into something brighter. The walls of the stores were no longer burned and bruised, but instead painted and showed signs of life. The windows weren't boarded up and shattered, the windows had signs and mannequins peering through the window, and products were displayed on counters.
The biggest change, though, was the people. Rhea had never seen so many people together at once (large gatherings were banned, too, probably to shut down any thoughts of rebellions). They all seemed so...so...
Happy.
Everywhere people were smiling, eating and drinking, shopping, or spending time with their families. Rhea was always interested in the past-before the Cruento War. Her mother and father had always discouraged that behavior, always saying it was bound to get them killed. Them, not her.
Rhea almost forgot why she was here, she was so mesmerized by the vast beauty and delightful crowds, but she shook her head and sprang up from the roof.
She needed to find Hogwarts. She had no idea where that was, it had been one of the first things torn down after the war.
Rhea needed information, and these unusually happy people were going to give it to her.
She carefully climbed down the roof, using the fire escape to be unnoticed, and adjusted her outfit. She had prepared for this trip, but she felt unprepared now that she's actually in the past.
She approached a woman with a tall hat and blonde hair. She looked nice enough, so Rhea decided she should start with her.
Rhea taps the woman's shoulder, making her jump. "Oh my goodness!" The woman screeched, making Rhea cringe. Luckily, no one paid them any attention.
"Sorry, miss," Rhea apologized, remembering her manners. Her grandmother, the only good family she had, drilled manners into her head since she was able to talk. She also, coincidentally, was the one who taught Rhea how to be manipulative. Not important, though.
"Oh," the woman says, taking notice of Rhea and smiled at her kindly. "It's fine, dear. Do you need anything?"
Rhea smiled back at her, albeit a little forced. "I was wondering if you could show me where Hogwarts is."
The woman furrows her eyebrows. "You don't know where it is?" Rhea shakes her head. "Why would you want to go there?"
Rhea, thank Merlin for her quick thinking, responded. "Sorry, I'm new here. I came in from America to learn more about the Wizarding World in other places besides America."
"Oh, well I apologize for questioning you." Rhea barely contained an eye roll. Too trusting. The woman proceeds to give Rhea directions. Rhea thanks the woman and heads off to Hogwarts.
Rhea didn't get very far.
She made it halfway before a smiling man with twinkling eyes and a long white beard. His eyes crinkled at the edges and his kind face made her stop. Rhea swore she's seen this man before.
Blue eyes.
White beard.
Kind face.
Dumbledore.
Albus Dumbledore smiled at her as if sensing her thoughts. "When I was told a young woman appeared on top of my brother's store, I didn't believe it. I suppose I was wrong."
Rhea stared at him. Courage flooded through her, surprising her. She stormed up to Dumbledore, getting close to his face and she grabbed the front of his robe. If he was shocked, he didn't show it.
"You listen here, old man," Rhea growled. "I need to get two Gryffindor fourth years together in a year or the world is doomed. You're going to take me to Hogwarts and let me become a student."
And, surprising Rhea even more than her blunt comment and courage, the man complied.