Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Severus shifted awkwardly as he walked into Diagon Alley with Lily. He didn’t really want to be out shopping as it only reminded him that he didn’t have money for the same kind of frivolities as his only friend. This was made even more clear when the entire purpose of the trip was for her to buy a magical watch with her parents’ permission when she had complained about how her muggle watch malfunctioned at school. How Lily had convinced them he had no idea since watches were given to young witches and wizards when they turned of age, but he understood from their perspective -- he could hardly imagine denying Lily anything.

Which is exactly how he found himself walking into Prewett Bros. Charming Clockwork, despite it being the warmest summer since 1947. The redhead had none of her reservations, as she scurried up to one of the cases with a squeal. “Look Sev! This one has all the moon phases and planetary shifts as well as time!”

“You’re just cross that Barty’s ickle girlfriend broke your record from first year.” Severus teased despite himself.

“I am not!” Lily shot back, hands on her hips. “I just think it’d be handy to have a reference.”

“I find an arithmantic timer to be more useful, myself.” Another voice put in, interrupting the conversation smoothly. “Especially for higher potions levels.”

Severus glanced up in surprise at the strange voice, berating himself. As usual, he was so focused on Lily he hadn’t thought about his surroundings. This time, however, there were no Marauders with wands out to make his life miserable, just a girl with a mess of brown curls behind the counter. He was about to sneer and say something cutting about people who couldn’t do the timing in their heads, but Lily cut him off, turning to the girl at the counter with a smile.

“That sounds brilliant!” Lily said excitedly. “I can never compete with Sev in Potions…” She gestured to the greasy-haired boy with a gesture of her hand. “He can do all those calculations in his head. Maybe I could actually keep up with him something like that!”

“Aren’t you a little young to be working here?” Severus asked as coolly as he could, since he could hardly insult Lily after what she had said about the timer being useful. He was shocked when the girl didn’t take offense or recoil from him. Everyone recoiled when he spoke to them like the idiots they were.

The girl didn’t even blink, she just smiled at him as if she found him amusing. People didn’t smile at him. “I’m just working in the shop for pocket money over the summer before I go to Hogwarts for the first time.” She paused awkwardly, a strange expression crossing her face. “My...parents...thought it might be a good way for me to meet people my own age here, but you two are the first people I’ve met under thirty in the shop.”

Severus arched an eyebrow in suspicion and moved up to the counter, leaning on the glass gingerly, next to Lily, whose green eyes were sparkling at the stranger. “Hogwarts hasn’t had transfers since the fall of Grindelwald.”

“I know.” The girl smiled with perfectly straight white teeth back at him. “Mum had to go rounds with Headmaster Dumbledore to get me in, after my great-grandparents died.”

“Wow!” Lily said, practically bouncing on her toes. “Where did you go to school before? Beauxbatons?” She blushed then, and frowned. “I’ve been rude. “I’m Lily Evans and this is Severus Snape, we’ll be fifth years at Hogwarts this year. What’s your name?”

“I’m...Persephone. Persephone Meadowes-Prewett.” The girl replied, shaking Lily’s hand. “I’ll be going into fifth year too, I’m nervous, I’ve heard it’s very different from Kakistos Academy, where I went in Greece.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll love it!” Lily said, excitedly. “Sev and I will make sure to take care of you and teach you all the tricks to get around and who to avoid, won’t we, Sev?”

“Not that it’s hard.” Severus sneered. “Potter and his band of misfit Gryffindors make themselves exceedingly obvious.”

“Avery and his gang of Slytherins aren’t any better.” Lily replied, distracted by a watch in the case, which had clicked the hour and turned a small hourglass held in golden filagree. “Oh, look at this one, Sev!”

“I suppose it is as feminine as you’ll find, Lily.” Severus remarked, not rising to the bait. Avery and his gang had stopped bothering him long ago, whereas Potter was eternally a thorn in his side. Still, he studied the girl in suspicion. There was something about her, as though the earth had moved and not come back together properly, all jagged edges. He couldn’t say what, as she chatted with Lily and wrapped up the watch, but there was something off about her.

He scowled slightly, unwilling to push it for fear of Lily telling him that he needed to be friendlier, and fell into silence. Still, he couldn’t help a parting question as he followed the redhead out of the shop toward Florean Fortescue’s. “Where did you live in Greece, Persephone?”

The girl’s face changed, shifting from a smile to a forlorn, lost look Severus had seen on Eileen Snape’s face more than once. A look that suggested bone-deep loss, as if she could never go home again. “Hermione.” She said softly, and he almost felt guilty for asking. He nodded slowly, and left following after a chattering Lily.

Chapter Text

We should have trusted Professor Snape. We shouldn’t have come. He could have checked and told us it was a trick. Then this wouldn’t be happening.

That was the last thought that fluttered through Hermione’s mind as the hex the Death Eater threw at her pushed her into a shelf full of time turners. She wasn’t sure if her vision went fuzzy from the glittering dust of a hundred broken hourglasses or from her head hitting the hard floor, but before she could decide, everything went black.

When she opened her eyes again, she found herself looking into caring brown eyes for just a moment before pain wracked her and she found herself curling up and whimpering in pain.

The eyes widened and before she drifted back into unconsciousness she felt a hand smoothing her hair and a woman’s voice murmuring soft platitudes she could not quite grasp in her exhausted, pain-stricken mind, but the sounds were soothing nonetheless. The darkness was cool and she found herself slipping back into it.

She woke up sweating, eyes blurry and having trouble focusing. There were people in the room, and she felt safe, but it was too bright to be the hospital wing.

“ ...should have a choice , love.” A male voice that sounded familiar and yet..said, strongly.

“ Look how sick she is! ” The voice she remembered comforting her shot back. “ If we don’t do it, she could… ”

“ She’s awake! ” A third yelled, almost identical to the male voice. If they hadn’t come from different areas of the room, she would have thought they were the same.

Hermione winced, or it felt like she did. Bright ginger hair topped a head, but it was blurry and she couldn’t make it out. The voice, however, gave her a hint. “Don’ yell, George.” She muttered, throat dry, as she shivered. “Or...you...Fred?” She said, tongue feeling swollen, and talking was difficult.

“Sorry, sweetheart, neither.” The ginger who had yelled, said contritely. “You can call me Gid.”

“Mmmkay.” Hermione agreed, trying to figure out why that sounded vaguely familiar.

A cool hand brushed over her forehead, and the  woman spoke. “Hermione, I need you to listen to me, okay?”

“Kay.” Hermione agreed, trying hard to focus. Everything was muzzy, and her chest hurt worse the longer she was awake.

“You’ve fallen back in time.” The woman said softly. “You ingested some of the sand from the time turners, and it’s destabilised your magical core, and because you fell so far back, your core has nothing to draw on, no connections, your parents aren’t even married.”

Hermione’s brain was slow, but even slowed from fever and sickness, she could put two and two together. She wiped her eyes, startling slightly as a glass was pressed to her lips. “Drink.” The first male voice said quietly. Obediently she took a few sips of what tasted like the purest water she had ever tasted and it soothed her throat. “I’m going to die.” She said, steadying herself in the resignation of her fate.

“No.” The woman said, fiercely. “There is a way. There’s a potion that if you drink it, will change your magical core. It is usually for adoptions...your core would recognise us as your bloodline as...as your parents, and be able to stabilise itself from drawing on them.”

Hermione tried to focus, thinking of her parents, whom she would never see again. She knew better than anyone that time travel forward was not possible, not in her time, and certainly not back in whatever time this was. “When am I?” She asked, as a searing pain went through her system. “How do you know my name?” At least, that’s what she tried to say, but the words came out stilted and slurred. “Who are you?” Terrible things happened to wizards who meddled with time, she knew that, and she didn’t know if she could stand back and watch it all happen. It would drive her mad. “Why is everything blurry?”

The woman lowered the light in the room slightly, and whispered an incantation, and touched a wand to Hermione’s sweaty forehead. “Better?”

Distracted, Hermione nodded. She studied the three people in the room, as much as she could with the chills and pain running through her. The men remind her of Charlie, ginger, broad-shouldered and well-muscled, but their smiles were the twins all over, hazel eyes sparkling. Fitting, since they were obviously twins. The woman was trying to smile, but worry creased her forehead. Hermione used to wish that her could have been like this woman’s if it had to be curly, an easily controlled ponytail of ringlets, and light olive skin. “Who are you?”

The woman smiled slightly. “My name’s Dorcas Meadowes, and these two are Fabian and Gideon.”

“Molly’s brothers.”Hermione slurred slightly. “You’re all First Order.”

“I’m also an Unspeakable.” Dorcas said with a laugh. “I found you in the Time Room and brought you here after a bit of Legilimency. If anyone knew how far you’d come, or what happened...you’d never make it out of the Dark Cells.”

Hermione didn’t know what that meant, but it sent a shiver down her spine nonetheless. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead, a kind of shriek came out instead as she felt something run through her, like it was ripping muscle and sinew, and shredding her from the inside out.

Instantly, there were comforting hands on her shoulders as she struggled, almost seizing through the pain. “Breathe, Hermione.” Dorcas said firmly, commanding. “Accept it and push past it. Fighting it will make it worse.”

Acceding to the pain was not in Hermione’s nature, she was a Gryffindor after all, and she had learnt the need to fight as much as her innate courage in her House, but she gave in because cold hard logic, always her helpmeet in times of trouble, told her that this woman was trying to help her. Slowly, the pain waned and she fell back, feeling as though she should be bleeding.

One of the twins flicked his wand, and studied the numbers that floated into the air. “The degradation is getting worse. The curse she was hit with is attacking her and every time she tries to resist it…”

“ Yes , thank you, Fabian!” Dorcas snapped, her voice softening as she turned back to Hermione. “Please let us save you, paidi mou . I know...I know you have parents who love you, but please…”

Hermione was struck by how upset the Unspeakable was, and nodded slowly. She wouldn’t have wanted to die anyway, even if she was so far away from Ron and Harry and her family, but this woman really seemed to care . It made her feel slightly better about being trapped in the past, where she would have to watch horrible things happen, and she really wasn’t suicidal, for all that the pain made her think oblivion might be better. “Okay.” She said, swallowing hard. “I’ll do it.”

“Brilliant! I knew she was a smart one!” Gideon enthused, grabbing a stoppered potion off the table. He approached the bed, allowing Dorcas to walk over to Fabian, who put his arms around her. “It doesn’t smell very good, but the best ones never do.” Gideon murmured, holding the phial to her lips. “Drink, Hermione.”

Hermione drank. The potion was coppery and spicy, as if it was burning her tongue, even though the liquid wasn’t hot. She swallowed and fell back into nothingness.

Chapter Text

When Hermione woke again, she was still in pain, but at least she was able to focus and think again. She peered around the room as she struggled to sit up. The room still held an air of disuse in the air, like a spare room when people never had visitors. It was a nice room, with grey-violet walls and cream-coloured carpet, and the bed was very comfortable, but it also made her ache for her room at home.

She tried to banish that thought, shaking her head viciously. She couldn’t let herself think of that. She was alive, and in the bowels of the Ministry, she certainly hadn’t thought she’d find her way out. Still, it was almost as if she was dead, with no one around who cared about her.

The door to the room opened and she had to amend that, because the relief on Dorcas Meadowes face was palpable when she saw Hermione conscious and sitting up. “You’re awake!” The witch said in relief, running a hand through her curls. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by the Knight Bus.” Hermione replied, wincing at the twinge in her chest. “Sorry for all this.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Dorcas said, reaching into a satchel and producing a several vials of potions. “I know you didn’t mean to be here, but we...Gid and Fab and I are glad to have you here.”

“I can’t say I’m glad to be here, but I am glad that if I had to be in this time, you found me.” Hermione said, making a face as she was handed the potions. “What are these for?”

“That was a very nasty curse you took.” Dorcas said, smoothing out the comforter, with fluttering hands. “You’re still recovering. If it hadn’t been for you coming here, I don’t know if you would have survived.”

Hermione sighed and started downing the potions obediently. It was better than the last one, the one that had made her someone else, but at least she could still feel her magic and wasn’t dying. “So you’re just going to tell everyone you adopted a fifteen-year-old out of nowhere?”

Dorcas clucked her tongue. “That wouldn’t work, it would be far too suspicious, especially to Dumbledore.” At Hermione’s surprised look, Dorcas held up a hand. “Don't get me wrong, he’s on the side of the light, and an efficient leader, but he’s pragmatic as well. He also believes what raggedy old men in the time room theorise, that time cannot be changed.”

“But terrible things happen to those who meddle with time!” Hermione gasped in amazement.

“If that were true, all seers would be quite mad, and divination would be classified as Dark Arts, not taught at Hogwarts. If you can't change what you divine, why bother?” Dorcas pointed out. “You've changed things yourself, I saw it. You were thinking of saving the hippogriff and Sirius when you fell through.”

“But that was always going to happen!” Hermione said, eyes wide, and then paused. “Wasn’t it?”

“Some people see time as something that can be easily broken and diverted, a pane of stained glass, touch it and you’re bound to cut yourself on the edges not quite melded together.” Dorcas explained, shaking her head. “Divination is dismissed because of this, the idea that if you can know, you’d be bleeding.”

“Cassandra, never believed.” Hermione said thoughtfully. “But some people are just frauds!” She thought of Trelawney and shook her head.

“There are always frauds.” Dorcas agreed, shaking her head. “And whether you like it or not, you’ve already changed things.” She smoothed Hermione’s curls with a hand, and like before, it comforted the younger witch. “You don’t know everything, you can’t know everything, but you can try to make things better.”

“What if I make it worse?” Hermione asked, shaking her head. “I’m just a...a know-it-all, regurgitating books and trying to keep Harry and Ron from killing themselves. I can’t rewrite history!”

“Who better?” Dorcas asked. “Dumbledore wouldn’t risk it, all for the Greater Good . Your friends, maybe?”

Hermione was about to answer the affirmative, but then she imagined Ron and Harry thrust back in time and blabbing the truth everywhere, or losing their cool and trying to kill Pettigrew in some horribly messy way that would get them locked up in St. Mungo’s right next to Lockhart. “No.” She relented. “So, if not randomly adopting me, what?”

One of the Prewett twins stuck his head into the room, and swaggered over, putting an arm around Hermione. “Oh, sweetling, that you are really and truly ours.” He winked at her. “Just be glad that Dorcas kept you from getting red hair.”

“What?” Hermione repeated, surprised. “But everyone...Molly...she’d know you didn’t have a child fifteen years ago!”

Dorcas laughed. “Well, as much as it will make Molly hate me even more,” she said with a shake of her head. “Gid’s right, we’re going to say that I got pregnant right before graduation, and my parents, ashamed to have a daughter pregnant out of wedlock, whisked me away to Greece, and gave you to my grandparents to raise, binding me from telling anyone.”

“And now that they are dead, the spells have released, and we were able to bring you home and be a family.” Gideon finished.

“And maybe Molly will stop throwing bints at you and Fab and suggesting you should find nice girls and get married.” Dorcas grumbled.

“Not one for a nice girl, me.” Gideon said with a laugh. “But what do you think, poppet?”

Hermione considered all of this for a long moment. She had loved her parents, her real parents, for all that they hadn’t quite known how to handle a magical child. It felt like a sort of betrayal to claim that other people were her parents...but her parents weren’t just at home in London, they weren’t even married, let alone had given birth to a tiny witch. The magical world, her world, had made them uncomfortable, she couldn’t just show up saying she was their daughter from the future. She was nothing to them. She was nothing to Dorcas, Gideon and Fabian either, but it seemed as though they wanted her. It was a rare feeling, to Hermione.  Oh, she knew she was always welcome at the Weasleys (except for fourth year, when Mrs. Weasley thought her some sort of tart) but that was mostly because she, Ron and Harry had always been a package deal. No one ever wanted Hermione for Hermione. She was just the brains of the trio. “Okay.” She said finally, not sure whether her smile was forced or not as Dorcas reached over and hugged her tightly.

In the next two days, Hermione learned a lot without moving hardly at all. The four of them had worked out the entirety of her new identity, and manipulated Ministry records to show what they wanted. She had officially become Persephone Hermione Meadowes-Prewett, and fudged the dates slightly, so that she could repeat her fifth year and retake her O.W.L.s. Those exams were too important to her future not to have documented results. It was strange to have a new name, but she had been afraid that people she knew, including her professors might remember Hermione Meadowes-Prewett when Hermione Granger was a child. Dorcas had chosen Persephone with a smile and a laugh. 

More than that, however, she had gotten to know her new...family. She wasn’t sure that they felt like family yet, but they were definitely a lifeline in this place. Fabian and Gideon were both smiling, laughing men who loved to tell stories of their exploits, both in Hogwarts and for the Order. Dorcas was quick-witted and bitingly sarcastic, but also immensely gentle and with a large heart. When she had demanded to teach Hermione Occlumency, Hermione had dreaded it, remembering Harry’s stories, but Dorcas, while thorough, was slow and talked her through it well. It was a challenge, and Hermione loved a challenge. She knew it would take far more than a few weeks to master it, but right now they were focused on making her identity passable for any who might brush her mind, not create an impenetrable fortress against Lord Voldemort.

Greek had been the other challenge Hermione had set out to learn. She could just use a subtle translation spell, and had one woven around her in case anyone should speak to her in Greek to test her, but Hermione would rather rely on her own mind instead of charms. She had studied Greek a very little bit, when trying to dissect magical theory, as she had with Latin, but it was a complicated language and etymology was not speaking it. That was why, when the yelling started, she was working on a child’s Greek workbook, sounding things out under her breath.

 “I DON’T BELIEVE IT” A very familiar voice shouted, making Hermione look up. Apparently they had broken the news to Molly. Hermione quickly stuck the workbook under her mattress, just in case.

“I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!”

Hermione winced at that, she had spent enough time at The Burrow to know exactly the expression on Molly Weasley’s face when she was that angry. She felt a little bad about it, and strained her ears, trying to hear the reply. She hadn’t quite managed.

“AND YOU’RE JUST...JUST ACCEPTING SOME...SOME SCARLET WOMAN PASSING…”

She didn’t need to strain to hear the response to that, something slammed against something else as Gideon roared, “ ENOUGH! ” She could tell it was Gideon because his voice was just a touch lower than Fabian’s, something she hadn’t bother informing them of, no matter how they wanted to know how she had learned little things to tell them apart.

Fabian had undoubtedly picked up from his brother, sounding only slightly calmer, but obviously closer to her door, since she could hear him clearly without quite the yelling that his siblings had been doing. “Molly, I know this is a shock to you, it was a shock for us too. We brought you here to share our happiness, and so you can meet Persephone, but if you’re going to insist on behaving like this, you can go right back home to Arthur.”

Hermione didn’t want to break up a family. She had already lost hers, and as much as she was enjoying this new one, Molly had more right to it than she did. She struggled to her feet, out of breath, blue nightdress tripping her up slightly as she struggled to the door. She had been able to make it back and forth to her little bathroom attached to the bedroom, but the door to the rest of the flat was proving a bigger challenge. Her forehead was thick with sweat, and her chest was aching with every breath, until she finally made it, and turned the knob.

Fabian was standing between her door and the living room, where Molly was bright red, near the door, Gideon was almost the same shade, and standing by the picnic table, where Dorcas was trying to put tea together with shaking hands. Hermione would have said that she was nervous, if not for the fact she could tell that the other witch was clenching her teeth.

“Don’t...fight.” Hermione managed, feeling as though she had a bludger trying to explode out of her chest. Pushing herself had obviously not been a good idea. She wobbled as everyone turned to look at her. “I...can...go…” And then everything went black.

Fabian, luckily, had been close, and already reaching out to stabilise the injured girl, so he was able to catch her before she could hit the ground. “Oof.” He said, shaking his head, as he swung the unconscious girl into her arms. “No you don’t, poppet.” Fabian looked at everyone else in the room. “I’m going to put her back to bed and check her vitals, will you lot please come to terms with this?”

Molly watched her brother go, and then turned to Gideon, voice suddenly much softer. She was a mother, and someone with a very large heart. “Why is she so weak?” She asked her brother, refusing to look at Dorcas, both because she didn’t like her, and because she was feeling a smidge of shame.

“You know how things are now, Molly.” Gideon said with a sigh. “Persephone travelled muggle for some of the journey, due to getting the whole mess with the Ministry worked out, and when she arrived in a wizarding part of London, she was attacked by dark wizards unknown, probably because of the muggle clothes.” He shook his head as he spun the lie. “She’s still recovering.”

“Oh, the poor dear!” Molly cried, all of her earlier anger dissipating. “I’ll be sure to make up some soup and send Arthur over later.”

Dorcas managed through force of will alone to keep from hissing at the implication that she couldn’t feed her family. Fabian and Gideon would say she meant nothing by it, and the last thing she wanted was to start another row. “Soup is unnecessary, Molly, but I’m sure she’d like to get to know her aunt, uncle and cousins when she’s a bit stronger.”

After her first disastrous meeting with Molly in this time, including blacking out embarrassingly and then having to spend an extra two days on bedrest, Hermione was still glad to have Mrs. Weasley in her life, and to meet Bill and Charlie again, even if they were adorable five and three year-olds. She tried not to be too pleased when they visited, because of the sniping that always occurred between Dorcas and Molly. She found herself often wanting to defend her new mother, even as much as she had loved Molly in nineteen-ninety-six.

“I was thinking we’d go get you a new wand on Thursday.” Dorcas said lightly, as Hermione was now sitting up in the living room, playing blocks with Charlie and Bill. “And then maybe next week, we’ll go to Hogwarts and speak to Headmaster Dumbledore.”

“You think I’m strong enough to go to Diagon Alley?” Hermione asked, a little doubtfully. She was up and moving around the flat easily enough now, and the pain from the curse was almost gone, save for some tremors in the night, but Diagon Alley was full of loud, bustling people even on the best of days.

“Well, I don’t think we’ll be doing a shopping extravaganza, but I think you’re strong enough to go downstairs and walk a few doors down to Ollivander’s.” Dorcas said dryly.

“If Persephone doesn’t feel ready, Dorcas…” Molly said, starting to scold, from where she stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

“No, no, I do!” Hermione quickly interrupted. She felt a bit foolish for not realising that she was somehow living in Diagon Alley. In her defence, she had never heard a clamour from downstairs, and when she had heard the twins talking about ‘the shop,’ she had thought that they meant the workshop that they discussed so often. She had made them promise to show her all the work that went into constructing magical timepieces after they had added a hand for Charlie to Molly’s clock and returned it to her. Funny that she had never wondered before where Molly had gotten the clock that had always had pride of place in The Burrow. She blushed slightly as Molly looked at her. “Mana’s just been so concerned about me overdoing it.”

“Well,” Molly said, forcing a smile. “As she should!”

 “Ready to go, poppet?” Fabian asked, as he watched Hermione look around at the clocks in the shop.

“Yes.” Hermione replied, pulling herself from a fascinating timepiece covered in advanced runes and alchemical symbols. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” Fabian replied with a laugh. “If you like, you could take a shift or two in the shop for pocket money when you’re at full strength and look around all you like!”

“I’d like that.” Hermione replied quietly. She had always wanted to help her parents’ at their practise, but they hadn’t trusted her with the paperwork and filing necessary for the front desk.

Fabian gave her a lopsided grin, and gallantly offered her his arm. It made Hermione laugh, and he led her to Ollivander’s, which was unsurprisingly fairly quiet, given the fact that it was summer, and the Hogwarts letters had not yet gone out.

“Garrick!” Fabian called out as they entered. “You about old man?”

Hermione looked at Fabian in surprise, distracted from studying the shop, which had not changed much from the first time she had been here. Before she could ask him about it, though, Ollivander appeared from the back of his shop.

“Ah, Mr. Prewett, what can I do for you today?” The wandmaker asked.

Fabian released Hermione’s hand and gestured to her. “Garrick, meet my daughter Persephone.” He said with a smile. “Persephone, this is Garrick Ollivander, best wandmaker in Europe, and possibly the world.”

Hermione shifted slightly as Ollivander studied her, in the same intense way that he had when she was eleven. Something about his eyes made her focus on occluding when he was looking at her like that. “Hello, sir.”

“Since when do you have a daughter, Mr. Prewett?” Ollivander queried. “She’s quite old for her first wand, isn’t she?”

“Just found out after Cassie’s parents bit it, evil sods.” Fabian said, cheerfully enough. “They used a bastard cloaking curse, so Cas couldn’t tell us.”

“And I lost my wand on the way here from Greece.” Hermione put in, trying to smile. “Grapewood and dragon heartstring, 10 and ¾ inches.”

“I see, I see.” Ollivander said, thoughtfully. “Well, let’s see here. Which is your wand hand?” Hermione held out her right hand easily, and smiled as Ollivander measured her and then told him all about their wands, and how they were much less temperamental than the ones produced by Chloros in Greece.

He offered her a vinewood wand first, similar to the one she had always used, unicorn hair instead of heartstring, and Hermione ran her fingers over the familiar vine carvings. She quickly spun her wand to conjure her usual bluebell flames, but rather than forming a ball she could carry, the flames dashed emerged from the tip, and sputtered out immediately.

“No, no that won’t do at all.” Garrick complained and brought forth another. Hornbeam and phoenix feather was too explosive, blackthorn and unicorn hair resisted her magic, Laurel and dragon heartstring was too delicate, she had almost destroyed it with a simple levitation, around and around it went, until he handed her one of yew and dragon heartstring. It tingled in her fingers, but even as she touched it, Hermione knew something was off. “Close…” She hummed thoughtfully. “ Almost. ”

“Indeed?” Garrick Ollivander asked, surprised at how aware she seemed. “Interesting, very interesting...Gideon was just as difficult, you know.”

“I was terribly simple.” Fabian admitted, touching his oak wand to his temple. “First wand I tried.”

Ollivander emerged again, with a pale-coloured wand, and handed it to her gently. “Try this.”

Hermione took the wand, and a smile came to her face as tingling warmth went up her arm. “Yes.” She hummed thoughtfully, conjuring her bluebell flames with ease, and laughing a little as the magic came easily and gracefully from the wand.

“Silver lime and dragon heartstring, 11 ½ inches, fairly flexible.” Garrick explained, wrapping up the box easily. “Not as surprising for someone of your ancestry, certainly. You must have a very interesting mind, Miss Prewett.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ollivander.” Hermione replied, gracing him with a smile. “I hope to see you again.”

“I’m sure you will, my dear, I’m sure you will.” Ollivander replied.

Chapter Text

Dorcas was baking baklava when she broached the topic of Hermione’s return to Hogwarts. “I’m sure you can pass Dumbledore’s inspection at this point.” She said, waving with a hand before squeaking and pulling out her wand to levitate the dish that threatened to topple out of her one-handed, oven-mitted grip.

Hermione had to laugh, even though the subject worried her. She wanted to trust Dumbledore with the truth, but like Dorcas, she didn’t think she could step back and just watch everything happen, no matter what the venerable wizard said. She believed in Dumbledore, she believed he had a reason for everything he did, but if he had just told them about the prophecy, that only Harry could have gotten it, she would have never let Harry go unless he went through her first. He would have done, of course, but she would have tried to stop it. Just like she had to try and stop everything else.

“Do you think he’ll let me transfer? Hogwarts, A History says that Hogwarts hasn’t had transfer students since Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald.”

“I’m sure he’ll let you transfer when it’s three respected Order of the Phoenix members asking and willing to bargain.”He can’t alienate your dads and I without alienating Molly and Arthur, and he won’t want that. It’s too important to him to show upstanding purebloods on his side.” Dorcas explained, shaking her head. “That purebloods like us can accept muggleborns and change without losing our traditions.” She nervously set the dessert aside, and began fiddling with mixing bowls. “I want you to consider something though, paidi mou, and I don’t want you to take offence.”

“Okay…” Hermione said slowly, wondering what was about to be asked. She had certainly never been offended by anything Dorcas had said thus far.

Dorcas let out a long breath. “You’re very much a Gryffindor, love, and it works well for you. However, in Gryffindor, you’ll have to either sit back and watch with a front seat, or somehow infiltrate what you know will happen, and even if you are changing things, that might be hard.”

“I was almost a Ravenclaw.” Hermione said thoughtfully. Something inside her did rebel at the idea of leaving Gryffindor House, her House, but Gryffindor was her home because of Harry and Ron more than anything else, and she wouldn’t have them. She might be able to make friends with Remus, but...she still didn’t know how she felt about Sirius. Perhaps his judgement wasn’t as flawed in nineteen-seventy-five? Azkaban did do horrible things, after all. “Maybe I could go there.”

“You could.” Dorcas observed. “Or you could...go into Slytherin.”

“Slytherin?!” Hermione gasped. “I’m...I’m a muggleborn, they’d eat me alive!”

“As far as anyone will know, as far as your magic is concerned, you’re the pureblood daughter of two long pureblood lines.” Dorcas corrected.

Hermione frowned. Being a muggleborn had not been a pleasant experience, but it had made up a very large part of her identity, of who she was, she couldn’t imagine throwing that away, even if it wasn’t quite as true anymore. “I’m not ruthless or cunning.”

“Really?” Dorcas drawled, cracking eggs. “Who was it that lied to her professors about a troll?”

“Me, but that was because Harry and Ron had saved me, I owed them!” Hermione protested.

“And who set a professor on fire?”

“I thought he was jinxing Harry!”

“Who as a second year decided to make a N.E.W.T. level potion in a girl’s lavatory?”

“To figure out what the monster in the Chamber was!”

“Still a very ambitious potion. And who manipulated a professor into signing a pass for a book in the Restricted Section?”

“He wasn’t a very good teacher.”

“And stole ingredients from another teacher?”

“I couldn’t get them any other way!”

“And drugged two other students to pass off the plan?”

“Technically, I just laid the bait.”

“And took every class possible in the curriculum, all while doing far too much time-twisting to study and create a Ministry-level legal defence for a hippogriff?”

“I like to keep my options open, and that was Malfoy's fault.”

“And blackmailing a reporter?”

“She was writing lies about me!”

“Convincing your friend to start an illegal club?”

“We weren’t learning anything from Umbridge!”

“And leading her into the forest, then leaving her with the centaurs?”

“I…” Hermione trailed off, looking back at Dorcas with wide eyes. She had been going to say something about needing to save Sirius, but then she remembered her thought just before she fell through time, that they shouldn’t have come, that they should have trusted Professor Snape. Hearing so much of her Hogwarts career parroted back to her as questions shook her slightly. “I’m a horrible person.”

“Oh, paidi mou, no!” Dorcas said, horrified, dropping her wand in the whisking eggs to turn and hug Hermione hard. “No, you’re not a horrible person. Life is lived in shades of grey, sweetheart. I wasn’t judging you in any way. I was only trying to make you realise your own cunning and ambition.”

“Why?” Hermione asked.

Dorcas smiled, and smoothed Hermione’s curls with her hand, wiping tears away. “Sometimes we need a mirror held up so that we can see ourselves clearly.” Dorcas said slowly. “And so that you might understand that not all decisions are black and white.” She bit her lip. “I also had a bit of an ulterior motive, I admit. No one on the You-Know-Who’s side will talk politics with me, because everyone knows I’d never betray Fab and Gid. Albus’s Order lacks anyone who can tell them what’s happening inside Slytherin. If you can...accept that possibility, you could relay who seems convinced and who is on the fence.” She paused and clicked her tongue. “As well as encourage those who might not know that they can still be proud Slytherins and not follow You-Know-Who.”

Hermione considered this, and pulled away from her foster mother. “I’ll have to think about it, Mana.” She said, after a moment, retreating into the calm of logic. “What are we making now?”

“Ice cream!” Dorcas said with a laugh. “I’m not Florean Fortescue, but Gid won’t eat baklava unless it’s smothered in ice cream, contrary man.”

“Sounds like fun.” Hermione said, forcing a smile. She had a lot to think about.

 It was only a few days later she found herself in Albus Dumbledore’s office, sitting next to Dorcas in the usual chairs in the office, while Fabian and Gideon had conjured up armchairs identical to the ones scattered around the Gryffindor Common Room.

“I must say this is a surprise.” Dumbledore said, looking over the assembled group. “I can’t understand how this happened.”

“Well, you see Albus…” Fabian started.

“When a wizard and a witch and a wizard…” Gideon continued.

“Love each other very much…”

“And have a bit too much firewhiskey after a particularly hard Quidditch practise…”

“Baba!” Hermione said, in affronted horror. She really didn’t need to hear details about this, even joking ones.

“Sorry, love.” The twins said in unison, looking not sorry at all.

Dorcas coughed in amusement. “To be honest, Headmaster, I’m still not entirely sure how it happened. I must have missed a potion or been late a day late taking it. I didn’t even realise I was pregnant. I was at home with mitera, getting a gown fitted, and next thing I know she’s doing a spell and crying and cursing me…and telling me I'm sixteen weeks pregnant.” She stopped, and took a shuddering breath, looking away.

Albus reached out and patted the woman on the hand. “You could have come to me, Dorcas.”

“That would have required me to be able to get away.” Dorcas disagreed. She took a deep breath, shaking her head. “We’ve lost so much time, Albus. I couldn’t even tell them about her until now!”

“What can I do to help you, Dorcas?” Albus asked, palms up, a sad expression on his face. “I cannot give you the years back.”

“But you can help us now.” Gideon said, reaching out and grabbing a jelly slug from the candy dish. “You know how dark Kakistos is, Albus, and now that we’ve brought her home, we can’t send her back to that. You-Know-Who is recruiting internationally, and Kakistos and Durmstrang are two places he’ll look.”

Dumbledore frowned, and looked at the girl in his office. She was obviously nervous, but had been fairly quiet, aside from interrupting the Prewetts and their version of her conception. She was a plain girl, with wild hair, but a nice enough smile. He stroked his beard in thought. “Hogwarts hasn’t had transfers since before you were born, Gideon.”

“This isn’t exactly a normal situation, Albus.” Fabian argued. “Surely we can come to some sort of an agreement.”

“Is this what you want, Miss...Prewett?”

“Meadowes-Prewett.” Hermione corrected, trying her hardest to keep the swot out of her voice, which was generally easier with an authority figure. “It’s all very new, sir...being wanted.” She admitted. “And I like Britain, even if it is cool and rainy. Please let me stay? I’ll be a good student, I’ll keep up with all my studies, I promise.”

“Well…” Albus said slowly. “I do have a few staff openings, which would make your daughter’s transfer draw less attention than it would otherwise.”

Dorcas barely resisted the urge to narrow her eyes. “I don’t fancy being the next victim of the curse, Albus.”

“Oh no, my dear.” Albus said dismissively. “I wouldn’t waste your talent on Defence. I want you to teach Divination.”

The room fell silent, as everyone turned to look at Dorcas. “Divination.” She repeated. “You want me to teach Divination.”

“I can’t think of anyone better suited.” Albus replied, eyes twinkling. “You bring your methodical, strategic mind to what is a woolly, and imprecise subject.”

Dorcas pursed her lips. She knew Dumbledore had backed her into a corner, and while she did trust him, at least with the idea that he was working for the greater good, she didn’t like being backed into a corner. “Oh, very well. I’ll tender my leave in the Department of Mysteries.”

“Very good.” Albus said with a sage nod. “And I do need a Defence professor…”

Fabian and Gideon looked at each other, and quickly began a game of wand, cloak, stone that went three rounds, before Fabian announced: “I’ll do it.”

Albus clapped his hands. “Wonderful! There seems only one more thing to do, aside from your transcripts, which I’m sure you have…”

Gideon produced them from his pocket with a flourish.

“And that is to sort you into a House, Ms. Meadowes-Prewett. Hogwarts has four houses, which represent the four founders of the school. Gryffindor-- your fathers’ House --is for the noble, brave, and chivalrous, Hufflepuff for the loyal, hard-working and fair-minded, Ravenclaw is for those of wit, and cleverness, and finally, your mother’s House: Slytherin is for those of cunning and ambition.”

Hermione swallowed nervously, unable to help the waver in her voice. She had been going back and forth over what Dorcas had said in the kitchen a few days ago, making a decision and then changing her mind only moments later. “Ho...how do I do that, sir?”

“Nothing taxing.” Albus said, reassuringly. “You simply put on the Sorting Hat.” He reached over to the shelf, where the weathered old hat of Godric himself sat, and Hermione got to her feet, moving to the side of the desk. She vividly remembered her first Sorting, hoping for Gryffindor, willing to settle for Ravenclaw and scared out of her mind she would be sent home and told that it was all a mistake, that she wasn’t a witch after all. This was no less unnerving.

The hat fell onto her head.

Chapter Text

Well… The Sorting Hat crooned in her mind. You’re quite early...and you’ve done this before! How intriguing.

Hermione bit her lip taking a deep breath. I don’t know what I want.

The hat chuckled to her errant thought. You were a hatstall once, I see...but you’ve grown and could fit almost anywhere now, my dear. Gryffindor would be the road of least resistance, but it comes with such drawbacks, doesn’t it? Having to be close to them, longing for your own life…

Yes. Hermione answered. She didn’t know how she could look at James Potter every day and not confuse him with Harry. It was such a risk. And I don’t have the patience for Hufflepuff.

Or the humility. The hat agreed. There is Ravenclaw, of course. I told you last time that your mind would be a prize there. You’d be away from all of them, watching from a distance.

Hermione bit her lip.  Could. She agreed. But it would be so much harder to be involved.

There is your mother’s option. The hat reminded her. Could you stand it, after five years against them?

I don’t know. Hermione confessed. Harry and Ron would probably hate me afterwards...but I need to make things better. Could Slytherin do that?

Slytherin could do a great many things.  The hat hummed. It could take you to high heights and to the very pits. If you choose this path, it will likely do both.

But will things change?

The hat chuckled. Things already have.

 Dorcas smirked and held a hand out on either side of her, one to each twin. “Pay up, boys.”

“Bloody hell.” Fabian muttered, digging in his pocket. “I was so sure…”

“Join the club.” Gideon groused, plunking galleons into Dorcas’s hand. “You know, at some point…”

“We really ought to learn not to bet against her.”

“If you haven’t learned it yet, I doubt you will.” Dorcas replied, primly, soothing the loss of the galleons with a chaste kiss on the cheek for each of them.

Hermione stared at them in shock, feeling something like anger rise up in her stomach, but she was still too discombobulated from the situation to really get angry. “You bet on my Sorting?”

“Don’t be cross, sweetheart.” Dorcas advised. “All parents do. You just get to see it and to reap the rewards.” She held up a gold coin. “Your dads are paying for a nice dinner out.”

Hermione huffed, arms crossed over her chest, but nodded.

 As the summer shifted, Hermione became more and more comfortable in her new life, to the point where it worried her and made her proud all at once. She answered to Persephone without a start or a blink now, and could recite her fictional family tree with no problems.  She actually began to worry that she was somehow losing Hermione Granger in Persephone Meadowes-Prewett the night she dreamed she walked into Hogwarts and Ron and Harry didn’t recognise her, and pureblood prat Draco Malfoy was treating her like he did Pansy. It was so disturbing she wandered out of her room for some tea, only to find Dorcas there with a cup ready. Her adoptive mother listened to her as she spilled out the whole story, petted her hair, and rocked her until she fell asleep on the sofa.  She felt better in the light of day, having finally had a good cry over her losses, and forced herself to see it as a good thing. At least she wouldn’t falter in her story, even if she did miss the dentist’s daughter from Chelsea.

“I’ll tell you what,” Dorcas suggested when Hermione had calmed down. “You can come to Hogwarts with me tomorrow, while I try to make my classroom habitable and I’ll introduce you to your new Head of House. He’s quite nice. A bit obsessed with being well-connected, but nice enough. It’ll be good for you to get him on side, and it’ll ease you into the school year.”

Hermione didn’t know how that would help, but she was looking forward to returning to Hogwarts. It was something she always knew would be there. “Okay.” She said slowly. “You’re not going to use a lot of scarves and nag champa incense, are you?”

Dorcas burst out laughing at that. “Oh, darling, no, and if I start to veer in that direction, you have permission to jinx me.”

 That was how Hermione...no, Persephone , she had to stop dwelling on the past, found herself looking around the familiar dungeons, nervousness churning in her stomach as Dorcas knocked on the door to the Potions Office, a bottle of wine in her hand. “Horace!” Dorcas called politely. “Are you in, good sir?”

The door opened and a man that reminded Hermione of an uncle she had known long ago in another life was looking at them, a smile on his face that seemed to make his moustache quiver. “Dorcas, my dear! Albus had told me that you were going to be taking over the Divination post. I must say I was shocked, yes, quite shocked indeed.”

“I’ll explain, Horace, if you have time for a visit.” Dorcas replied with a smile. “I brought you a good Agiorgitiko I thought you’d like when I heard you were still teaching in this old place.”

“You always bring me such lovely gifts, my dear!” Horace enthused, opening the door wider. “Do come in.”

“Well, I must admit, I’ve a better one.” Dorcas said with a smile, stepping into the classroom, and pulling Hermione in the room behind her. “I’ve brought you a new viper for the nest.” She said, with a little smile. “Gid and Fab were terribly disappointed, Fab wanted her for the lions, and Gid split the difference with Ravenclaw.”

Horace was quite surprised, looking between Dorcas and Hermione. “Oho?” He queried, needing more information.

“Horace, may I introduce my daughter Persephone Meadowes-Prewett. Persephone, this is my old friend and your future Head of House, Horace Slughorn. She’ll be joining your fifth years, Horace.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Professor.” Hermione greeted, smiling at him.

“Now Dorcas, I may be getting old, but I know well enough that you are not old enough to have a fifth year as a daughter! It wasn’t that long ago you were a student yourself!” Horace said, hands on his rotund hips.

“Almost exactly that long.” Dorcas replied, smirking. “Just because we never got caught in the Astronomy Tower, doesn’t mean we didn’t take advantage of the view.” She laughed slightly. “I didn’t even realise I was pregnant until after the year let out. Mitera figured it out, and bastard locked me.” Dorcas put an arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “But the spell ended, and thus I was able to bring her home.”

Horace, worse than even Flitwick with his gossip, gave a deep belly laugh. “Well, welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Meadowes-Prewett. I’m sure with parents like yours, and triad-born to boot, that you are a most formidable witch. I’m sure you’ll fit in fine in Slytherin House.”

It took every ounce of Hermione’s will to keep her murmured, “I’m sure,” to keep from being sarcastic. Professor Slughorn was nice enough, and if she didn’t know that Slytherin was home to multiple future Death Eaters, she would have thought that maybe the house was different than in nineteen-ninety-five. She knew better, though and somehow resisted the urge to hum ‘ I Am The Walrus ,’ as her new Head of House led them into his sitting room and offered them crystalised pineapple, tea, and biscuits. It was a calmer introduction to Slytherin in the seventies than she had anticipated.

Chapter Text

The day Persephone's Hogwarts letter came was bittersweet. It had been a similar letter that informed Hermione that she was not insane, that the coincidences and strange occurrences in her life did not make her a freak or a walking jinx. That letter had always meant that she was not alone in the world, especially after she had started pulling away from her parents and meeting up with Ron and Harry to do her shopping. It had been awhile since she had done the annual pre-Hogwarts shopping trip on her own, and she was not looking forward to it. Unlike Dorcas.

The curly-haired witch beamed excitedly over her coffee. “Oh, lovely! We haven’t had a chance to take you shopping yet, darling.”

“We haven’t?” Gideon queried, taking a bit of toast. “Maybe I need to go to St. Mungo’s…”

“If I’ve been hallucinating all those shopping bags and packages we’ve had to carry from Madam Malkin’s and Flourish and Blott’s.” Fabian finished, as if he had started the sentence.

“Shush.” Dorcas said, shaking her head. “That was different, that was establishment shopping, this is school shopping! We need to take Persephone to get her schoolbooks, uniforms, more quills and parchment, she goes through it so quickly, and potions’ supplies, of course, and a broom…”

“Maybe not a broom.” Hermione said weakly. “I’m not fond of flying.”

“Cassie, love.” Fabian said, placing a hand on Dorcas’s shoulder. “Would you have wanted your parents following you around when we were going into fifth year? Let her do her school shopping on her own.”

“Maybe she’ll make some friends.” Gideon agreed. “She’s not an ickle firstie, after all.”

Hermione snorted at that. “Unlikely.” She said, with a shake of her head. “Unless there’s going to be a mountain troll in the alley.”

Fabian ruffled her hair, making her squeak as her curls fluffed up too-large again. “Baba!” She cried in protest, grumbling as she tried to smooth it down, even just a bit.

Dorcas let out a tearful laugh, but then shook her head, tone mournful. “But we never got to take her school shopping.”

Hermione wondered, not for the first time, how much of her backstory was fact. Sometimes the way Dorcas looked at her, or the things she said, like now, made her wonder if the Unspeakable really had gotten pregnant at Hogwarts and not discovered it until after graduation, but instead of the bastard cloaking and locking curses that her story used,  Dorcas’ parents had used some dark spell or potion that had caused her to lose the baby  and Hermione was her second chance at motherhood. “If you really want to…” She said, slowly. “It’s not like I have friends to meet up with.”

“No, no, the boys are right.” Dorcas said, waving a hand. “I can’t treat you like an ickle firstie. You should go, you’re less likely to make friends with me following you around.”

It was only because manners had been pounded into her head as a child, at least toward adults, that Hermione didn’t roll her eyes or snort again, but only agreed with a sigh.

 Since she often worked in the clock shop, Hermione didn’t really feel ill-at-ease in the alley. She chatted with Tom at the Leaky Cauldron, and Cerise at Eeylops, and wandered along watching the excitement of the real ickle firsties. It was when she saw a group of two boys and a girl reunite that her heart hurt, reminding her that she wouldn’t never have a moment like that with Ron and Harry ever again. Shaking her head, she pushed the morbid thought away and headed to the best haven the wizarding high street could offer: Flourish and Blott’s.

Somehow, just the scent of new books could relax her, and mixed with the fragrant wood of the many shelves and the sweetgrass Mr. Flourish burned in the backroom, it cleared the anger and grief, and the knot in her stomach disappeared. She retrieved a basket from the corner, waved to Mr. Blott, and set off with her school list. Surprisingly, it took a  fairly short time to stock herself for class, even including the manual for Divination that had her wrinkling her nose in the process.  She still thought Divination was full of frauds taking advantage of the easily scared, but Dorcas had pleaded with her to take the class, claiming to be afraid of being left alone with idiot children who wanted to know who they would fall in love with or whether they would succeed. When that had failed, the Slytherin had instead suggested it as a cover if she ever slipped up with some knowledge of the future, and in the end, Hermione had given in, but not without grumbling.

Required texts retrieved, Hermione let herself fall into the more esoteric and advanced texts. She had been told to make friends, but no one said that those friends couldn’t be in book form.

She was two chapters deep in an Arithmancy treatise, when Mr. Flourish’s voice caught her attention. “Ah, Persephone! I’ve that book your father wanted me to pick up before the lot of you head to Hogwarts. Do you want it, or shall I send him an owl?”

Hermione’s head came up in surprise, but she smiled. “I’ll take it, Mr. Flourish, if you don’t mind. I don’t see any point in stressing your poor birds when I’m right here.” She moved over to the counter with her basket, slipping the slim purple volume she had been reading into it, before placing it on the counter.

Mr. Flourish returned with a volume bound in what looked to be dragonhide, and placed it on the counter, before glancing into her basket. “Now, how many classes are you taking, Persephone?!” He said, startled.

Hermione blushed despite herself. “Arithmancy, Runes, Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, History of Magic, and Divination.” She wrinkled her nose a little at this last one, but Mr. Flourish just laughed, having borne witness to ‘Persephone’ grumbling behind her mother while Dorcas had eviscerated the Divination section to try and find textbooks she deemed acceptable.

Mr. Flourish shook his head. “Now, academics are important, Persephone, but this is your first year at Hogwarts, don’t forget to try and make some friends.” He advised. “As good as it might be for our bottom line, you can’t live out of books.”

Hermione grimaced. Why was everyone harping on making friends? Still, Mr. Flourish meant well. “I’ll try my best.” She said, as he totted up her purchases. “I’ve never been very good at introducing myself to people.”

“Well then, perhaps I can help.”  A familiar voice said behind her, and Hermione stiffened, turning to see none other than Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. “Sirius Black, at your service.”

Hermione swallowed hard, remembering the panic in Harry’s eyes as he declared that Voldemort had Sirius. She remembered how angry she had been with him over his treatment of Kreacher, the way he made her second-guess the D.A. Then again, this Sirius hadn’t done any of those things, and certainly didn’t look like the man that had spent twelve years in Azkaban.

“I’m P...Persephone.” Hermione murmured in turn, taking her package so she didn’t have to shake hands with him.

“How come we’ve never seen you before?” Peter asked, looking at her, and for a moment all she could see was the rat-man begging her to show him mercy.

“I’ve...I’ve just come from Greece.” She said, trying to remember the story she had rehearsed backwards and forwards, and trying to figure out when she had picked up a stutter. “I’m transferring to Hogwarts.”

“Hogwarts doesn’t do transfers.” Another voice said, from behind her, and Hermione whirled around. She relaxed infinitesimally for a moment before she realised that she wasn’t looking at Harry Potter, but James Potter. Everyone said they looked alike, and she could see it, but it only took her a moment to realise that this wasn’t Harry. Harry was smaller, and didn’t carry himself with his shoulders back like that, unless someone had made him angry. The suspicious look in the boy’s eyes, though, that was pure Harry, looking at Malfoy or Professor Snape. It had never been turned on her before, and it made her take a step back, even though the eyes were hazel and not green. It reminded her too much of her best friend, one she would likely never see again. She knew he was right to be suspicious. Hogwarts hadn’t had a transfer in decades, and the dark was growing, spreading it’s blood red and sickening green shadow over the wizarding world. She was strange, and the strange could not afford to be trusted out of hand.

“Professor Dumbledore arranged it with my parents.” Hermione  said finally, tilting her head up a bit, in that way she used to do when people questioned her knowledge or abilities.

“Why?” James asked, eyes narrowing.

Hermione didn’t have a good answer. Well, Hermione had a good answer that involved time travel and being stuck back in school before she was even born, but Persephone was struggling. She never expected her first encounter with the Marauders to be this intense . Frankly, ending up in Slytherin, she had kind of been hoping to avoid them altogether. It was strange to see Sirius and Remus like this, to see Peter and not think of the mangy man begging for her aid, or look at James and not see Harry. “I…”

“Bullying girls now, Potter?” A voice drawled, and for a moment, Hermione was glad to be Persephone, and to have Severus Snape coming to her defence instead of causing new wounds. The role reversal was a bit dizzying, but she turned her head to see the teenage Severus and that made it slightly better, especially since he had Lily at his side.

“Severus!” She said, happily, quickly moving to position herself by him, using him like a bit of a bodyguard. “There you and Lily are. I knew I should have waited.”

Severus blinked at her, unused to a situation where a girl other than Lily would want to be so close to him, not to mention being unused to being seen as saving someone else from the bullies. “Yes, well…” He drawled. “Next time don’t go on ahead.”

“Snivellus.” James sneered, even as Sirius Black closed in at his side. “Why am I not surprised."

“Maybe because everyone got their school letters, James, don’t be such a toerag.” Lily scoffed. “Come on, Persephone, don’t let these pillocks bother you. We’re off to the apothecary. Have you been yet?”

“No.” Hermione answered, with a headshake. “Let me just pay for my books, and we can be on our way.” She handed over most of her summer pay to the bookseller, and then skirted around a glaring James and Sirius to rejoin Severus and Lily.

The Marauders watched the new girl leave with Snape and Lily, and James leaned over to Sirius, speaking quietly. “There’s something not right about this.”

“We’ll keep an eye on her.” Sirius said with a nod. “If she’s hanging out with Snivellus, she may be dark.”

“But she said Dumbledore approved it.” Peter pointed out. “Would he do that for a dark witch?”

“Dumbledore always gives people chances. Sometimes where they are not deserved or the risk is high.” Sirius said after a moment.

Remus walked up, from where he had been listening to the entire encounter from a distance. “You mean like me?” He pointed out quietly, before going to the counter with his books for the year.

“Moony!” Sirius said, worriedly. “Come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that!”

 Severus Snape did not know what to think about the consequences of his snide comment at the bookshop. His barb at Potter had been exactly that, meant to humiliate the arrogant Gryffindor in front of Lily and point out to her, again , that he was a bastard who did not deserve her attention, picking on girls. More specifically, picking on the stray from the clock shop she had picked up the last time they had gone to Diagon together.  Lily was always protective of ‘her’ people. He knew that better than anyone. He had been the first, after all. It had undoubtedly worked, as she had spent the next fifteen minutes railing about ‘the idiots,’ to Persephone, telling the curly-haired witch that not everyone at Hogwarts would act like that.  

What he had not   anticipated was the strange reaction of Persephone Meadowes-Prewett. She had taken up at his other side, rather than beside Lily, which was strange enough. No one other than Lily deliberately sought out his company unless they had a purpose, and only blood purists of the highest calibre would prefer to walk beside him when Lily was an option. Persephone, however, had not so much as looked sideways at Lily or offered a backhanded compliment. She seemed sincere in her chatter to the Muggleborn, and yet, she had not left his side.

More than that, however, she had accepted his guidance in the apothecary without question, or even the kind of sideways glare Lily gave him when his comments were a little sharp. Instead, she had smiled at him, and thanked him. She had deliberately drawn him into a conversation with Lily about charms theory, and when he spoke, she looked at him without any seeming ulterior motive other than to hear his opinion. While she was not a particularly attractive witch: she certainly couldn’t hold a candle to Lily , no girl other than Lily had cared about his opinions before.

When he and Lily had dropped her back off at Prewett Bros. Charming Clockwork, after a long day of shopping and a surprisingly interesting dinner at The Leaky Cauldron, she surprised him yet again.

“Hey, Severus?” She asked, a little nervously. “You’ll spend time with me in Slytherin, won’t you?” She asked, cautiously.

“Why?” Severus asked, eyes narrowing. He would have expected her to be a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff, not a Slytherin.

That question seemed to bring her up short. “Well..I mean...I thought...that is...I’d like to be friends?”

Severus was almost as dumbstruck as she seemed to be. Finally, after an elbow to the side from Lily, he nodded. “All right.”

Persephone gave him a beaming smile that made him reassess his earlier conclusion. While she was no Lily, her bright smile, which certainly would not fit in among the Slytherins, lit up her face in a way that made her quite pretty.

“We’ll see you on the train!” Lily trilled to her, and Severus was all to glad to nod his head to Persephone and return to the Leaky Cauldron, and then Spinner’s end. It might be hell, but at least he knew what to expect.