Lavender Brown was livid. For months, she had been doting over Ronald Weasley, only for him to wake up murmuring the name of another girl—the very girl she had been concerned about all year.
"Hermione," she scoffed, kicking the stone floor. "Oh, Hermione, we've barely talked all year and suddenly, I need you. Oh, Hermione, please come hold my hand when my bloody girlfriend is right here . . . She isn't even pretty!"
"He was on a lot of potions," Parvati said, slowly. "He didn't know what he was saying, Lav."
"Oh, he knew! He knew good and well that he was asking for—for . . . her."
Parvati squeezed her hand, consolingly. "Well, it's his loss then, isn't it. Nobody in their right mind would choose Granger over you."
Lavender wanted so badly to tell her friend that it wasn't Ronald's loss. It was hers.
He was the only boy she ever really cared about. The only one she saw as more than just some good-looking Quidditch player she wanted to snog. He was kind, he was loyal, and he never treated her like the others did.
Ronald Weasley was a catch, and Lavender was quite certain she couldn't do better. But she couldn't tell Parvati that, so she settled on: "Yeah, I guess."
"He's not even that fit. The ginger hair alone knocks him down a few pegs, and he wasn't all that up there to start with."
Lavender sighed, longingly. "I love his ginger hair."
"Lav," Parvati groaned, "he's not all that great. He's always grumbling about when Harry Potter outdoes him, which is, obviously, all the time. He isn't all that nice to you and he just asked for Granger instead of you. Plus, have you seen the way he eats? It's disgusting!"
"He's a Quidditch player, Parvati! He needs his energy!"
Parvati shook her head. "As much as I'd like to stand here with you and do this, I told Padma I'd meet her in the library. Sorry, but I'm eons behind in Transfiguration so I really can't skip out."
Lavender couldn't believe that her friend was abandoning her. Her heart was shattered, and Parvati was going to go study Transfiguration, of all things.
Parvati hated Transfiguration.
"Go on, then," Lavender said, sourly. "Have fun studying."
"You'll be okay?"
"That depends. If someone cast a Crucio on your heart over and over again, would you be okay?"
"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Lav! Go to the common room, chat with some of the girls, get your mind off him. Just don't sit here and whinge on, yeah? It's not good for you." Parvati heaved her schoolbag over her shoulder. "I'll see you later, all right?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever."
As Parvati headed off in the opposite direction, Lavender put her back to the wall and sunk to the floor. The corridor was empty, so it seemed as a good a place as any to sit and cry. After all, once the student body found out what happened, she would be the school laughingstock anyway. If someone found her before then, she would just be accelerating the process.
She was not sure how much time had passed when she heard footsteps, but she quickly wiped her tears away, and looked in the other direction, hoping that the incomer wouldn't notice her sniffles or her red-rimmed eyes. Perhaps, she was too cowardly to be caught crying in hallways, after all.
"Miss Brown, please do get to your dormitory. There's no reason to be lingering about."
The ringing voice belonged to Professor McGonagall, and as much as Lavender wanted to strangle her, she did not have it in her to argue. Instead, she got to her feet, wiped her nose with her sleeve, and began following the professor. Awkwardly, she followed her for a few moments, having nowhere to go but forward.
But then, just as they came to a fork in the corridor, something tumbled to the floor from Professor McGonagall's billowing robes. The telltale clinking of metal against stone brought a frown to Lavender's face, and she stopped to retrieve the object and return it to the professor.
It was then that she realized what it was.
Only in tales she had read in her childhood had she seen one, but she would have recognized it anywhere. Adrenaline pounded in her ears as she glanced at McGonagall's retreating form, hoping that she hadn't yet realized she had lost it.
The professor kept moving with haste, and Lavender put the object in her pocket.
Lavender sat alone, not looking forward to the moment that Hermione Granger joined her in the room that they, unfortunately, shared. She wasn't sure whether it was her or Parvati that would come in first, but as she fingered the small artifact in her hand, she realized she didn't have to wait and find out.
Sitting up, she put the chain around her neck and bit her lip.
If she managed to do it correctly, Hermione Granger wouldn't be the one to comfort Ron at all. She would stay with Ron the entire evening, and he wouldn't end up in the hospital wing and he would be grateful and he would never get the opportunity to ask for the bushy-headed swot that didn't even care about him, anyway.
She smirked.
She was going to get her Won-Won back.
With a shaky breath, she closed her eyes and recalled her favorite childhood fairytale, Evonna the Time-Traveling Squib. Just like Evonna traveled in time to find her prince, she would travel in time to keep hers.
"My king," she corrected herself aloud, thinking of the chant from his best Quidditch game of the year. Then, she cleared her throat, and repeated the words she remembered from the story. "Earth below and skies above, take me to my one true love."
With that, she spun the gold band, and closed her eyes.
The pull was immediate, tugging her backwards rapidly, much like a Portkey might have tugged her upwards. If she could have screamed, she would've, but she was moving so fast that she couldn't even bring her face to move.
Then, finally, she landed.
The room seemed a bit odd. There was luggage she didn't recognize, several candy wrappers, and a giant stuffed animal on Granger's bed. Confused, Lavender peered down at her watch.
She was supposed to be in the library.
Granger must have hidden all of her embarrassing belongings and her sugar habit before she and Parvati returned. Lavender smirked, having just one more reason to make fun of the trollop.
"Suppose I'm off to the library, then," she muttered to herself.
The fairytales always said you had to follow your footsteps when time-traveling. So, to the library, she went, and she had just made it in time. Parvati was due to join her any second.
Alas, as she peered at her usual table from behind a bookshelf, she realized she wasn't where she was meant to be. After waiting nearly ten minutes, she decided to seat herself, cursing the inaccuracies of storybooks.
At least she could look forward to a much lighter conversation with the friend that had abandoned her.
So she fiddled with the Time-Turner and she waited.
It wasn't long before she heard the screeching feet of a chair across from her, and she excitedly looked up to the meet the familiar eyes of . . . someone that was most certainly not Parvati.
A girl with wild hair and large glasses had dropped her satchel on the table and was settling into the chair that should have been occupied by her longtime best friend. Lavender did not recognize her.
"Excuse me," Lavender said. When the girl ignored her, Lavender reached out to tug on her sleeve. "Excuse me!"
The girl jumped a bit, but did not stop unpacking her belongings. They were all objects of Divination: a crystal ball, tea packets, and a shard of what Lavender thought to be an oracle bone.
"Yes, what is it?" the girl asked, narrowing her eyes.
"I was saving that!"
"Saving what?"
"The seat! For my friend!"
The girl blinked, confusedly. "I always sit here."
"No, Parvati and I always sit here."
It was true. Lavender had never seen anybody else sit at the table in the Divination section.
"I don't know who you or Parvati are, but I can assure you that I'm the only one that ever takes this table." She shook her head. "Nobody else values the art of Seeing, I'm afraid . . ."
Lavender drew her brows together.
"You must not be in our year . . . Parvati and I are Trelawney's best students. She's been teaching us how to scry, you know."
The girl frowned. "Is this some sort of joke?"
"A joke? I—no, of course not! I—I meant no offense . . . Her class is our favorite is all . . ."
"You can stop playing your little game now! It isn't funny!" The girl began collecting her things, fury in her every movement. "Of all the nasty tricks . . . You must be one of Ropina Morping's friends . . . Well, go on! Run off and tell her your little prank didn't work. Maybe then she'll learn to leave me alone!"
"I'm not playing a game! I—I don't even know who Ropina Morping is—"
"Oh, I'm sure you don't," the girl scoffed. "Calling me a professor . . . Acting all . . . all strange. Well, I'll have you know, my grandmother was Britain's most import—"
"Wait, calling you a professor? Are you telling me you're Sybill Trelawney?"
Lavender had made a mistake. A big mistake.
"Yes. Obviously, you knew that already, or you wouldn't be here pestering me," Sybill grumbled, shoving everything into her satchel. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go study in the girls' lavatory."
"No, wait!" Lavender exclaimed, chasing after her. "Prof—I mean, Sybill, look."
She showed the future professor her Time-Turner. Sybill's eyes widened, making them look even more bug-like than usual from behind her large glasses.
"Is that . . . you're from the future?"
Lavender nodded. "What year is it?"
"1976." Sybill blinked. "What year are you from?"
"1997."
"1997," she breathed. "Tell me, do the gargoyles take over the castle in '89 like I predicted?"
"I—I don't think so," Lavender said, a bit surprised that one of the professor's visions wasn't correct, "but you become a professor! The best Seer at Hogwarts."
Sybill was positively beaming. "I knew I had the gift. I just knew it! All my life, people have doubted me, but all along, I've had it . . . I've always felt it. But sometimes—sometimes even I doubted myself . . ."
"Well, now you know that you shouldn't."
Lavender ran her thumb over the Time-Turner.
"You need to get back, don't you?" Sybill said, morosely.
"I do . . ."
"Right. Just when I thought I found a friend."
Lavender bit her lip.
"I guess I could stay a little longer?" She cracked a smile and flashed the Time-Turner. "And maybe I could visit? It's not like I don't have any time to spare."
"Really?" Sybill gasped. "You can stay?"
"For a bit, if you'd like. I can tell you all about the future." She grinned. "Not that you need me to."
Sybill chuckled. "You flatter me, you know. I have some sugar quills in my room, if you'd like?"
"Oh, I would like," Lavender said. "I think going back twenty years is enough reason for a sweet."
So they sucked on sugar quills as Lavender told Sybill all about the future. They talked about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, which terrified Sybill, but did not seem to surprise her. They talked about the Triwizard Tournament, who would be working at Hogwarts, who would win House Cups, and most notably, they talked about Ronald Weasley.
"Well, he's stupid if he chose someone else over you," Sybill said.
"I mean, she's not pretty," Lavender replied, though she wasn't quite sure she meant it. Hermione was, in her own way, rather beautiful. "But she is smart. And they've been friends for years . . ." She buried her face in her hands. "I can't compete with her, really. Not when his family loves her . . . and not when she's his best friend and she's close with Harry Potter too and—"
"Then he's an idiot," Sybill decided, "and I see the Grim in his future."
Lavender beamed. "Do you really?"
"No. I just thought it'd make you feel better."
"Well, thanks. You're a good friend, you know, Sybill. I wish I could talk to you like this in 1997."
"I suppose you can now, can't you? I'll remember you," Sybill said. "Time-Turners don't take away memories of people visiting from the future. That's why you're not supposed to be—"
Suddenly, the door whipped open and two girls sauntered in. One was willowy and blonde and the other had dark hair and dark eyes and dark circles beneath them. In unison, their jaws clenched.
"Who's this?" the brunette asked.
"This is L-Lavender," Sybill stammered. "She's—er—she's from Gryffindor."
"Don't recognize her," the girl spat. "What year are you in, Lavender?"
"I'm—well, I'm in—"
"Hey, is that your necklace?" the blonde quipped, drawing her brows together.
Lavender glanced down at the golden chain beside her on Sybill's bed and her eyes widened.
"No! No, this is—"
"I've been looking for this for weeks!" the dark-eyed girl exclaimed, reaching out to seize the Time-Turner. Then, she frowned. "This isn't—this is hideous!"
"It's mine!" Lavender shouted, reaching out for it. "Give it back!"
"Or what?"
"Or I'll—I'll hex you!"
"Oh, you will, will you?" The girl snorted and reached for her wand. "I'd like to see you try."
"Ropina," Sybill begged, "please, give it back."
Ropina rolled her eyes.
"Fine." She smirked. "Catch."
And with that, she tossed it in the air.
Lavender shrieked and tried to catch it. Sybill scrambled for her wand. Alas, they were both too slow. The Time-Turner fell to the floor and shattered into a pile of glass and sand.
It had been a month. Lavender had been searching for a way back to 1997, living in the broom shed by the Quidditch pitch and keeping her head low in the corridors. The only person she had grown close to was Sybill, and if it weren't for her, she wasn't sure how she would cope.
Of course, if it weren't for her, she may have already been back to the future.
"There's nothing," Lavender complained, slamming yet another book shut. "The only way back is using a Time-Turner. And it's not like we're just going to find another one of those lying around."
Sybill reached out and squeezed her hand. "I'll try more repairing spells. I just—I just haven't found the right one yet."
"Yeah, well, I won't hold my breath," Lavender muttered. "I'm getting sick of having to hide in the broom shed. You see this goose egg? That's from a Bludger. A Bludger! It fell off one of shelves while I was sleeping. It was chained up but—are you even listening to me?"
Sybill seemed far away. She seemed like that a lot as of late.
"Yes, of course," she said, cracking a false smile.
"Something's wrong."
"It's nothing." Sybill waved her off. "And I'll find a way to fix the Time-Turner, okay? Just . . . give me some time."
"I would, but I don't exactly have it to spare." Lavender leveled her gaze. "You really haven't found any spells that could fix it? After a whole month, I'd think—"
She reached for the book in Sybill's hands, but Sybill pulled it out of her reach.
"Of course I haven't," she said, her large eyes wide behind her round spectacles. "Don't think you I would've told you if I did?"
"Well, of course, but—"
"Do you not trust me?" Sybill hissed. "Are we not friends?"
"Sybill, we are friends, but sometimes—"
"If we're friends, then you should trust me—"
"I want to trust you!" Lavender shouted, balling her fists. "But sometimes—sometimes, it feels like you've been hiding from me! Like you've had a spell all along but you haven't told me because you didn't have any friends and then I came along and now you do!" Angry tears were threatening to fall. "And I understand wanting friends, Sybill, but if—if you have a way, it's not fair to me, and if I ever found out you were lying, we'd never be friends again. And I—I don't want that."
"I don't have a way."
"But if you did, would you really tell me? Or do you not want me to go?"
Sybill groaned. "Of course I don't want you to go."
"Look, I get that you like having me here, but I have a life! Back in 1997, I have a life and I have friends and I have a family . . . I can't—I can't live in broom sheds forever . . . I mean, you're a great friend, but—"
"And that's all I'll ever be to you," Sybill scoffed.
Lavender frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"And you don't even get it!" The bespectacled girl threw up her hands. "That's all I am! A friend. And it makes me feel sick to my stomach because I—" Sybill faltered and shook her head. "Never mind."
"No, what? What were you going to say?"
"It doesn't matter. You'll never get it because I'm me and you're you and—"
"And what?"
"And I bloody love you, okay!" Sybill shrieked. Her chest was heaving. "I don't want you to go back because I bloody love you and if you go back to 1997, I'm way too old for you and now that I say it out loud, it's stupid, because you're in love with that Ron bloke and—"
But she never finished her sentence, because Lavender's lips were on hers. It was fire and electric and ice all at once, and as Lavender's eyes fluttered open, she realized how it had never been that way before.
Not with Dean Thomas when they were twelve. Not with Ernie Macmillan when they were fourteen. Not even with Ronald Weasley.
"Wow," she breathed.
Sybill was ghosting her lips with her fingers.
"Did that—did that actually just happen or was I dreaming?"
Lavender shook her head. "No, it happened."
"And you—do you regret it?"
Lavender shook her head again.
"No."
Sybill let out a deep sigh, one that sounded like she had been holding it in for an age. "Well, that's a relief. But you—you still want to go back home, don't you? To 1997?"
Lavender's stomach lurched. Suddenly, she found she didn't much mind the broom shed.
"Well . . . I suppose I could stay a little longer?"
Sybill grinned.
"I'd like that."