September First
She had been in the void so long she had started to panic, something must be wrong, she tried to reverse the time turner but found it immovable. After what felt like hours her exhausted body slammed into the ground. Feeling like she’d just gotten off on her first muggle roller coaster, she turned to the side and threw up.
“Miss Granger!” Dumbledore seemed to be right where she had left him, stroking Fawkes, the long sleeve of his light blue robes swishing softly. “It seems we have reached plan C!” he said cheerily, not phased in the slightest by her sudden appearance or tattered robes.
Hermione looked down to the time turner still hanging around her neck and found it had shattered. Maybe when she fell to the floor.
Pushing herself up onto her elbows, she struggled to get her bearings. The tall window to Dumbledore’s left was patterned with raindrops, casting a gray gloom over the room.
“What time is it?!!” She asked quickly, pulling herself to her feet and immediately stumbling. A flick of the Headmaster’s wand placed a cushioned seat under her just before she could fall.
He smiled. “About 10:00 I believe!”
She quickly started counting on her fingers; if Malfoy arrived an hour early, and Harry and Dumbledore landed at midnight, then she would have at least twelve hours to come up with a plan and execute it, that is unless he came earlier-
“Such a gloomy day for the start of term! The poor first years will be drenched by the time they reach the sorting hat.” His eyes were twinkling at her from above his half moon spectacles.
“Wha-what was that Professor?” she said weakly.
“I said it’s 10:00, September first. Is that a scroll in your hand?” He tilted his head to the side curiously. Speechless, Hermione handed him the scroll with her instructions which he swiftly unrolled, reading it for a few silent seconds.
“Excellent!” he exclaimed, tapping the parchment and returning it to her. “Well Miss Granger, it looks like you have your work cut out for you this year! I did prepare a few things in the case of this event,” he reached into his robes to pull out a small purse and tossed it to her.
“And I hope you won’t mind if I check in with you every once in a while. There may be some difficult adjustments in your future. But nothing an adventurous and curious mind can’t conquer!” Still beaming he ushered her out of his office and onto the moving stairway, sending a lazy “Snape should be able to get your schedule set up!” as the stone closed behind her.
Snape? Schedule? September First? It was insane. And yet, the dread settling in the back of Hermione's throat told her it was probably true. She knew that time turners could be powerful enough to send people even years back into the past, but that was highly illegal. Then again, she knew by now that Dumbledore considered himself a bit above the law.
Sighing, she ran a hand down her face. There was no use in overreacting. She had a job to do and she would do it, regardless of the circumstances. There was no length she was not willing to go to in order to save Harry Potter.
Steeling those emerald eyes in her mind, she set off determinedly along the corridor, then paused, realizing she was completely unsure of where she was meant to go. The castle was empty, the students wouldn’t arrive until dinner for the feast.
The students… Harry, Ron, they would be on the train right now, with her. The thought sank to her stomach like a rock. Sliding down behind a suit of armor in the corridor she wrapped her arms around her legs. She wanted to hide there forever, safe behind the knight’s thick silver calves. Her finger traced the top of his steel boot. Tiny stars were engraved along its rim. Stars reflected in green eyes.
She punched her fist into the steel (causing no effect other than bleeding knuckles) and then slowly opened Dumbledore’s scroll. It unfurled dramatically, three feet in length, almost as long as her essay on Werewolves, but strangely there was only one bullet point at the top of the parchment.
She reread it three times. To her surprise, her heartbeat was calm. She would do anything to save Harry. And Dumbledore was taking full advantage of that. Something icy slid through her veins. Something steely, confident. She found her feet and moved.
_______
“Blimey, Hermione there you are! I lost you on the platform, get the first years in alright? Harry’s still not in yet, do you reckon the carriages got stuck out there? Right mess of mud-”
Ron’s sentence was cut off by Hermione’s arms flung around his neck. He awkwardly returned the hug. She didn’t care and she didn’t let go until Parvarti let out a little cough next to them and shot Hermione a look that said we will definitely be discussing this in the dormitories tonight. Hermione rolled her eyes.
She bounced her leg under the table, eyes glued to the doors of the great hall, waiting, knowing it was just a matter of moments - and there he was, glasses broken, blood dried on his cheek, hair as messy as ever. The walk was too long, she sprinted out of her seat and choked him in a hug even more suffocating than the one she gave Ron. Tears were welling up in her eyes.
“Harry, Harry, Harry.” she whispered his name like a prayer. He was alive. He was here. She pulled back and didn’t care that tears were streaming openly down her face.
Malfoy pushed past them suddenly, having entered the hall just behind Harry, and gave them a passing glance of disgust. Hermione beamed back at him. Alive. How beautiful to be alive.
“Right,” Harry said, pushing her off of him after indulging her hug for a good thirty seconds. “A beautiful day to be alive for sure. Are you feeling alright?”
“Spectacular!” She said, tears still streaming and grabbed his hand to drag him to their spot at the Gryffindor table. She fixed Harry a heavy plate of chicken and roasted potatoes, knowing they never fed him well at the Dursleys. He gave her a strange look but took the plate, and she had to push back a fresh wave of tears as she looked into his emerald green eyes.
The sorting had begun, but Ginny, Ron, Harry and Hermione were deep in their own conversation, Ginny carefully cleaning the blood off Harry’s face as Hermione shot her a smug look.
“OUCH!” Hermione suddenly yelped, drawing the attention of half the table and a few curious Ravenclaws. The scroll in her pocket was suddenly white hot and burning into the side of her thigh.
“Sorry, um, hit my toe,” she gave the lame excuse and then bolted for the door, ducking into a small alcove before she ripped the paper out of her pocket.
At her touch it immediately cooled and unfurled. A second bullet point was now written under the first.
Step 2: Put on the Sorting Hat
Well it was certainly easier than step one. And what better time to steal the hat than right after the sorting? Maybe it would be easy. The hat could help her like it helped Harry in the Chamber of Secrets. It would give her a sword or an invisibility cloak or, well- something.
Stowing the parchment safely back in her pocket, she cast a quick fire retardant charm on her robes (just in case), and quietly snuck back into the Great Hall. The sorting was nearly finished, they were in the W’s now. Mcgonagal’s clear voice rang out, “Wright, Adam.” Hufflepuff. “Zimmerman, Ashley.” Ravenclaw.
Scattered applause broke out as tables turned hungrily to focus on their meals, when McGonagal cleared her throat and called for silence. There was one more name.
“Hermione Granger.”