1947
The day had come.
Hermione Granger held the time turner firmly in her grasp and took a long breath. What she was about to do went against all she was taught. It was against everything she was- no, had been, she reminded herself. She had been a law abiding witch with a thirst for knowledge and a pure heart. She had been an eager Griffindor desperate to prove to herself and others that she belonged, that she could be great. Nothing about what she was planning to do was great. She would not garner glory, she would not be praised, she would never be recognized. Murder did not call for applause. It was a vile act, she knew this but for her it was necessary. She'd do what others were unwilling to do because in the countless battles she'd fought and the war that raged on even now, she'd learned it was kill or be killed.
Humanity tore itself apart right in front of her eyes again and again. She went right along with it. At first she told herself it was to protect those she loved, that it was necessary to keep everyone alive. But one by one as each and every comrade, friend, and mentor fell she stood lonely on the field. She fought but quickly realized she was not doing it for anyone anymore. Part of her craved vengeance, she wanted to burn every death eater and Voldemort sympathizer she could get her hands on. She wanted them to feel what her friends had. She wanted them to suffer as she had. However, when the anger left she realized something inside her had broken. She just wanted everyone back. She wanted her friends, her parents, her life.
War was the biggest thief she knew and it took everything from her. She was determined to stop it, cease it from existing. The consequences would be dire. There was a chance her body may not even survive the near-impossible journey back all those years, but she had to try. She had to do something. She was determined to. Hermione watched the sand in the time turner glittering, the gold of the rings caught the light and it looked all wrong in her rough hand. She began a countdown in her head.
One…
She put the time turner around her neck.
Two…
She prepared to spin the golden rings.
Three…
She hesitated only a moment, having long since accepted that there would be no going back. She had what she needed, everything was in order, nothing could hold her back. She spun the time turner. The rings moved about and she closed her eyes. The world around her faded away and disappeared. Suddenly, Hermione Granger was gone.
She awoke with a start, feeling her body lay flat against hard ground. She stayed still a moment, blinking up at the sky, the smell of smoke filled her nostrils. Snow soaked her clothes, clinging to her, the cold from which gnawed at her skin. When she sat up she did so slowly. Her hands were going numb and she did her best to pull herself up onto her feet. Her knees quivered and she dropped onto them, her breath visible in the cold air. She suddenly felt bile rise in her throat and could do nothing but double over as it all came spilling out. She felt horrible, it was as though her stomach had been flipped and her head began pounding. Her chest hurt, it felt like someone had used a lengthy needle and stabbed through it, leaving the burning sensation. Her eyes wandered down then widened at the time turner. The glass was broken and the rings looked like they had been blown through, like the time turner exploded outwards. Not only that, it had burned through her clothes. The skin was an angry red, tiny fragments stuck to her skin, focused around one particular point.
She slowly took off the object and examined it. The edges of the golden rings were now jagged and black, it was completely unusable. There would be no going back to her time, even if she wanted to. She’d expected that, but seeing the broken time turner just made it all feel more real. There was a lump in her throat as she continued to stare down at the ruined rings.
To know and to experience were two very different things. During her countless nights of reading and revisiting theories on time travel she had come to accept this as one of many possibilities. Being here now was… bizarre to say the least. This was a one way trip through and through but at least she survived it. To modify a time turner was a gamble, but to then proceed to use it as she had? It was all but suicide. Funny where desperation and a wish for retribution could lead a person.
The sound of footsteps abruptly caught her attention, her head snapped up in an instant. She was thankfully able to get her legs beneath her. She stood with her wand drawn, taking a step back. Her heart began pounding against her stinging chest. The man that stepped out from the trees was not what she expected. Quite frankly she wasn't sure what she expected. A snatcher? Death eater? As if they existed yet. No, he was old, tufts of white hair poked out from beneath his hat and his face was rather gaunt. He and Hermione locked eyes for a moment that felt more like eternity. Something about his eyes was…different. They possessed an oddly haunting quality. His gaze moved to her wand. “Planning on beating an old man with a stick, are ya girl?” He croaked. He shook his head and Hermione lowered her wand. “Uh- No sir. You scared me, is all.” He seemed to find this amusing, “Not very brave if I can frighten you.” He chuckled then began to shuffle forward. His clothing was much like a relic she'd find deep in her grandfather's closet. He was clearly a muggle. “My, not even a scarf on you. People these days, thinking not even the cold will affect them. That's how you get ill, young lady.” He looked at her clothes disapprovingly then a look of surprise came across his face as he pointed at her trousers. “I heard the French started doing that. Women in trousers, but I didn't think I'd live long enough to see it catch on in England.”
Hermione forced a smile on her face. “Times change.” “Yes, oh yes, that they do. What's your name, girl?” He asked. “I'm-” she stopped, debating whether it was better to lie or tell the truth. “Hermione.” What use did she have to lie? The world she came from would be no more after this. She’d create a new future, a better one. “Quite a peculiar name. Never met a ‘Hermione’ before. Plenty of Marys though.” He walked past her. Hermione stood still for a moment then decided to follow him. Perhaps they could both head back to the nearby town or… She faltered. If this was the same forest, which it should be, that meant the nearest town was populated by wizards. The nearest muggle establishment was miles away. If this truly was 1947 that meant the current forms of transportation would not have allowed for someone to get this far and no roads for cars existed here either. How was it an old man, a muggle man at that, managed to get here?
She looked up and was about to speak but he wasn’t there. She frowned at his disappearance. That wasn’t right. She scanned the area but it was as if he had suddenly vanished. She looked down at the snow but it was pristine apart from the mess she’d made. No footprints, no signs of his shuffling feet, had there been any as he walked? She hadn’t noticed. Was he even real? Perhaps it was a side effect of traveling so far back in time. She’d have to look back into that later. Right now she had to get out of this damn forest.
She bent down and picked up her mokeskin bag, slinging it across her shoulders. She trudged along the snow covered woodland until she reached the town. The walk was nearly 20 minutes and again she found herself debating if the old man had been real. Would someone so old really walk out that far? And what for? She took in the town, in her time it was a small and rather decrepit place but here people walked the streets and lights shone through the windows of shops and much newer looking buildings. It was still small but a lot more cheerful. A few children ran about as well.
She fell into step behind a random man wearing black robes but stopped as she spotted a boy at the corner selling newspapers. He waved it around, announcing the headline to the world. He spotted her as she approached. “Would you like a paper, Miss?” He asked. “Yes, I would thank you.” She reached into her pocket and brought out a sickle. The paper floated into her hand but the boy looked at the sickle with wide eyes, glancing up at her with uncertainty before finally taking it and tipping his hat. “Thank you very much, Miss.” She didn’t pay him much mind, already walking off with the paper in hand. She scanned the page, found the date, and stopped. A smile spread across her face.
16th November 1947
It worked. She was here now in one solid piece with a, hopefully, completely intact mind. A breeze hit her and she closed the paper, her small smile remained. Soon the world would change. Soon, Hermione Granger would set her plan into motion.
Tom Marvolo Riddle was going to fucking burn.