Chapter Text
"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."
The castle was a ruin. No wall was left unmarked – if they stood at all, they were marred by shattered windows, blood splatter, craters, and explosion shadows. The house tapestries of the Great Hall hung in ribbons, the floor hastily swept clear of glass shards and wood splinters to make way for people to gather with their families and their dead.
The Weasley’s were a shambles. Fred lay on the floor with Ron and his mother kneeling over him, wailing and wrecked with grief. Hermione stood nearby with Ginny hugged tight into her, the roaring in her own head drowning out her friends’ cries. She could feel the pain in the back of her head and throat, tears pricking at her eyes and breathing becoming irregular. The whole battle had been horror after horror, and there was no sign of it stopping.
Voldemort had called a one-hour armistice, allowing them the opportunity to find the bodies of their fallen, treat the injured, and regroup. It looked like mercy – a moment to breathe. It was an opportunity for his own people to get ahead, as his enemies felt the crushing reality of their losses. How long had they been here now? How long was left before the fighting started again – before the deaths started again?
She glanced around, feeling that something was missing. Where was Harry? He should be here at a time like this - he should be with them.
Her hand touched her bag, reaching inside and fumbling with a familiar little necklace therein. A time-turner. She’d picked it up when they’d stormed the Ministry in ‘96, two years ago. It’d been pure luck to find one, and she’d felt at the time that not to grab it would be a mistake. Now she was thankful she had, as the entire rest of the Ministry’s stock had been effectively destroyed. As she stared at Fred, motionless and quickly becoming cold as the floor he lay on, she ran her thumb over the concentric circles, feeling the engraved symbols and the little hourglass at the centre.
It was irresponsible to travel back in time with intention to change the future. She’d held off until now. But as she stared down at Fred, her mind screamed at her.
She could fix this. She could go back in time. She could save him.
Where was Harry?
With a last squeeze, she parted from Ginny and made her way out of the Great Hall, stumbling a little with the combined numbness in her body and the new thrill of energy and hope. There were too many people, even out here - nobody should see her do this. She pulled the necklace from her bag and clutched it to her chest, hidden but anxious to put it around her neck. A few more turns and she saw a familiar tapestry which she knew had an alcove behind it. She secured the chain around her neck as she approached.
“Hermione? Where are you going?”
She spun and found Ron not far behind her, red from crying and looking confused and lost.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said, walking back to meet him, holding the time-turner tighter until it hurt.
“What’re you planning?” he asked, looking at her carefully. His eyes were a little too keen.
“I don’t want to tell you in case it doesn’t work,” she bit her lip. The idea of getting his hopes up only to fail was unbearable. It would only magnify the grief. His brow furrowed.
“We’re best friends, ‘Mione. Whatever it is, whatever happens, I’ll help you,” he reassured her, stepping a little closer, and her heart fluttered a little – anxiety? Love? Relief? She took a deep breath to steady herself and shook her head, resolute.
“We are. But–” she broke off as she felt an almost overwhelming pressure in her head and noticed Ron wincing as well.
“Harry Potter is dead,” Voldemort’s voice rang inside their heads, and their eyes met again with shock and horror. In a moment of instinct, she let go of the time-turner in favour of grabbing Ron’s hand and ran with him to the alcove. She could fix this. She could go back in time. She could save them.
“He was killed as he ran away,” the voice continued as she glanced around and pulled back the tapestry.
Orange. A bright flash of light, a shout, the shocked face of a death eater, and Ron’s hand slipped from hers.
…
She didn’t immediately realise what was happening when the world started spinning.
The death eater in front of her reversed course in perfect, soundless rewind, and all that was left in her ears was the tick of some invisible clock and her own heartbeat in unison. Day turned to dawn and night flew in with breathtaking speed.
It was a blessing in some ways, to have that prior fear of the moment melt away, knowing she’d evaded death in some perverse manner. But it was speeding up. And she couldn’t move to stop it. The faster it turned, the more difficult movement became. The pressure she felt around her closed in, making it difficult to breathe.
Meanwhile, the blurred world was going by so fast that no longer was night and day distinguishable. It was a permanent grey blur, and only seasons were noticeable through the window by their distinct colours - the red of autumn, the white of winter, the green of summer and the colours of spring going by within seconds of one another.
Her first thought was that she’s been hit by a spell that she’d not come across in any of her books.
Her second thought was That’s ridiculous, Hermione, you’ve read basically every book there is.
Her third thought was What if it’s a new spell someone made up?
Finally, she thought to ask What is that glowing thing in front of me?
She focused on the glowing and realized, with growing horror, that the glowing object was the red-hot time-turner spinning wildly out of control. Its velocity seemed to be increasing still further, as the circles span so fast as to appear to reverse direction, which should have been impossible. She’d have questioned it had she not known it was only an illusion.
Struggling against the momentum, she reached out to stop it, only for her hand to be harshly spat away from the time-turner as its speed and heat made it nigh impossible to grab. She reached out again, desperate, this time with both hands, and grabbed it in her palms as tight as she could. Then all at once, the world stopped. It screeched to such a sudden halt and made her retch, and she immediately collapsed to her knees, trembling uncontrollably.
Burning pain seared her hand and made her drop the time-turner, but at least it’d stopped spinning.
And she’d stopped traveling.
The euphoria of escaping death wore off, only to be replaced with cold realization; she’d gone back in time, with no idea how far. She had no idea how to get back.
She ran a shaking hand through her mane of hair, pulling the chestnut locks as a reminder that she was here, now, that her head wasn’t elsewhere. Her hand travelled down her neck across to her other arm and dug her nails into the skin, flinching at the pain and the confirmation that the situation was very much real.
She looked around, blowing gently on her burned hands, panic slowly growing and eyes widening.
It’s okay, she reassured herself. There’s a way back, and at least you’re alive to find it.
But what if there wasn’t a way? Why hadn’t she done some research into this kind of event before she’d begun using the time-turner in the first place?
Because you didn’t think this would happen, her head reminded her harshly. The thought never even occurred to you, and nobody else thought to mention it either.
There’s a distinct possibility it’s never happened before. After all, if such an occurrence had been documented, surely it would have been mentioned to her?
And now you have to find a way back. You need to. The war isn’t over yet – your friends need you, and now you’ve abandoned them.
The thought almost made her retch from the sudden wave of guilt.
Trying to steady her breathing and her shaking hands, she tried to twist the time-turner in the opposite direction. No dice. Of course it didn’t go forward through time. She felt her gut twist in anger and fear.
“Okay, okay,” she said to herself, turning and looking around at the notably quieter castle than the one she’d left. “First things first, where am I?”
She stopped and frowned.
“When am I,” she corrected herself. She could have travelled any amount of time backward, there was no clear answer yet, and she’d not taken note of her changing surroundings in her more immediate need to stop the time-turner.
She took a deep breath, steadying herself, trying to quell the hysteria in her gut. She’d need to avoid seeing anyone until she could figure out when she’d landed, and she’d need to figure out another way to find out the date. And she’d need to then figure out how to get back to her own time.
She looked down at the time-turner and sighed. It was still glowing a little while the heat died, but it was smoking and sending off tiny sparks, and the hourglass was cracked. That didn’t look promising.
“I hope it still works,” she murmured, and resolved to ignore it for now. With a bit of luck, maybe it would be fine after it had cooled off.
…
The Whomping Willow was missing, so Lupin hadn’t reached Hogwarts age yet, but that didn’t really narrow down what year it was. The best way to tell what year it was would be to find a newspaper or perhaps a lost student assignment with a date written on it.
With that goal in mind, she had cast a disillusionment spell on herself and thanked her lucky stars that it was night as she softly made her way through the castle with intent to get into the library.
She’d already had to duck around corners and muffliato her own breathing to avoid the patrols of prefects and teachers. She’d almost sneaked her way into a couple snogging behind some curtains in one of the many shortcuts of the castle. Good to know the school was still in use, at least, with all these obstacles, though again that didn’t mean anything considering how timeless the Wizarding world was in general.
Ha.
She looked around, scanning the hallway for anyone coming, ducked to the doors of the library, and gently tested the handle. Locked. A gentle alohomora spell had her past the doors. At least the library wasn’t generally heavily guarded, at least not as much as the restricted section. She slid inside and flipped the lock closed again behind her.
The quiet of the library, and the familiar smell of old parchment, instantly helped to calm her. While ever this sanctuary and wealth of knowledge existed, she would worm her way out of any predicament, this one included. But she didn’t let down her guard – if she was the kind to break into a library, there might be other students who would as well, especially if she was here anytime near finals.
The layout of the library hadn’t changed at all, which was an added comfort. She found the archives of newspapers easily and navigated her way to the most recent collection. Pulling out the latest paper, she stared at the date in the top corner.
September 3, 1944.
Okay, good start. She had gone back in time a little over fifty years. No wonder the time-turner wasn’t in such good shape by the time they landed – spinning back fifty years in barely a minute?
She pulled the time-turner out again and frowned at its discolouration. It was still sending off tiny sparks, but it was cool to touch.
Well, it can’t hurt to test it out, right?
She looked around, again scanning for students or teachers, and ducked into an alcove of books on Scandinavian flora to try and keep hidden. It wouldn’t help to accidentally travel forward only to find a student standing next to her, and this spot should do for a short test.
She faced the window, looking out at the moonlit courtyard and noted where the shadow was on the cobble. Then, lifting the time-turner, she tried a half-turn, in a bid to only travel an hour back in time, if that.
She held her breath as she waited for the time-turner to spin back, but nothing changed.
With a bite of her lip, she tried again. Same result.
Fuck.
Okay, on to plan B, repairing the time-turner. Professor Croaker’s Law stated that it wasn’t safe to travel beyond five hours into the past, either for the traveller or for time itself, so surely there was a book somewhere in this library by or about him. She set off into the stacks, looking for any likely books she could think of.
A few minutes later she’d found a desk in a secluded corner of the library and dumped a couple of books onto it: Achievements in Charming by Sameera Hanifus and Extreme Incantations by Violeta Stitch.
She flipped open Achievements in Charming and started to scan the pages, keeping a keen eye out for any mention of time.