July 1977
A month had rolled by in Spinner’s End and that had Hermione on edge. What if she was stuck here? What if she damaged the timeline? Something had to give and give soon. She couldn’t just continue to work for and learn from Katarina and pretend like she wasn’t in the wrong time. She couldn’t stay here. She wasn’t even sure how much damage she was doing simply by being there.
When she’d been given a time turner in fourth year it’d been simple. She’d understood the rules and the perimeters and knew how to keep herself in line. But, there was no list of clear rules here. It wasn’t like she was going to run into herself of course. She wasn’t even born yet. The problem lied in what would happen with the people around her. She couldn’t interact with someone without knowing the ramifications of that interaction. She didn’t know what would happen if she talked to someone for too long or met with someone she knew in the future in the past. There were too many variables. WIth the time turner it had been easy. She was never more than an hour older than she had been and she’d planned her day so she never ran into herself. There wasn’t a problem with someone seeing her twice or changing the timeline by talking to someone. Now there might be.
She needed to find a way back. And soon. The longer she spent here the more she was in danger of finding out what would happen to the timeline or worse being stuck here forever and damaging time as she knew it.
“Malen'kaya ved'ma!” Katarina shouted, pulling Hermione from her thoughts and subsequently from pulling roots from the garden.
Hermione glared at the door. She hated that she called her ‘little witch’, no matter how much she’d taught her and taken care of her. She was thankful to Katarina, don’t get her wrong. Without the older woman she would’ve been lost trying to navigate her way through this, but it didn’t mean that Katarina wasn’t a pain in her ass. She treated Hermione like a lowly apprentice. Hermione was a war hero, damnit. And just because she’d deaged to what she assumed was seventeen, nearly eighteen, didn’t mean she had to be treated like it. She hadn’t even been treated like a teenager when she’d been one!
She sighed and headed inside, stopping short as she noticed the white robed wizards in the room. Three Unspeakables stood together in the living room of Chicken Coop, as she affectionately had begun to think of it.
“Finally,” she sighed, “When can I go home?”
“We don’t know, Miss Granger,” one of them spoke, “We just found your location today. And your situation is one we are unfamiliar with. My name is Aiofe Rowle. We found in our books that you were shot into the wrong time, but that’s all we have. Can you enlighten us on how you got here?”
Hermione nodded, sighing. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. She told them about the broken time turners and slamming into another unspeakable.
“I have to get back to my time. Gods knows the damage I’m doing here,” she said when she finished.
“You should be fine so long as you don’t talk too much about the future. Most people will assume they’re remembering their youth wrong when they encounter you in the future. And others who realise will know better than to open their mouths. The problem for us is figuring out how to get you back to your time and reage you without your mind defaulting to your current age’s mental capacity.”
“Are you saying you don’t know how? Can I even live two lives at once?” she demanded, “I would’ve encountered myself at some point!”
Hermione knew herself well and she knew that if she truly had been here during this time she would’ve been all over the history pages. They must know something to bring her home. Or was she currently changing her entire future by being in this moment?
“We understand your worry. And we will try to figure this out, but you must understand we’ve never had anyone travel so far back and deage. We have to fix at least one issue if not both. Research must be done and until then we must do what we can to keep you out of trouble.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
“You will stay the summer here with Mistress Volkova, but we have made plans for you to attend Hogwarts’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry so we can keep an eye on you while we work.”
“You expect me to go to school?” Hermione demanded, “How is that keeping a low profile?”
“Staying there will keep you in our field of vision and seeing while the war develops. If you are from the year 2005 then you must know what’s about to happen. And even more so know the importance of keeping you safe and somewhere Lord Voldemort cannot find you. Him locating you might be the only difference between…”
“He can’t find out what I know. I can change the trajectory of the entire war,” Hermione finished, “And Hogwarts’ is the best protected place.”
“Exactly. We do not pick sides in this war as Unspeakables, but I will not willingly give either side an advantage.”
“It isn’t our job to sway history,” Hermione murmured.
Hermione knew her mission as an Unspeakable wasn’t to change history. She hadn’t even thought about it until the other Unspeakable had brought up the possibility. But, she was right, if Hermione was caught by either side she could change everything.
The woman gave a sharp nod. “Yes.”
“Fine. I’ll stay at Hogwarts’ until you figure out how to send me back.”
“Thank you for working with us, Unspeakable Granger.”
“Just get me home.”
Hermione’s life had become a pattern of waiting for the school year and inadvertently becoming the apprentice of an angry old Russian potion’s mistress. The woman loved throwing things at Hermione whenever she did something wrong and loved to yell abuses whenever children came close to the house. Hermione’s only reprieve was going into the village for groceries, but that didn’t mean she didn’t try to keep alert of her surroundings. Today though she couldn’t seem to focus. All she could think about was that a month had gone by and she was still in this tiny shitty village surrounded by magical compounds. She wondered who owned them as she looked around, unsure of who she could trust. She didn’t know of any other wizards in Spinner’s End, but she knew a boundary line when she felt one and she’d felt a large one just North of Volkova’s house.
“Ow,” she said, walking directly into a tall figure. She looked up into eyes so dark blue they were nearly black and frowned.
“Watch it,” a familiar voice spat, but it wasn’t nearly as commanding as she remembered.
She jumped back and took in the man in front of her, her breath catching as she recognised the him. She’’d never thought Severus Snape as a young handsome man, but here he was. His hair was in gentle waves around his face as he glared down at her, clutching a Potioneers’ bag in his arms.
“Excuse me?” she demanded, annoyed by his rudeness.
“I said, watch where you’re going,” he repeated, slowly as if she was daft.
Her eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to argue, but was stopped by another deep barking voice.
“BOY! Stop dawdling and move. The potion I have in the cauldron isn’t going to wait for Baba Yaga’s silly halfbreed,” the posh voice spat.
Severus flinched, but moved around her. “Yes, Grandda.”
Hermione turned, looking back at the horse drawn carriage a couple feet away from her. She looked up into the cold cruel blue eyes of a white haired wizard. His eyes narrowed.
“Thought I wouldn’t notice you nosing around my ward? Stay away from my estate,” he snapped, as Severus hurriedly ducked into the carriage, “And tell that grandmother of yours to stop picking the plants on my unwarded property.”
The man slammed the door of the carriage shut as Hermione felt relief that the story she and Katarina had spread about her being her halfblood granddaughter was working. Hermione frowned as she watched the carriage pull away, feeling whipped. She hadn’t known Snape had known his grandfather. She’d been under the impression he’d been shunned. No wonder he was so surly in the future being raised by someone so angry.
After the encounter with the two surly wizards she hurried up with her errands and ran back to Katarina’s. The witch was standing outside, waiting for her, concern written all over her face.
“Good, he didn’t hex you,” she said, relieved, “You’ll do well to stay away from Prince and that grandson of his. That family is rotten. The man disowned his own daughter and when she was murdered took in that boy to keep him like a common house elf. If they find a mudblood living here they won’t take kindly to it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me we lived that close to a pureblood family?” Hermione demanded.
“The less you know the better,” Katarina retorted, “Now, get inside.”
Hermione had taken to walking around the woods. It was the most peaceful part of her time here and the only thing she could seem to do to pass the time. There was only so much time she could spend tending to Katarina’s home and reading her books on witchcraft. Though Hermione did find a lot of the old magick in the books fascinating.
Trepidation filled her as she walked today though, a wave of nausea hitting her when she came upon a set of large iron gates. She reached out to touch the gates, feeling magick coming off of them.
“I wouldn’t go any further if I were you,” a quiet Welsh accented voice said from behind her.
Hermione whipped around to come eye to eye with a young woman, close to her age.
“Who lives here?” Hermione asked.
“Severin Prince,” the girl replied, “Most wizards around here know that. Why don’t you?”
“I just moved here…” Hermione said, slowly.
“Ah! Baba Yaga’s granddaughter!” the girl said, cheerfully, “The Half-Blood from London! My Aunt Aoifa said something about you transferring from Beauxbaton this year.”
“Andy! What are you doing–” Severus started, but cut off as he caught sight of the curly haired girl from the other day, “Oh, you. Didn’t my grandda tell you to stay away from here?”
“I didn’t know I was so close,” Hermione countered, eyes narrowed.
“I’d stay clear,” the girl he’d called Andy explained, “The Princes; aren’t really the most tolerant of Half-Bloods or Muggleborns. Even the ones they keep in their house.”
“There are wizards to the south that might be more your ilk,” Severus said, cruelly.
Andy snorted, her cerulean eyes, flashing with mischief.
“My ilk?” Hermione started, “Aren’t you–”
Before she could insult him back a loud crack made the three teenagers back up quickly. A house elf in tatters stood in between them, pulling his ears.
“Master’s guests be leavings. He be wanting the boy and girl back. He not be beings happy,” the elf worried, “Mistress Rowle’s father be wantings her back.”
“Thank you, Twill. Let Master Prince know we’ll be right back,” Andy said, biting her lip.
“I’d make myself scarce,” Severus said, his eyes filled with something close to worry as he peered back at Hermione.
“Come on, Sev,” Andy said, “See you at school–”
“Hermione,” she offered.
“I’m Andraste Rowle. This is Severus Snape. See you around.”
Hermione watched as they went inside, more confused than ever. She could’ve sworn that from all the rumours Snape’s only friends had been Death Eaters, but Andraste Rowle wasn’t a name she was familiar with. She watched as they went back into the large Victorian home before disappearing back into the woods.
“I thought I asked you to stay near,”Severin said, his voice severe as he worked.
“I know Grandda, but Andy–”
“You shouldn't be spending so much time alone with the Rowle girl. She is above your station,” he spat, “You will ruin her reputation as badly as that Black boy she’d been dating. That family has the most unruly wizards.”
“So you have said,” Severus muttered, “We’re friends.”
“What does a Pureblood girl want with a Half-Breed like you?” Severin sneered, “Lucky for us her father doesn’t mind or else your friendship with her would jeopardise my place as Potion’s Master.”
“I know, Grandda.”
Severin took him in slowly.
“You know why those men were here today, yes?” he said, slowly, snapping his fingers.
Twill readily appeared in the room with a tea set, quickly preparing his master’s drink as Severin took in his grandson.
“Yes, sir,” he muttered.
“Speak up, boy,” he hissed.
“Yes, sir,” Severus said, louder this time.
“We don’t know what they plan. So, stay away from them,” he started, “We are not fools nor are we dunderheaded enough to get ourselves involved with zealots.”
“I know, Grandda. Some of the ones part of the movement were my schoolmates. They say Lord Voldemort’s conquest is inevitable.”
“A group of Purebloods spewing our superiority led by a half-breed sounds pretty dunderheaded to me, doesn’t it?”
Severus nodded, slowly.
“We will sit back and wait,” Severin said, “We shall see how real their intentions are.”
“They’ve already infiltrated the ministry and started a war against mudbloods,” Severus pointed out.
Severin snorted, “A few attacks here and there. Like I said, zealots. Cult-like. One thing I will give that ungrateful daughter of mine, she at least birthed someone smarter than that. You are not a sheep, Severus. If they approach you make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons.”
“Isn’t their mission just?” Severus asked, trying not to squirm under his grandfather’s gaze.
“To whom? And is the restlessness worth their way?” Severin asked, remembering the muggle wars, the ones that practically dragged them all out of hiding. And the last wizard who had attempted to usurp his way into power with Pureblood Mania.
“You talk about how much you hate mudbloods all the time,” Severus pointed out.
“Yet, I’m still not stupid enough to believe that they stole their magick from Pureblood witches. How positively primaeval to believe one could strip another of magick,” he snorted, “Remember your own mind. When these animals bring me facts instead of propaganda then maybe I shall change my mind about joining their cause. Go down and check the cauldrons before bed.”
Severus bowed his head and headed down to the potion’s room.
Severus thought about the way this had all started. It had been quiet, spreading through the Slytherin students like wildfire as a rumour no one knew how to dispel. It hadn’t been until some of the upperclassmen had begun showing up to school with tattoos on their arms did they know the validity of the Death Eaters. Severus had been around the propaganda for years and he had to admit it was intriguing.
Was what they were fighting for really that horrible? Freedom outside the confines of Ministry control. True freedom to practise magick in the open. It was muggles who forced Severus to hide who he was and made him weak in front of others of his kind. Was a world where he didn’t have to hide that bad?
He’d seen the way the Slytherins had flocked to the power and had even joined Andraste to a couple of Death Eater rallies. Where she had been disgusted by the display he could see the intrigue. It was about true power and true freedom of expression. It was the ideal world where he didn’t have to hide who he was. A world where Wizards didn’t have to be afraid of Muggles. They didn’t have to hold back and to be hunted down and could defend themselves.
In a way he thought they were right. Wizards had magick gifted to them, obviously they were the superior race when it came to humanity. They, unlike Muggles, had adapted and evolved. Wasn’t that the point of evolution? Survival of the fittest?
If he’d known his own true strength maybe he could’ve stopped his father’s beatings. If he’d been able to defend himself without fear he could’ve stopped from becoming James’s punching bag or could’ve stopped his father murdering his mother. He could’ve been home safe with his mother instead of living in this cold large mansion, raised by a man who hated him as much as his father had hated him.
Severus finished checking the potions before he headed to his room. As soon as he was inside he opened his window and climbed out, heading back out into town. The one thing he was thankful for was his grandfather not keeping tabs on him once he was out of his sight. It gave Severus the type of freedom he craved. He walked around the quiet village of Spinner’s End wandering away towards the edge where Lucius was waiting to take him to another Death Eater’s rally. Freedom was what Severus craved and he’d do anything to get it.