idiosyncrasies

It had been a week since Hermione had ended up in the 1940s, and she'd still had no luck understanding what force had brought her here, or why there were such small, strange differences. She had spent all of her free time in the library, becoming more and more desparate - and she’d checked out Temporal Tangles: A Guide to Time Magic, Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions, and Arcane Anomalies: Explaining the Unexplained, and had been poring through all of them, with no solution to her woes. 

Although it was clear from every book she’d read that situations of emotional extremities could cause apparition or other wandless magic, especially in children, she found it incredibly unlikely that it could explain time travel, and accidental magic didn’t seem to fit her situation either way. Temporal Tangles clearly stated that time magic’s boundaries would only allow most to go back for more than a few hours, elaborating on horrifying stories where people had attempted to go back farther. It had gone on to describe many theoretical situations and even more horrific scenarios of what could happen if someone were to travel too far back in time, making Hermione feel sick. 

There also didn’t seem to be anything at all that explained the discrepancies between her time and this one, especially the runes. When not looking for a way back home, she spent all her time trying to catch up. She had memorized the new runic tables, cataloged as many differences in spells as she could, and scrutinized every magical theory text available to her. In short, she was exhausted.

Thankfully, she had not needed to interact with the Head Boy/Evil Dark Lord at all. He had not spared her one glance since she had arrived, not even to bring her the promised notes from Dippet. She supposed he was busy with being a suck up to the professors, swanning around with his gang of posh pure-blood boys, and other various evil pursuits. 

It was unfortunate that he was good-looking. He seemed to have the entire school wrapped around his finger. Every professor seemed to love him, and every student seemed to admire him. Hermione often had to remind herself of his fate in her time, a noseless ugly creature.

One morning during Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hermione walked into class late, her eyes burning with exhaustion after another long night in the library. She slipped quietly through the door, but Professor Merrythought’s sharp gaze caught her immediately. The elderly professor raised an eyebrow but didn’t pause her lecture. Hermione sighed inwardly and headed toward a seat in the back of the room.

Merrythought was deep in the middle of a lecture on advanced defensive magic. Although Hermione was drained, she did her best to fake attentiveness. She had mastered this topic several times over, but diligently took notes even as the fog in her brain clouded her thoughts. 

Merrythought’s voice droned on as she expanded on the modifications to traditional Protego spells. “There are several variations of the Protego charm, each with unique defensive properties. Who can name a few examples of modified Protegos used in dueling?”

A few hands shot up instantly. Hermione’s, however, remained on her desk. She knew the answers but didn’t see the point in volunteering. As her eyes stayed downcast, she sensed Merrythought’s disapproval from across the room. When she glanced up, sure enough, the professor was giving her another pointed look. Her thin lips pressed together in a familiar expression of disappointment. Hermione quickly looked away, feeling a knot form in her stomach.

Merrythought’s gaze flicked away from Hermione and settled, as always, on Tom Riddle, who sat near the front of the class. His posture was perfect, he appeared calm and composed. The moment Merrythought looked at him, her expression softened.

“Mr. Riddle?” Merrythought prompted. Although Riddle had not even raised his hand, he answered perfectly, rattling off variations of Protego in his irritatingly smooth voice, while Merrythought nodded in approval. When he was done, Merrythought smiled, eyes practically glowing in admiration.  “Precisely, Mr. Riddle. Well done.”

This had become a pattern. Almost every time Merrythought asked a question, no matter who else raised their hand, her attention always fell on Riddle. It seemed impossible that he would be unable to answer a question. It was infuriating.

Although Hermione had resolved to keep her head down and focus on figuring out a way back to her time, the favoritism grated on her nerves. So when Merrythought later asked, “What do we know about Protego Diabolica and its properties?” Hermione’s hand shot up before she could stop herself. For a moment, she regretted it, wondering if she should have stayed quiet, but the words were already forming in her head.

Merrythought paused, glancing at Hermione as though evaluating her. The professor seemed hesitant to call on her, but after a brief moment, she relented and nodded. “Miss Granger?”

Hermione sat a bit straighter in her chair. “Protego Diabolica is a dark variant of the protective shield charm. Instead of simply blocking spells, it creates a fiery barrier that incinerates anyone deemed unworthy by the caster. Those the caster deems as allies or non-threatening can pass through the fire unharmed, while enemies are immediately consumed by the magical flames.”

Merrythought tilted her head slightly, considering Hermione’s answer. “Correct,” she said slowly, “but you’re overlooking an important point.”

Hermione blinked, certain that she was not. But before she could respond, Merrythought’s attention shifted again, her gaze falling predictably on Tom Riddle.

“Mr. Riddle, perhaps you could elaborate?”

Riddle smiled slightly, as though he had been expecting this moment. “Yes, Professor. Although it’s true that Protego Diabolica incinerates those deemed unworthy by the caster, the spell has an additional filter - the fire also targets those with a predominantly light magical core. Even those deemed worthy by the caster must possess a dark magical alignment to pass through unscathed.”

Merrythought smiled warmly. “Well done, Mr. Riddle. Precisely.”

Hermione seethed silently, though she tried to suppress it. She was positive that this was untrue - at least in her time. She should have been right, and yet Merrythought had found a way to correct her and elevate Riddle once again. Hermione glanced around the room, noticing the admiring looks everybody gave him, and fought the urge to storm out of class.

Once the lesson ended, Hermione gathered her things quickly, eager to leave the classroom and escape to the library. But before she could make it out the door, Merrythought called out once more.

“Miss Granger, please stay behind for a moment.”

Hermione stiffened, looking over at Tom Riddle, who was still packing his books in the front. She knew it was a horrible mistake to raise her hand. Still, she made her way back to the front of the room, dreading whatever Merrythought had to say.

The professor looked at her kindly, although there was a stiffness in her demeanor. “Miss Granger, I know you’ve been working hard to adjust to our curriculum, but it’s clear you’re still behind on some of the finer details. Mr. Riddle here has been keeping excellent notes, and as Head Boy, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind assisting you.” 

Hermione’s eyes flickered to where was now standing, casually leaning against one of the desks. He smiled, revealing annoyingly perfect teeth. Hermione clenched her jaw. “Professor, I appreciate it, but I’m certain I will catch up in a few weeks.” Hermione said, keeping her voice polite but firm.

Before Merrythought could respond, Riddle’s voice cut in. “I’m more than happy to help. I’ve been remiss in not offering earlier. A bit caught up with other duties, you understand.” He turned his attention fully to Hermione, looking ever the part of the humble, helpful, model student. “It’s really no trouble at all, Miss Granger.” 

Merrythought nodded approvingly at Riddle’s words, then turned back to Hermione, her gaze sharpening just a little. “As you said, Miss Granger, I understand you’ll catch up in time. But since the Head Boy has offered his assistance, it would be wise to take advantage of it.”

Hermione could feel the pressure from both Merrythought and Riddle. Grudgingly, she nodded. “Thank you,” she muttered, attempting to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

As they exited the classroom together, Hermione forced herself to maintain a polite front. “Really, I’m fine, but thank you for offering, Riddle,” she said, forcing a smile. “I can manage on my own.”

Riddle turned his head slightly, studying her. “It’s no problem, Miss Granger. It’s my responsibility to ensure that all students, especially transfers like yourself, are adjusting properly. In fact, I could give you a tour of the castle if you’d like. It might even help you get to class on time.” He gave her a charming smile. Hermione’s fingers twitched with the urge to punch him. 

She avoided making direct eye contact as she responded. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve managed to find my way around Hogwarts just fine,” she said, her forced politeness beginning to falter. She hoped he would take the hint and leave her alone.

For a brief moment, Riddle’s expression shifted into something unreadable, and Hermione felt a flicker of fear in her chest. But then he smiled politely. “Suit yourself, Miss Granger,” he said lightly, his voice casual. “But if you change your mind, do let me know. After all, it’s my duty to help.” He flashed her a final smile before turning to walk away. 

Hermione scowled at the back of his head. She exhaled sharply and made her way toward the library, determined to focus on anything else. If this lesson was anything to go by, she clearly needed to dig deeper into advanced defensive spells.

✦✧✦✧✦

After spending hours in the library, Hermione headed to dinner, her shoulders tense and her head aching with exhaustion. Despite her efforts, she had made little progress. The most frustrating part was that much of what she already knew from her own time overlapped with the unfamiliar and subtle differences, making it even harder to identify them, like trying to untangle a knotted chain in a dark room.

On top of that, the interaction with Riddle had left her on edge. If he were to discover the truth about his future, it would irreparably alter the timeline - and then she’d really be in a nightmare, since there’s no way she’d be able to make it home.

As she walked to dinner, she felt someone approaching her from behind. For a brief moment, she feared it could be Riddle again, and she whipped her head around, her nerves on edge, but let out a sigh of relief when she saw it was only Aurelia Prewett smiling back at her, one of the Gryffindor girls she shared a dorm with.

"Merlin’s beard, Hermione, you look like you’ve seen a ghost! I may be pale, but I’m not quite one of them yet!" Aurelia laughed warmly, her red curls perfectly pinned in a soft, polished wave, bouncing as she caught up with Hermione.

Hermione laughed too, apologetically. “Sorry, I was just lost in thought. Didn’t realize I was so jumpy.”

“I was going to ask if you fancied going to Hogsmeade this weekend. It’s the village just outside Hogwarts - there’s loads of shops and places to relax. A few of us from Gryffindor are going, and it might be a good distraction from all the schoolwork.”

Hermione smiled at Aurelia’s warm invitation. “Yes, that sounds nice. I’d love to see the bookstores.” Maybe something in Hogsmeade would provide the answers that the Hogwarts library had not yet yielded. 

Aurelia grinned. “Oh really? I thought you hated books from the thousands you have in that massive pile by your bed. But really, it’ll be fun. We can pop by the sweet shop, get some butterbeer, and relax. Merlin knows you’ve been buried in the library far too much lately.” Hermione laughed, and Aurelia leaned in as they continued walking, lowering her voice slightly. “So… I saw you talking to Riddle earlier. He’s handsome, isn’t he?” She gave Hermione a curious but playful look. 

Hermione felt the heat rise to her cheeks, though it wasn’t from admiration. “I suppose,” she replied, forcing a polite smile while inwardly cringing at the thought.

Aurelia gave Hermione a light nudge. “Oh, come now, Hermione, you have to admit he’s good-looking. Shame he’s so awfully serious. I much prefer a man with a sense of humor.” 

Hermione laughed genuinely at that. “You mean Elias in sixth year? I saw the two of you talking in the common room the other night.”

Aurelia gasped dramatically, but she was blushing. “Oh, hush! You weren’t supposed to notice that!” She covered her mouth as she laughed.

Hermione and Aurelia entered the Great Hall for dinner. Although Hermione was eager to get back to her time, she did miss this. On the run from Voldemort, she hadn’t had a real meal in what felt like ages, and the regular meals in the Great Hall were a drastic improvement. The tables were already brimming with platters of roasted meats, vegetables, and freshly baked bread. 

As they sat down, Hermione couldn’t help but overhear a nearby conversation between a group of Ravenclaws, talking in low voices. “Did you hear about the attack in France?” one of them whispered. “Another village destroyed, no survivors. It’s getting worse every day.” 

Hermione felt her heartbeat racing. If these attacks escalated or were discussed in more detail - she was nervous her cover story could unravel. The fear of slipping up, of not knowing enough to stay believable, gnawed at her.

She knew very little of Grindelwald's actual movements in this time beyond what she’d read in history books. If anyone started probing, or if the events she claimed to have survived contradicted known facts, her credibility could be questioned. She couldn’t afford that - her very presence was already precarious enough. The thought of how easily things could fall apart crossed her mind, but she pushed the feeling aside. 

Hopefully, I’ll be able to get back soon, and this will just be a distant memory, she thought grimly, not wanting to think too much about being stuck here. The anxiety that she might be trapped, living through one dark era after another, was creeping in.

Aurelia, sitting next to her, noticed the change in her expression. She leaned in, her voice gentle. “Is everything alright, Hermione?”

Hermione forced a small smile, trying to mask her feeling of dread. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice a little too light. “Just thinking.”

Aurelia didn’t push further, sensing Hermione wasn’t ready to share. “Alright,” she said, offering a reassuring pat on Hermione’s arm. Then she turned her attention to the girl sitting next to her, who was grumbling something about a difficult Potions assignment involving an ear-growing potion.

"You should have my brother try it out," Aurelia joked, earning a laugh. "Though I doubt you’ll notice any difference, his ears are already enormous."

Aurelia’s brother, Ignatius, sitting nearby, looked over with indignation. "Oh, very clever," he shot back, feigning injury. "If my ears are large, it’s to fit my massive brain. Yours have a bit of catching up to do." The girls exchanged amused laughs.

Hermione, only half-listening, took a deep breath to calm her hands from shaking. Her eyes flickered over to the Slytherin table, where she spotted Riddle getting up from his seat. He was surrounded by his usual group of Slytherin cronies, who were getting up right as he was, because of course they couldn’t think for themselves. 

His features were sharp and striking - his jawline perfectly defined, his dark hair curling slightly at the edges around his face. It would be easy for anyone to think he was handsome, Hermione begrudgingly admitted.

He didn’t glance in her direction as he stood to leave, though Hermione found herself holding her breath for a moment, half-expecting him to notice her. But he didn’t. He simply walked out of the hall, his robes billowing slightly as he disappeared through the entrance, and his posse following behind.

Hermione let out a quiet sigh, her shoulders relaxing a bit now that he was gone. She couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling he gave her, but she was relieved that she was still below his notice, even after their conversation. She felt a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over her. She finished the last few bites of her meal, her appetite fading, and then stood up to leave, needing to clear her head.

As she rose from the table, Aurelia glanced over. “You’re heading off?”

Hermione nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty tired. But I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Aurelia smiled and nodded. “Don’t forget about Hogsmeade. Shall we meet in the common room before breakfast?”

Hermione managed a genuine smile this time. “I’ll be there.”

✦✧✦✧✦

Hogsmeade was as lovely as Hermione remembered. It was a crisp fall day, but still sunny, and the leaves had turned brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow, crunching beneath their feet as they made their way down the path. 

It was a small group of Gryffindors, but the warmth of their laughter and lighthearted conversation made her feel welcome. Aurelia led the way, pointing out shops with enthusiasm, while Ignatius and a couple of other students chatted animatedly about what they wanted from Honeydukes. Although they weren’t Ron or Harry, the easy camaraderie helped take the edge off the knot of anxiety tightening in Hermione’s chest. Her stomach had been in constant turmoil since her arrival, but their friendly chatter made her feel like she could breathe a little easier, even if just for a moment.

Hermione didn’t want to waste too much of her limited funds, or what little she had remaining from her beaded bag, so she hung back, enjoying the lighthearted chatter of the group as they explored Honeydukes.

Finally, they passed by a charming little shop tucked away at the edge of the main street, with a weathered sign. The storefront was lined with dusty windows, and stacks of books could be seen piled inside. She was reasonably sure this bookstore hadn’t existed in her own time. 

Aurelia caught Hermione glancing at it. “I knew it! You want to go in,” she said, grinning. “You can’t resist a bookstore, can you? You’ll like this one, it’s a used bookstore, so the books are much more peculiar.”

Hermione smiled sheepishly. She was about to suggest they go ahead without her, but Aurelia waved her off, so she pushed open the door. As she entered, a faint bell tinkled overhead, and the comforting smell of aged parchment and leather filled the air. 

Curious to explore, Hermione moved through the narrow aisles, her fingers brushing over the spines. There were countless unique books she had never seen before, their faded covers boasting titles in various languages. Although most of them didn’t seem immediately relevant to her situation, it was fun to browse. She found a unique title called Quidditch Quips & Curiosities - a collection of amusing tales and Quidditch tips. Hermione thought it might make a thoughtful gift for Ron or Harry when she eventually returned home. Ignatius peered over her shoulder. “Oh, I used to have that one! Great insight, that book, made me much more effective on my Cleansweep.”

As she continued browsing, she found several others. There were old spellbooks, unique fiction collections, and a curious title called Fabuleux Fantômes de France, about the interesting stories of ghosts encountered across France, which she picked up for fun. In Obscure Oddities: Spells the World Forgot, she found a spell for quickly and easily turning solid objects into smoke, which might prove useful, though she couldn’t think of a practical reason just yet.

As she was almost finished making the rounds, one last tattered book caught her eye. The title was in a script that looked like Arabic, clearly handwritten, and the cover was light blue. It was also clearly bound by hand. There was no obvious reason why it stood out, other than looking incredibly old, but for some reason, Hermione was intrigued. 

She gestured toward the book, pointing it out to Aurelia. “Do you notice anything special about that one?”

Aurelia glanced over briefly, her eyes sweeping across the shelf but never landing on the book. “What? No, I don’t see anything unusual. Why?”

Hermione frowned, her curiosity deepening. “You didn’t notice it?” she asked, gesturing again at the old blue book. Aurelia’s gaze once again slid right past it, not even pausing to consider it.

Interesting, Hermione thought. She wondered if it had a Notice-Me-Not charm on it. But if that was the case, why could she see it? And why was she so intrigued by it? The book had a strange pull. 

Curiosity getting the better of her, Hermione tapped it and muttered a quiet "Specialis Revelio," hoping to reveal any hidden magical properties. A faint shimmer appeared around the book for a brief moment, confirming her suspicions that it was indeed under some variation of a Notice-Me-Not charm. The book’s faint glow faded quickly. 

Determined to decipher the book’s secrets, Hermione spotted an old Arabic-English dictionary on the shelf and grabbed it. Flipping through the pages, she attempted to match the script in the book with the dictionary. To speed things up, she cast a transfer charm, hoping it would pull the text and translate it directly.

The spell flickered and struggled, illuminating only a few scattered words. Frustratingly, the translation was incomplete. Words like ‘energy,’ and ‘web,’ appeared, but much of the text remained obscure. The Arabic-to-English dictionary fell short, and Hermione could tell that the language was more complex than she’d anticipated. The spell had also managed to translate the author’s name, listed on the first page, but it only revealed a first name: Tahmina. The few other words that did translate only caused Hermione’s intrigue to grow.

She scanned the shelves around her for any other physical reference on languages, flipping through dusty books on linguistics and magical dialects, but couldn’t find anything comprehensive. Frustrated but determined, Hermione decided to buy the book anyway. She’d have to do her research elsewhere. 

As the shopkeeper wrapped up her purchases, Hermione turned to Aurelia and the others. “I’m going to head to Tomes & Scrolls,” she said.

Aurelia groaned dramatically. “More books? Hermione, we’re meant to be enjoying ourselves!”

The others laughed, sharing Aurelia’s mock exasperation.

“Go ahead to the Three Broomsticks without me,” Hermione said with a small smile. “I’ll meet you there in a bit. I just want to check one thing.”

“Very well, but don’t abandon us entirely for Tomes!” Aurelia said, her tone lighthearted, as she and the rest of the group began heading towards the tavern.

Hermione waved at them as they left, a strange but optimistic feeling in her chest.