Chapter 1
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that an intelligent woman in possession of a curious mind, must be in want of studies and scholarly pursuits, rather than a husband.
Though some may see romance as the only respectable option, Hermione knows that the life of the mind holds the truest pleasures.
She carefully measured out three pinches of ground moonstone, watching as the shimmering powder floated down into her cauldron. She leaned in close, inspecting the potion's mother-of-pearl sheen and light steam trails. So far, so good. According to the notes spread across the desk in her private quarters, all that was left was a single sprinkle of Timeturner Grains, the most volatile and rare ingredient in this intricate potion.
This potion was Hermione's final project for her Potions Practicum Capstone at Hogwarts University, and it had to be perfect.
After years of magical education, it all came down to this advanced potion that could manipulate time itself. Just a sprinkle of those glittering grains, and her future as the brightest witch of her age would be secured.
Hermione took a deep, calming breath as she reached for the vial of Timeturner Grains, tapping it gently. This was a highly controlled substance only permitted for this advanced academic use. If she could master the complex recipe and precise measurements, her potion would surely exceed all expectations.
This was her chance to prove her prodigious potion-making talents. Her entire future career in magical research and discovery could rest on the perfect execution of this potion.
With a steady hand, Hermione carefully tilted the vial over her cauldron, ready to let the Timeturner Grains work their magic.
Just a sprinkle, that's all it would take...
"Hermione!"
She jumped at the sound of Ron's voice right behind her, her hand slipping on the vial. A huge pile of glittering dust cascaded into the cauldron. Hermione whirled around to see Harry and Ron grinning at her.
"I told you we could sneak up on her," Ron said.
Hermione snatched her wand from the table. "Get back!"
As the men fled, she attempted to take cover but it was too late. The potion was frothing violently, rising up the sides of the cauldron. There was a deafening bang as it exploded outward, covering her in shimmering potion.
Hermione coughed, wiping potion from her face. "Oh no. I’ve got to get to the hospital wing, quickly!"
"What? Why?" said Harry, looking down at her.
"Because that wasn't just any potion. That was an experimental time manipulation potion!" Hermione wailed. "There's no telling what sort of effect all that extra time-dust will have!"
Hermione pushed herself off the stone floor, but her arms trembled, barely able to support her weight.
She collapsed again, her limbs like jelly.
The effects of the exploded potion rushed through her as she lay helpless on the ground. Her vision blurred, the room spinning into a kaleidoscope of shimmering colors.
She blinked rapidly, but it only made the dizziness worse.
Harry and Ron were at her side in an instant. "Hermione!" Ron cried, gripping her shoulders.
She tried to lift her head to look at them, but a wave of nausea kept her pressed to the cold floor. Strange tingling sensations prickled across her skin wherever the potion had splashed on her.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked urgently.
"I...I don't know," Hermione murmured. She could already feel the potion seeping into her blood, the powerful magic unlocking doors in her mind and body she could not comprehend.
Ron wrapped his arms around her, trying to lift her up. "We've got to get you to the hospital wing, now!"
But Hermione could not stand, her legs like gelatin beneath her.
The room swam as Ron pulled her limp body into his arms. She felt herself drifting into inky blackness as the potion's ancient magic overwhelmed her. She could only hope Madam Pomfrey's healing powers could undo whatever arcane enchantment now flowed in her veins.
Drip.
Drip.
Another drip upon her forehead.
The sound was repetitive, like the ticking hands of a clock, as droplets landed on her skin.
With every breath, she felt the crispness of the air around her. The sweet petrichor scent of rain mingled with earth and moss filled her nostrils.
A soft wind danced through her chestnut curls, tickling lightly across her nose.
Slowly, hesitantly, she pushed the wild tresses aside and opened her eyes. Her lashes fluttered as she drew a sharp gasp at the strange sight before her.
No longer was she in Ron’s strong arms being hastily hauled to the hospital wing as Harry followed worriedly behind. Now, she was outside in a beautiful green valley.
Her eyes scanned the idyllic landscape, taking in the riot of wildflowers blooming in vivid hues of violet, gold, and crimson. Ancient oak trees dotted the valley, their gnarled branches reaching like weathered arms toward the spotless azure sky. Delicate butterflies fluttered aimlessly from flower to flower, their gossamer wings catching the sunlight.
Hermione pressed her hands into the soft, spongy grass and soil, feeling the earthy life beneath her fingertips. The blades of grass were cool and smooth, still damp with rains now passed. She clutched fistfuls of earth, grounding herself in the lush valley.
Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the honey-sweet fragrance of the meadow.
For a moment, she forgot her spinning head and trembling limbs. The ancient magic now thrumming in her veins seemed to melt into the verdant realm around her.
As Hermione opened her eyes once more, she looked down at herself in shock. Gone were her Hogwarts robes, replaced by a modest white cotton dress with long, fitted sleeves and a full skirt.
Her wild curls cascaded freely around her face.
She sat up abruptly, blinking in confusion at her new surroundings. Lush green hills rolled gently all around her and the tree she had awoken under. There was no sign of the castle or her friends.
Turning slowly, she searched for any other signs of life in this strange pastoral world.
As she peered around the trunk of the great tree, she spotted a handsome three-story estate nestled at the bottom of one of the hills.
It had an air of 18th century nobility with its symmetrical brick and stone façade and stately sash windows peering out over the countryside. Emerald green ivy crept up its ancient walls.
Hermione gathered her skirts and walked barefoot through the valley's soft grass and wildflowers toward the magnificent, yet unfamiliar, house.
Her mind raced wildly to make sense of it all.
Where was she?
What strange magic had transported her here from Hogwarts?
Was she going to miss her project deadline?
And where were Harry and Ron?
The power of the exploded potion had somehow swept her away to this fantastical realm and placed her in these old-fashioned garments.
But how and why had she come to this place?
Hermione hurried onward over the emerald grass, determined to find answers and, hopefully, a way back home.
At last she arrived at the imposing oaken door of the magnificent estate. As she gazed upward in awe at the stately residence, the door suddenly swung open. Hermione stumbled back in surprise to see a familiar face standing in the entryway, framed by the warm light within.
"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
Ginny Weasley stood before her in an casual empire-waisted gown of pale blue muslin, her red hair pinned up loosely in a flirty updo. She looked Hermione up and down with concern.
"I should ask you the very same question!" Ginny declared, placing her hands on her hips. "Pray tell, why have you wandered so far from Auburndale dressed in such a state, without cloak or shoes? Barefoot in the grass! You shall catch your death of cold, dear sister."
Hermione's frown deepened.
Sister? She was an only child.
And what was this Auburndale Ginny spoke of?
What strange enchantment had transported her here, to this world where Ginny acted as if they were family?
"Forgive me, I know not how I came to be here," Hermione replied carefully. "Some magic brought me, though I comprehend it not. Can you help me return home to Hogwarts?"
Ginny clicked her tongue and took Hermione gently by the arm. "Hogwarts? Home is here at Auburndale, where you have lived happily as my sister for years, ever since our parents took you in. Now come inside directly and warm yourself by the fire before you fall ill."
Thoroughly confused, Hermione allowed Ginny to lead her into the magnificent estate that was apparently called Auburndale.
From Ginny's words, Hermione gathered that in this perplexing new reality she found herself in, the Weasleys an English family of decent means living in the countryside. And for reasons beyond her understanding, they had taken her in as their own daughter years prior.
The cold wood of the floor met her bare feet with a chilling kiss, reminding her this world felt uncannily real.
She continued deeper into the grand estate that was apparently her home in this time and place.
The sudden shuffling of feet behind her made Hermione start and whip her head round abruptly. Before her stood Ron looking befuddled, his hair as fiery red as ever.
"Sister!" Ron exclaimed, "Wherever have you been wandering? And in such a state of disarray! My word, you look as if you had been trampled by a herd of wild rabbits."
Hermione suppressed a most unladylike urge to embrace her friend, reminding herself he was not the Ron she knew here. She attempted a small curtsy, wobbling a little on legs made unsteady by magic and confusion.
"Forgive my appearance, I know not what came over me," she replied, thinking fast. "I simply fancied a...a stroll to the stream before breakfast and must have lost my way.”
"Ah well, what's one more adventure for you?" Ron said with a wink. "Haven't we found you wandering the hills in a daydream before? Though I dare say, never shoeless in your nightdress!"
He chuckled warmly before his tone turned serious again. "You gave us quite a fright, you know. The whole household's been searching high and low."
Hermione felt a rush of affection for this Ron who, despite the oddities of this universe, still cared for her so sincerely.
After their messy breakup a few years prior in her own reality, they had eventually mended their friendship into a sibling-like relationship.
She was glad to see that bond enduring, even in this strange new realm.
"My apologies for causing alarm," she said. "I don't know what came over me."
"Think nothing of it!" Ron declared. "Let's get you decent. I suspect you might need to change gowns and have a strong cup of tea. The morning dew seems to have done you no favors."
He gave her a lopsided grin that lit up his eyes with familiar humor. Hermione felt herself relax slightly.
Ginny locked arms with her once more, guiding her through the house.
Hermione was escorted to her bedchamber, a modest yet comfortable room on the second floor of the estate. Sunlight streamed in through the sash windows, illuminating the floral wallpaper and canopied bed where she had awoken that morning, finding herself in this peculiar realm.
Looking about, she noted the furnishings were simple but tasteful - a writing desk tucked in the corner, an armoire for her gowns, a dressing table with a vase of fresh wildflowers. Through an adjacent door, her private washroom contained an enamel tub.
It was a pretty, feminine space, decorated in soft creams and pastels. An embroidered quilt with rosy pink roses covered the four-poster bed. Lace curtains filtered the morning light and rippled gently in the breeze.
Though the room was unfamiliar, she had to admit it suited the person she was in this idyllic world - a girl with a romantic spirit and a love of reading and nature.
Running her fingers over the cherry wood desk, she could imagine herself penning letters here or reading novels late into the night.
It was still a stranger's room, but she could see herself growing fond of it.
"You’re a mess." Ginny giggled.
"You smell as if you've been rolling down hills. I'll fetch you something suitable."
In a trice, Ginny returned bearing a simple day dress of soft olive cotton with three-quarter length sleeves and a sage green sash.
"Arms up," she directed briskly, helping Hermione out of the ruined white nightgown. Hermione shivered as the cool morning air prickled her bare skin. Ginny tutted sympathetically as she slipped the fresh gown over Hermione's head and fastened the buttons down the back.
Observing herself in the looking glass, Hermione adjusted to the unfamiliar feeling of the dress's fitted bodice and full skirt. The graceful empire silhouette became her short frame.
"There, that's better," Ginny murmured affectionately, giving Hermione's shoulders a gentle squeeze. "Forgive my candor, sister dear. Come now, let us break our fast. Cook has prepared honeyed porridge."
Hermione nodded, allowing Ginny to link arms and lead her downstairs to the dining room. Inside the handsomely paneled room, the scrumptious aroma of roasted apples and cinnamon mingled with the mouthwatering scent of the porridge.
The Weasley family was already gathered around the large mahogany table set with fine china. Hermione's cheeks flushed under their curious gazes as Ginny guided her to an empty chair. Before she could sit, a liveried footman stepped promptly forward to push in her seat.
As Hermione settled in, two maidservants emerged from the kitchens bearing trays laden with food - golden porridge with drizzled honey, plates of bacon and sausages, baskets of scones and jams. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she had eaten nothing since arriving in this strange new realm.
Once everyone's plates were filled, the family fell into casual breakfast conversation. Hermione kept mostly quiet, unsure of her footing.
As the meal wound down, Mrs. Weasley set her teacup on its saucer with a decisive clink.
"I nearly forgot to share the news I heard in town yesterday," she declared brightly. "It seems Stagfield Park has finally found a tenant. A wealthy young gentleman named Mr. Potter has taken residence."
Hermione's spoon froze halfway to her mouth.
Harry was here too in this odd reality?
What did it mean?
Sitting to Hermione's left, Ginny took dainty bites of porridge, the picture of ladylike manners. Yet her eyes glimmered with barely contained excitement about the news of Mr. Potter.
Across from them, Fred and George whispered furtively to one another between heaping mouthfuls of eggs and toast. No doubt the mischievous pair was already plotting some merrymaking to welcome the newcomer to the neighborhood.
At the head of the long table, Mr. Weasley sat immersed in the newspaper. He responded to his wife's pronouncements with distracted murmurs, adjusted his spectacles, and turned a page.
On Hermione's other side, Ron ate with characteristic zeal. His eyes met hers with a sympathetic crinkle as she picked at her food, conveying an unspoken understanding about her unusual state this morning.
From further down, Mrs. Weasley nodded indulgently.
"Simply marvelous news about Stagfield Park's new tenant," she declared, setting down her teacup decisively. "A Mr. Potter, wealthy? And unmarried? Why, he must meet our Ginny and Hermione!"
She leaned forward excitedly, a matchmaking glint in her eye. "You know, Mr. Weasley, as master of the estate, it is your duty to greet newcomers to the neighborhood and extend an invitation to dine."
Mr. Weasley spluttered into his newspaper. "My dear, must you begin matchmaking the poor fellow before he has even finished unpacking? Let us allow Mr. Potter to settle in first."
But Mrs. Weasley would not be deterred.
"Who knows how many eligible young ladies may be vying for his acquaintance? Best to secure an introduction for our girls straight away. Oh, it would be wonderful to have such a wealthy suitor interested in dearest Ginny or Hermione!"
Hermione shifted uneasily as Ginny straightened in her chair, shooting furtive glances at the elder Weasley siblings.
"Mum, really, there's no need..." Ron attempted as Mrs. Weasley prattled on enthusiastically about the merits of Stagfield and its new master.
Hermione nibbled her toast, wondering just what this Mr. Potter's arrival might mean for unlocking the secrets of her puzzling predicament.
"Now girls, you must help me prepare for Mr. Potter's arrival," Mrs. Weasley said. "I intend to provide a full accounting of your many charms and accomplishments."
Turning to Ginny, she asked, "Remind me dear, are you still dedicating your afternoons to watercolor painting? You must show Mr. Potter your floral landscapes - your artwork is so refined for one so young."
Ginny nodded demurely as her brothers smirked into their breakfast.
"And Hermione, your studiousness and talent at the pianoforte are so impressive," Mrs. Weasley continued. "Why, you can discourse for hours about books and poetry! Mr. Potter will surely admire your erudition and discernment."
Hermione squirmed under the scrutiny, uncomfortably aware she possessed few of those ladylike skills in her real life.
"What are your thoughts on courtship and matrimony?" Mrs. Weasley pressed. "Any particular wishes I should subtly impart about your hopes for the future?"
Hermione and Ginny exchanged panicked glances across the table while Ron choked back laughter.
Mr. Weasley let out a defeated sigh, shaking his head behind his raised newspaper.
“Dear, our girls can wait for Mr. Potter to approach them.”
His lady scoffed, almost offended at his lack of interest.
"How can you say such things, my dear Mr. Weasley!" she exclaimed. "It is all very likely that Mr. Potter will indeed fall in love with one of our girls, by mere chance and coincidence that is. Therefore, you must visit him as soon as he is settled!"
Ginny leaned in close to Hermione and whispered, "Shall we go, dear sister?"
With a shy smile and nod, Hermione allowed herself to be led from the drawing room by her. As they ascended the grand staircase, Ginny could barely contain her excitement.
"What do you think this Mr. Potter will look like?" she gushed, her mind racing with possibilities.
For Hermione, that wouldn’t be too hard of a guess.
"I've no idea," she offered passively as Ginny guided her into her bedchamber. Hermione's skilled fingers worked Ginny's fiery red locks into an elegant braided updo.
“You seem quite excited.”
"How could I not wonder?" chirped Ginny, conjuring a pale flower hairpin out of thin air with a flick of her wrist. "Here, use this."
Hermione frowned slightly.
Ginny had just casually used magic, which could only mean one thing in this new reality— it was completely normal.
