Chapter Text
(1979: Hall of Records)
Saul Croaker, Head of the Department of Mysteries, was having a rather uneventful day so far. The multiple projects he wants reviewing seemed to be progressing wonderfully with nary a hitch.
Fall had started as it usually did, the new academic year had already started at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Things were progressing on autopilot, as they normally did. That did not mean the dark forces permeating through the British Isles were stagnant. Many years and various missions in, Saul was quite privy to the changes occurring behind the well crafted illusion that was the Ministry of Magic.
People were scattering, choosing sides as the now feared persona He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was openly pulling strings, marking people. He had seen the Dark Mark on a few people that had been caught by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Saul had been privy to those individuals’ records, if only to assess what manner of rituals would create a thing like the brand in the first place.
Saul walked through the Hall of Records, there was a tell-tale sign of strong magics, and he had been alerted by his Unspeakables of it.
Four.
Saul breathed heavily as he stepped into the podium, atop which lay the Book of Ancestry. Specifically, the ancestral lines of the four founders of Hogwarts.
Four.
All four of them had activated simultaneously.
One, he could be sure, was a birth. It had been activated nearly nine months ago, too, last Christmas to be exact. But to have the other three activated on the same day the first Heir was taking birth, it was simply unheard of. It seemed impossible. And yet, as he looked at the first line marked with Potters dating back to the three centuries it held on the one page, the name of James Fleamont Potter glowed bright golden. Saul exhaled slowly. That seemed okay, James was married, Saul had himself officiated his wedding to muggleborn Lily Evans last winter. Next, he looked at the second page, marked with various lines ending in one Francis Algernon Longbottom. It was glowing a dark black, glittering with pride.
Saul raised his wand, slowly levitating the pages to the next Line. The one he was fearing. For why would Tom Riddle, now Lord Voldemort, the most feared Dark Wizard of the recent decades, bloody procreate? Saul did not have any idea how the boy, who he had once met nearly two decades ago, could ever father a child, could ever think of intimacy, could even have the capacity to love. Which was why he heaved a sigh of relief when he saw it was the bastard line that had activated. Merlin knew how happy he felt, even as he loathed the face of the Head of that house in particular. Sure enough, silver ink was glowing with the name of Lucius Malfoy.
Saul almost chuckled, Lucius had yet to understand the precarious position he'd put his family in. Abraxas was still hiding his secret from his cousin, his Lord, it seemed, if Lucius was indeed working his way to have an Heir.
Saul did not like his job, sometimes. It put him in the position to know about extremely private affairs of the founding lines. And even then, he gulped and looked at the other page of the book. The most interesting thing about the Book of Records was that it told you of the ancestry irrespective of the fact if the blood heir was magical or not. If the heir was a first or kin or not. If the heir was, to be simply put, born or not.
Hermione Jean Granger. The bronze ink shone still, a whiff of old books and parchment hitting his nose. Oh, Rowena’s daughter was certainly going to be a very bright child, whether she came to Hogwarts or not. He let his eyes flit up to see the name of the mother- no, not mother.
Saul read, and read again. Gertrude Kelly Granger. He could have sworn he'd never seen that name before in the Book. And he had been Director of DoM for going on thirty years now. Gertrude Kelly Granger.
“What is your name?”
The veritaserum had taken effect, and she could not lie. Not if she wanted the job.
“Gertrude Kelly Granger.”
“Kindly elaborate your academic credentials.”
“I attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry till I was fourteen. Due to a threat to my life, I was pulled through time. To a future I had no place in. So I took my OWLs and NEWTs at the Ministry this year. My transcripts have been evaluated already.”
“What do you mean you were pulled through time?”
“I was ambushed on my way home outside of Kings Cross, when I was fourteen. Two kids approached me, fought for me. They were nearly my age, and had student robes on. I did not question why they helped me. The girl had a Time Turner on her neck. When the boy had flattened all my attackers, the girl grabbed me and we travelled through time. It was weeks of camping, we stayed out of sight of many. Eventually, the girl figured out how to travel to the future. I asked to be sent to 1978, when I could be an adult and vanish in the crowd. The kids obliged and left me outside of Diagon Alley.”
A beat of silence.
“What did they look like?”
A deep inhale. “The boy looked like a Potter.”
“And the girl?”
“Like me. She could've been my twin.”
Saul blinked at the memory from the interrogation, no- the interview of Gertrude Granger. Merlin and Morgana! He quickly shut the book, and reinforced the wards only a handful of people could break. He rushed out, fast as his legs could take him. “Unspeakable Gerry. Send her to my office.” He barked at the guard outside.
Ten minutes later, a brown haired woman entered his office. “Croaker, Sir.” She nodded.
“Please take a seat, Granger.”
She winced lightly. “Please just call me Gerry.”
Saul exhaled a low breath. How to go about this? The woman clearly knew nothing about her bloodline. That was why the Ravenclaw line still thrived, though. They were blissfully unaware. They were…
“I was ambushed on my way home outside of Kings Cross, when I was fourteen.”
They had been attacked, same as Frank Longbottom and James Potter. They had only survived because….
“The boy looked like a Potter.”
“And the girl?”
“Like me. She could've been my twin.”
Hermione Jean Granger.
“Alright, Gerry.” Saul nodded. “I wish to know about your family.”
“I don't have any.” Her eyes faltered.
She could've been my twin.
“Any siblings?” Saul pressed.
Her eyes narrowed. “Am I being investigated?”
Not exactly. He already had her family history. It was clear he knew more than her about her own family. “No. You are not. I am merely fixated on a part from your interview.”
“The girl?” Gerry was quite intuitive. That's what he liked about her. “I know what I said, Saul. I know how impossible it sounds. Sometimes… sometimes I make myself think she's my daughter from the future.”
“Which is why I ask now. Do you have any siblings?”
She was startled at that. “You can't think… but I was an anomaly. My family never had any daughters before me. I do- I did have a brother. But the Grangers are… the family never had any daughters before me.”
Saul bit his lips in frustration. “How old is your brother now?” It must come from their mother, as expected. Rowena's daughters. Always a daughter.
“Well, he must be in university.” Not for long, Saul smirked inwardly. Poor boy had fathered a child. “He was, oh, six years younger than me. Saul, what is it that you want to know my brother about?”
“As it happens,” There were only two paths ahead. One, tell her the truth, show her the Book.
Do you know their names?
No.
The other, and the more likeable and durable option. If time had to be kept intact, if the universe couldn't be torn apart from what the two Heirs would do in their future, if the cracks he'd seen were to be mended, time had to loop back. He had to do this, to keep things on autopilot. “I merely need someone to join me in the Wizengamot. Someone without any dependencies or external responsibilities.”
Gertrude Granger opened her mouth in absolute shock. “M-me?”
(1971: Run Run Away)
A red light jetted from a corner as Gertrude exited Platform 9 ¾. She carefully ducked, which idiot was doing magic on Platform 9 at King's Cross? It had to be the most stupid thing one could do. An amber flash hit her hip, and she lost her grip on her trunk, her wand flying out of her pocket as she fell forward. She broke the fall with her hands.
Turning sharply, she saw three black robed men positioned strategically around the barrier. One of them pointed their wand at her, and her kneecap cracked.
She screamed. In pain. In disbelief. Death Eaters. She was a muggleborn, after all. Death Eaters. She was only fourteen. Death Eaters. Fearing her parents had already reached the platform, she looked around, trying to ignore her pain. A station guard was now kneeling beside her. “Kid, you alright? You need the hospital.” He directed a man nearing them to call an ambulance. “Can you try to stand?”
“My knee.” She whimpered. What was that spell? She could feel the pain spreading through her torso. “Can't, my knee.”
“Hang in there, an ambulance is on the way.” The kind man came back to check-in. “Do you need me to call your parents?”
She shook her head. The robed men had not moved away. They could not find her parents. They should never find her parents. “I haven't any.”
It was the first lie Gertrude Granger ever spoke. Suddenly, a girl came into her view, sporting the same wild brown hair she owned. She tugged at a boy, who glanced at the robed men, and with each glance, a mere look from a boy her age, they dropped where they stood.
Gertrude’s blood froze when the boy looked at her. He nodded and raised an arm. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, for several. The girl reached her. “Are you alright?”
Around Gertrude, nothing was happening. People were not moving. They were not speaking. They were not even looking at her. Wait, they were. There was a man, mid-way into crouching to check one of the robed men who'd fallen. The officer beside her had his mouth open towards the girl who had approached them. Gertrude looked around very carefully. Time seemed to have stopped. “What the fuck did you do?” She turned on the boy. If not for his dark green eyes, she'd have mistaken him to be James Potter, one of the first year rascals from Gryffindor.
“You're welcome.” The boy sassed. “It's a temporary stasis charm. I have a… secret.”
“Not now, Harry! Help me fix her knee.” The girl scolded.
“This is going to hurt.” The boy warned, placing his wand on her throbbing knee. Wordlessly, he set her bones, healed the cut and stitched up her flesh.
“How-” There was not even a throbbing vein left in her whole torso. “How did you do that?”
The boy, Harry, grinned. “Trade secret. Hermione, if you will.”
The girl extracted a small golden necklace from beneath her blouse. “When are we now?”
“She would know.” Harry turned to her. “So, when are we?”
“What do you mean?” Gertrude asked.
“What's the date?” Hermione clarified.
“December 13th.”
“And the year?” Harry asked.
“1971, of course.” Gertrude tried to be polite. They had just healed her broken knee.
“We made it two years!” Harry grinned. “Let's try 74, Hermione? I want to see Padfoot.”
“What are you talking about?”
Hermione and Harry shared a look. Harry whistled a second and then smiled. “What's your name?”
“Gertrude Granger.”
Hermione's eyes widened. “Gertrude?” She whispered.
“It's Shakespearean.” Gertrude defended herself. Come to think of it, so was Hermione. She checked her leg and bent it for good measure. “What is that thing?”
“Do you know a Gertrude Granger?” Harry turned to his friend, quite serious.
“N-no. Never heard the name.”
Gertrude liked it just fine. As a muggleborn in these times, it was much better to be completely invisible. “Weird. But that means…”
“Oh, of course. I've never heard of you!” Hermione slapped her forehead. Gertrude herself did that sometimes when she had a Eureka moment. “This is why we're here, Harry! For her!”
“I dunno.” Harry murmured. “Didn't McGonagall say to not tell anyone?”
“Minerva McGonagall?” Gertrude was interested in the two kids now. They were definitely Hogwarts students, wearing the quite visible Gryffindor robes.
“I already told you.” Hermione grunted. “But time is a loop. If I don't know you, it means something happened. We happened. Well, no time like the present.” She chuckled, grabbing Gertrude's wrist and slinging the necklace through her head. “Welcome to the madhouse, Gertrude.”
“What are you doing?”
Harry sighed. “You've been wanting to run away, haven't you?”
She was astonished as to how the boy had read her mind so clearly. She did want to run away. She never wanted any dark magic users to find her or her parents. God forbid, Rick! “I'm a muggleborn.” She muttered.
“So am I.” Hermione grinned. “Thirty six, is that right, Harry?”
“Try thirty nine. Lunar, remember?”
“That's not even an Arith- oh!” Hermione quickly shut up. She started turning the hourglass and Gertrude reached up to touch it. Hermione swatted her arm away. “No.”
“Touchy-touchy.”
Hermione glared at her friend.
“What is it?” Gertrude asked again.
Hermione didn't reply, but her surroundings did. The moment the girl let go of the small hourglass attached to the necklace, Harry shot a spell wordlessly at it. Around Gertrude, people started moving. At exponential speed. Night fell and day rose. Again and again and again. Gertrude's head was spinning, much like her surroundings. It felt like ages before Kings Cross came to a halt again. It was early morning. Her head snapped to Hermione, who grinned.
“This is a Time Turner.”
Her blood froze. “What!?”
(1974: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot & Prongs)
“... And when Cattermole pissed himself, I thought that was the last of it!” Sirius Black’s voice rang with unbridled laughter.
“Padfoot, it wasn't funny then. It isn't funny now.” Remus Lupin, one of his closest friends, reprimanded him. Honestly, it was one thing to react the way the first time, even Remus himself hadn't been able to smother his laughter at Reginald Cattermole, a fellow Hufflepuff, who James Potter had frightened beyond belief a few days ago. Now, though, it was Christmas Break, and he really didn't need a reminder of his friends’ antics. For a while, he wanted to pretend they really were the best of people, marauder shenanigans aside.
James Potter looked plenty bashful, thankfully. “I really didn't expect it to go that far.”
“Note to the Marauders,” Peter Pettigrew, the fourth of the quartet of friends, stopped pulling his trunk and flourished his palms as if writing into his left one through his right one. “Do not appear from underneath the Invisibility Cloak when caked with white flour.”
Sirius hollered, as Remus caught a distinct sound of two snorts from the pair ahead of his friends. The boy, likely another fourth year, was shaking clearly trying to hold in his laughter. Remus wasn't troubled that he'd heard the bit about an Invisibility Cloak. Honestly, half the school was aware the Marauders had their ways of delivering the mischief that they did. No one could actually confiscate it, as the said Cloak was a bloody family heirloom. Although… “Wormy, what have we said about talking too loud?”
Peter looked up as he caught the handle of his trunk again. “It's not like anyone's eavesdropping. I'll be careful in the future.” He added as Remus lightly glared at his friend.
“Anywho,” James interrupted. “Are we still good for the Yule Ball at the Longbottoms?”
“I suppose.” Remus sighed. “I’ll be spending Boxing Day, well you know…”
“Yeah yeah.” Sirius waved it off. “So, you reckon Frank will be alright with what we have planned for the night?”
“It's not like I can ask permission to set off… well, you, in his house.” James grinned. “He'll forgive it though. He's a good sport that way.”
The boy walking in front of them stiffened for a moment, and Remus caught his scent. Remus stiffened, too. He focused his senses on James next, bewildered beyond belief. “James.”
At his tone, James stopped smiling altogether. “What is it?”
“Muffliato.” Damn, Severus’ spells were becoming quite handy these days. Thank goodness they were still on the platform and hadn't crossed the barrier into the muggle side yet. Peter and Sirius leaned in as James stepped into the privacy ward Remus created next. “Do you see that boy in front?”
“Messy black hair with the bushy girl?” Sirius asked.
“Yes. Padfoot, would you try and… sense him with your new form?” Remus wrinkled his nose in a hint.
“Well, sure. But what's this about?” Sirius turned to the boy who had stopped and was casually leaning by the wall a few feet from the barrier, the girl looking at her nails as they pretended to talk.
“Who is that?” Peter asked. “I've never seen him before.”
“He's not wearing any house colours. Strange.” James mused. “Even Shack keeps her scarf just in case people forget what she can do.”
Donna Shacklebolt, one of their Gryffindor Girls, was often confused as a Ravenclaw in their first year. If not for the fact that she was simply too brilliant at magic, that all her non-student robes and clothes were blue, her favourite colour. Bellatrix Black, Sirius' cousin and two years senior to the Marauders, had learned the hard way that Donna wasn't someone anyone should meddle with. Her elder brother had been training to be an Auror, and Donna had quickly silenced and stumped the Black witch with an advanced spell, thanks to her brother's cautious nature. She had since then never not shown her true house colours. It was a matter of pride really, these days with a Dark Lord steadily rising, to show your house colours, especially Gryffindor.
Sirius, who now understood Remus' predicament, whipped to his best friend. “Prongs, do you have any cousins visiting for break?”
“Not that I know of.” James shook his head and then really gave the boy a good look. “That is the Potter hair. Unless he wants it to look like Potter hair. But, honest to god, I do not know the boy.”
“He keeps looking over at us.” Peter stated the blatant fact.
“Why don't we find out why?” James shrugged and left the privacy ward before Remus could stop him. “Hey, you! Nice hair!”
The boy startled, clearly shocked that the bunch of students he had been staring at had addressed him at all. He opened his mouth and closed it. Twice. The girl gently squeezed his hand. Fear, shock, anticipation, warmth. It all hit Remus at once.
“Thanks.” The boy grinned brilliantly. “I'll pass it along to Agatha.”
“I take it you're not Agatha?” James turned to the girl.
“Hermione.” The girl smiled. “You must be James Potter.”
“My reputation precedes me!” James nodded at Sirius. “These are my mates. Sirius, Remus, and little Petey over there.”
“Prongs, you've officially lost your Christmas helper.” Peter smiled slyly.
“And a galleon.” Sirius smirked.
“Yeah yeah.” James was not bothered about the silly bet. “I don't reckon I've seen you both around.”
“We're just picking up my sister.” The girl smiled. “We don't go to Hogwarts.”
“Where do you go then?” Sirius asked. “Don't say Durmstrang. We'll never get to be friends.”
“You want to be friends?” The boy asked. “You literally just met us.”
“Mischief sees mischief, I suppose.” Sirius looked at the boy apprisingly.
The boy traded a look with Hermione. Trust, Remus identified. They already trusted them. How was that even possible? Who were these two?
“The name is Harry.” The boy smiled crookedly, a familiar smile Remus couldn't place where he knew from. “We don't go to school. We are both tutored privately.”
“But not your sister?” Remus turned to Hermione.
“Third cousin.” Hermione looked at him in a calculating manner, yet smiled. “This is a bit of a-”
“HERMIONE!” Someone shrieked from behind them. Remus' ears were sensitive, to say the least. He cupped them as a nearly identical form of Hermione jumped up from behind them, a trunk hitting the ground. “I can't believe this!”
“Third cousin, you say?” Peter whispered to James.
James and Harry rolled their eyes in perfect unison. Huh, Remus wondered how their mannerisms was so similar, their stance so similar as James crossed his hands to raise an eyebrow at the “cousins” hugging the life out of each other. At least the girls had near similar magical signatures, Remus sighed. Wait a minute…
His eyes locked on Harry, who raised an arm nonchalantly to wave at the girl.
Remus blinked, and then saw James open his mouth. “He's a good sport that way.” He felt a sense of Deja-vu. He shook his head. What were they talking about? Right, yes, Yule Ball at the Longbottom House.
“Sirius!” The voice of the younger Black brother cut through their conversation. “Kreacher is here.”
“And that's my cue.” Sirius’ eyes turned sober, all mischief gone. “See you at the Ball, folks!”
“See you, Padfoot!” Peter called as both the Black brothers apparted away soon after.
“To the Floo, then?” James shrugged.
They three friends headed to cross the barrier, as Remus felt more than ever how strongly magical signatures lingered long after people hadl eft.