Chapter Four- Year I- Burning Stone

The good thing about Hogwarts, Hermione reflected with a private grin, was that there was actually very little supervision or interference with the students' activities. Many could argue that Albus Dumbledore knew everything that went on in his school, but Hermione felt that this was merely a mixture of brilliance and Legilimency.

Hermione realized she should really work on her Occlumency skills if she wanted to keep her secrets to herself.

There was a loud crashing of metal in the hallway down from her. She ducked behind a nearby tapestry and held her breath. Were there other students out past curfew, or was that a Prefect?

Faint laughter rang through the air. Students, then.

She stepped forward cautiously, wand raised in front of her out of habit. Peering around the corner, she observed several pairs of legs peeking out from underneath an Invisibility Cloak. A suit of armor rested in its newly-dismembered state on the floor beside them. The Marauders chose this night out of all nights to wander around the castle past curfew? They weren't being careful about it at all!

"Ahem," Hermione coughed. They obviously had the Map with them, so they knew she was there.

Sirius lifted the Cloak so the boys could disentangle themselves from each other. "Wotcher, Granger," he greeted. "Mind giving us a hand?"

Hermione grabbed the hand that Sirius held out and pulled, helping him to his feet. They each did the same for the other two boys. Peter was in rat form, which was a good choice, as there was hardly enough room under the Cloak for three of them. She observed Remus sneaking the rat into his pocket. Oh, right, she wasn't supposed to know. It was easy to forget that sometimes.

When everyone was on their feet and the suit of armor was replaced in an upright position, Remus quietly asked the inevitable question. "What are you doing out here? It's after curfew, you know."

"Really? I had no idea," she quipped. "I was just dancing around in the moonlight. You?" Her expression hardened once the sarcasm ceased flowing from her lips.

The three exchanged looks before Sirius said, "Just going to the kitchen. Do you want to see?"

She smiled faintly. Of course she knew where the kitchens were, but it would be highly suspicious if she didn't pretend otherwise. "Sure," Hermione replied with a shrug. "That's much better than my plan for the evening."

James, who had been looking on silently, glanced sharply at his best friend, too polite to express his disdain for the idea and for her. Hermione knew anyway. He was much more transparent than he thought he was. His features being Harry's didn't help, Hermione knew them by heart.

"Or not. You'll have much more fun by yourselves," she offered. Normally she would go just to spite James, but she didn't want him to hate her. He wasn't a run of the mill jackass, he was her best friend's father.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at her. "You're going," he announced firmly.

If James didn't speak up, then it was his fault.

"She's right, we would do better if we just left her alone," James said tactfully. Sirius turned to him to argue, consternation written all over his face.

Hermione used their momentary distraction to slip away. This was becoming a pattern.

And now to her actual plan, she thought. Going to the kitchens would certainly be much more fun, if she ignored the glares she was sure to receive, but going to Hogsmeade was without question more important.

A whispered "Dissendium" later, she ducked behind the one-eyed witch's statue , then closed the hole behind her.

The tunnel didn't seem as long as she remembered. Hermione reached the end with no problem, emerging in the Honeyduke's basement.

Having sneaked out of the shop proper, she made her way down the street to the Hog's Head. It would be open now, of course, and packed with patrons.

She was right. A cry arose as the regulars recognized her in the doorway, and she was pushed up to the front. Aberforth inclined his head to her once she reached the bar. Hermione smiled, reaching out for a rag.

"Why are you here?" Aberforth asked calmly as she wiped out glasses. "And how did you manage to get here in the first place? I know you didn't use the gate."

"Mm," she agreed. "I need to talk to you."

"Speak. They're drunk, and no one's up here."

"I'm going after Voldemort," Hermione declared softly, just loud enough to be heard. Before Aberforth could express exactly how idiotic he thought she was, she went on. "Shh. He's going to become a problem. He might not be much right now, but it will build over the next few years until no one can say his name. The bastard is killing people, and recruiting others to kill people, and he's overall just a giant problem that has to be fixed."

Aberforth shook his head. "I'll humor you. How are you planning to do this, then?"

"He has Horcruxes. A Diadem, a Locket, a Cup, a Diary, and a Ring. I've secured one of them, I know how to destroy them, and I know where the others are." The words fell fast from Hermione's lips. This was all very well known between them when they were allies in the future she was working to prevent.

The older man was silent. All motion ceased, and his hands trembled slightly. "Five Horcruxes?"

"He's planning on making one more. Seven parts of his soul. We need him gone before that happens." Good, he understood.

Resuming his work, Aberforth asked, "Is he recruiting from your school?"

Hermione nodded. "He Marks them as soon as they leave school."

"You're right, then. He must be destroyed."

"Yes."

Then, "What do you need?" Steely determination lined his bright blue eyes.

"I know where they are, right? Well, one is in Gringott's, one is in the Malfoy Manor, one is in Little Hangleton, one is in a cave, and one is with me. It's not safe to get them alone, especially the Locket. I would need your help."

"You said you know how to destroy them?"

She nodded.

"Then I'm in." Aberforth paused, then asked, "So how did you get down here?"

Hermione smiled mischievously. "Hogwarts has secret passageways. I used the statue of the one-eyed witch. You might have cause to come through it," she predicted.

"I look forward to it."

*|II8II|*

Lily tugged gently on Hermione's hair. "Oi," she hissed.

Hermione batted her hand away. She hated it when people touched her hair. "What do you want?" she barked, more harshly than she intended.

"Whoa, chill out. We're game for this weekend, right? Hogsmeade, remember?" Lily's grin was bright and happy.

"Yeah," agreed Hermione. "I remember. Sorry." Normally she wouldn't apologize for being abrasive, but that smile made her feel slightly guilty.

The redhead bumped shoulders with her. "That's all right. Are you excited?"

Hermione hadn't really expected that question, but she should have. As far as Lily was aware, she had never been to Hogsmeade. "Definitely," she replied, pasting a smile on her lips that she felt didn't pull up on the edges as much as they should. She really had to learn how to act the part better around Lily.

Being Lily's partner certainly had its advantages. Slughorn looked up several times to see who was talking, only to realize that it was his favorite student. He would settle down into his chair and watch with an indulgent smile.

She and Lily shared a grin. Of course Lily knew about the special privileges she received in this class.

Lily bottled the potion and Hermione Vanished it in a silent ritual they'd developed over the last weeks. They really did work well together.

They each grabbed their bags and left. Severus Snape was watching them with burning eyes, and Lily was pretending not to notice. This was also a routine, obviously one both were familiar with.

"What's the deal with you two?" Hermione asked casually once they were in the hallway. "Or not, if it's a sensitive issue," she added.

The other girl's expression hardened. "We used to be friends, then he called me a- a Mudblood."

"When was this?" Careful, careful, or she'll get angry.

Lily shook her head, and Hermione thought she wasn't going to answer, but she finally said, "Last year. After DADA OWLs. Potter and his guppies were bullying Sev- Snape," she corrected herself furiously. "I went over to stop them, and I guess I hurt his p-pride and he called me- called me that n-name and now we're not friends-"

Hermione pulled Lily into a hug. The normally-cheerful girl was sobbing piteously right there in the hallway, and Hermione was at fault. "I'm sorry, Lil. I shouldn't have asked."

"No," said Lily, wiping at her eyes. "No, it's fine."

"He was your best friend, wasn't he?" Hermione deduced, connecting the dots.

"Yeah." She sniffed. "It wasn't just that he called me that. He was... well, he was friends with the wrong people. Avery, and Mulciber. You know, those Death Eater wannabees? We'd been growing apart for a while. I'd always forgiven him before, but actually insulting me like he did... it was the last straw, you know?"

"I'm sorry."

Then the sunshine came back into Lily's face, forced as it appeared. "No need to be sorry. We've got Ancient Runes next, right?"

Hermione let it go, although she sensed that Lily hadn't gotten all of the toxicity out of her system. "Uh-huh. We're going to be late."

"Run?"

"Sounds like a plan."

*|II8II|*

The Marauders looked up from their chairs in front of the fireplace. This was the first time Hermione had approached them of her own volition, and they were obviously wondering what the matter was.

"Potter," Hermione said, leaning against the arm of Sirius's chair. He looked up at her curiously. "Do you have a moment?"

James's lip curled slightly. "Sure," he drawled.

Hermione waited as he got up and followed her into the corridor outside the Common Room.

"What do you want?" he asked, not bothering to hide his disdain.

"I'm worried about Lily."

"Evans?" he said, startled. His expression changed entirely once she mentioned Lily's name. "Why would you come to me?"

"It's about Severus Snape. There's something with you, him, and her that bothers me. Would you mind telling me?" She took great care with her expression, tone, and body language to make sure that James wouldn't blow up on her.

James furrowed his brow. "Why is that any of your business?"

"Because she's my friend, because she is still really cut up about it, and because I didn't come here to keep my mouth shut. All right? He was her best friend since before she knew what magic was, and now she has to pretend to hate him, but really she just wants everyone to get along. Even you. I've seen her almost go to stop you when you pick on him. Get it? So let's fix it. Help me, please." Hermione's chest was heaving, her breath coming hard, and her eyes were snapping with determination.

The boy in front of her considered her for a moment, for once not acting like she was someone contemptible. Hermione waited patiently for him to speak. His mouth opened and shut several times before he finally said, "All right. For Evans, right?"

"Right."

"Then yes. What do you need?" He ran his hand through his hair nervously.

Hermione smiled briefly. "Firstly, we work in the background. I don't want Lily to think I'm interfering in her life, even if I am. She'll be happier for it. Secondly, leave Snape alone for a while, eh? Then we'll see. Small changes."

James's nose wrinkled, but he nodded.

"Goodnight, then, Potter." She turned and said the password, holding the portrait open for him to go back through before following him.

She hoped her plan wouldn't implode, but she had years before Harry would be born. There was plenty of time.

*|II8II|*

James kept his word, avoiding Snape altogether. It didn't take long for Lily to notice and comment.

"What's up with Potter?" she asked rhetorically, stacking her books to put back on the shelves. "It's been bothering me. Why would he change his habits after so many years?" Lily suddenly paused, looking straight at Hermione. "You didn't say anything to him, did you?" she accused with narrow eyes.

Hermione wasn't surprised she'd come to that conclusion. Lily was unusually intelligent, after all. "Maybe he realized he was being a total douche-bag," Hermione suggested, hoping she wouldn't have to directly lie.

Lily pressed her hands down on top of the stack, leaning forward. "Maybe. I wonder why, though. Oh, no, he's not trying to woo me this way, is he?"

The bushy-haired woman looked up from her book with a raised eyebrow. "Or it could be Lupin. Perhaps he finally grew a backbone. Correct me if I'm wrong, but Potter would do anything for his friends, right? And if Black got behind Lupin on the issue, it's a given." Hermione winced internally, praying Lily wouldn't ask why she seemed just a bit too familiar with their patterns.

She didn't, thankfully. "Yeah," Lily agreed, a smile back on her face. "Yeah, that makes sense. You're probably right, not everything he does is because of me," Lily chastised herself.

"It's fine, Lil. But you don't have to worry anymore, right?" Hermione declared optimistically.

"Sure," said Lily, but Hermione could see the doubt on her face.

*|II8II|*

Now that James didn't openly despise her, the Marauders kept her around a whole lot more often. Hermione suspected that nothing had really changed. James tolerated her because they were working together, and probably hadn't actually altered his opinion of her. Perhaps he just no longer resented her presence.

Sirius placed his arm around her shoulders, startling her. He chuckled like the fetus-bastard he was. Hermione glared up at the boy with infuriatingly perfect hair. Feeling bold, she reached up and mussed it.

Disregarding Sirius's outraged yelps, Hermione smirked and hoisted her bag up on her shoulder. "Don't do that," she explained simply. Contact in general was a giant no-no. Not that she was overly jumpy or sensitive, but she'd never enjoyed it, especially not from near-strangers. Her best friends had hugged her very rarely, respecting her intense need for personal space.

Remus glanced up from his conversation with Peter, shared a brief grin with her, and then went back to ignoring her existence.

The werewolf was odd, all right. He obviously noticed the things that went on around them, but rarely chose to engage. There were subtle reminders that he wasn't actually ignoring her, no matter how he appeared, like an absent-minded pat on Sirius's back when she humiliated him, or that grin. Perhaps he wasn't quite as disinterested as he seemed.

"Some people are trying to pass, you know," drawled a familiar voice. They had indeed stopped moving entirely, plugging up the hallway. Hermione moved aside wordlessly, but she was the only one. She looked up curiously and found that the voice belonged to none other than Severus Snape.

Praying fervently that James wouldn't choose now to be a complete douche, Hermione poked him lightly in the back.

James seemed to remember himself. "Sure," he said. "We'll go."

The rest of the Marauders looked on in shock as he began walking in the direction of their next class, Hermione falling in step beside him. They didn't see her grin, or the mouthed "Good job!"

*|II8II|*

"Come on, Hermione! Why are you being so slow?" Lily called, drawing out the vowel in "slow".

Hermione grumbled her way up the path to her friend. It was the first Hogsmeade weekend, and it seemed like everyone but Hermione was absolutely thrilled.

"Where do you want to go first?" asked Lily. "Zonko's is fun when Potter and his twits aren't there. I don't think we should go there first, or we'll meet them. Honeyduke's is great, too, but we'll be tempted to buy things. The Shrieking Shack is only really fun the first time you see it, because they don't let you in and nothing really happens. A lot of people end up making out down there, so I wouldn't suggest that. Maybe the Three Broomsticks is our best bet."

Hermione looked around before her eyes fell on the building she'd seen when she first arrived, Harry's. "What about that one?" she asked, pointing to it.

Lily paused. "Oh, that's the one they've been building all summer! You're right, let's go there first!" Lily set off towards it, and Hermione followed hurriedly, wrapping her robes tighter around herself.

"What kind of place do you think this is?" asked Lily, her hand hesitating on the door.

"I believe we can rule out brothel," Hermione suggested. "Let's go in and find out." She was no fan of stupid questions.

Lily pushed open the door, and a bell trilled inside the place. The pair were faced with shelves upon shelves of books. "A library?" she mused aloud.

Hermione shook her head. "No, a bookstore." She strode up to one of the nearest shelves, running a finger along the pristine spines. "Selling Muggle books. We're in the fiction section."

"Oh, Hermione, look!" cried Lily exultantly. "Science books! I've been dying to get my hands on some of these!"

After several further minutes of exploration, Lily found yet another door. There were no signs that the room beyond was off-limits, but neither was it propped open to allow patrons to go through.

"Probably just a loo," said Lily, pushing the door open.

It was not a bathroom, however. This was another room with even more books, these ones magical. Rare ones, too. Hermione and Lily were both thrilled to find that most of the books weren't in the Hogwarts library. Hermione smiled as she found an entire section dedicated to time travel.

And then Hermione found another door. She opened it without hesitation, Lily following with a puzzled look on her face.

These books were Dark. Darker than anything Hermione had ever read. She didn't even need to read the titles to know it, there was just an energy radiating from them that was equally seductive as terrifying. "Don't. Touch. Anything," Hermione ordered, moving forward cautiously.

"What? Why?" asked Lily.

"Dark books often have curses put on them, curses that- well, you get the idea." Hermione shivered. "Let's just see if there's another door, but don't look at any of the books."

Hermione skirted around a shelf. This room seemed so long...

Suddenly, a door appeared in front of her. Hermione reached up to turn the knob-

"How may I help you?" A voice appeared behind them. Hermione started violently.

She turned around to see a man in a Muggle suit. His hair was thick and black, swept back so that it was out of his face. His eyes were piercing and blue, so pale that Hermione could hardly make out the iris.

"Good morning," Hermione greeted. "We're still exploring, not really looking for anything in particular."

"I see," said the man. "Are you two finding everything to your satisfaction?"

Hermione glanced at the other girl. Lily was standing silently with a slack expression and a glassy look in her eyes. "Did you do that to her?" asked Hermione, ignoring the man's question.

"Yes," he replied simply.

"Light witch?"

"Yes. She was never supposed to be here. No Light wizards make it past the second room."

"I see," Hermione said. "But since I found the door..."

"She was able to follow you, yes. You are not Light, but not Dark either."

The time-traveler considered. "I am Grey, I guess."

"Grey," mused the man. "Grey wizards are more rare than one would think."

"That's news to me, but I suppose it makes sense. What is your name, anyway?"

The man twitched slightly. "I am Keane, Grey witch. Dyson Keane."

She smiled. "I'm Hermione Granger, and that's Lily Evans." Neither made a move to shake hands.

Keane turned to gesture behind him. "This is my business, Hermione Granger," he declared.

"Congratulations," said Hermione dryly. "Why isn't it named after you?"

"Just-" Keane paused, "-a reminder of my past."

Hermione nodded. "None of my business then. I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's fine." Keane nodded, tone stiff once more. Hermione hadn't realized that it had become much more casual.

She felt a brief sense of loss as she started back on square one. "I'm assuming that if you can find a door, you can go through it? Like this one?" She touched a finger to the door.

"Yes, that's about right. Most people don't make it to this room, much less the one beyond."

"How many rooms are there?" Hermione asked.

"More than you can get to, although you can get to the first few."

Hermione frowned. "Like what?"

Keane waved his hand vaguely. "There's a room for pretty much everything. As a Grey witch, you can access more than either a Light or Dark wizard can, but you are still only human. House elves, for example, have their own room, and most books have literacy spells woven into them, so even if one is never taught their letters, they can still understand the words. This spell also translates the written language to whatever language the reader is most familiar with."

"Sounds brilliant," breathed Hermione. "What would this next room be, then?"

"The shop knows, not me. Why don't you find out?" Keane's expression was nonchalant, but his eyes sparked with excitement.

"I thought you implied...?"

The shopkeeper shook his head. "No, Granger. It isn't linear by any means; after all, what if a room should be accessible to you but you are not accepted by the one before? You go around, of course. See?"

She nodded, confusion gone. Hermione opened the door with very little flourish, not sure what she'd find within.

The room was plain and nearly empty, except for the stool in the center of the floor. There was something resting on the seat, and Hermione moved closer to see what it was. The object glittered sharply, refracting light onto the walls. Hermione felt her heart beating faster. A smooth purple stone sat innocently on the seat.

"Er..." said Hermione incoherently. "What is it?"

Keane's expression was entirely too confused for it to be genuine. "I don't know. I suppose you'll just have to find out." His wicked grin made Hermione scowl.

She picked up the stone anyway, and it was unnaturally warm. She smiled down at the colorful object, noticing that it had streaks of blues and greens and reds as well. There were next to no lumps in the exterior, and it was almost perfectly round. It was truly beautiful.

"Perhaps you should acquaint yourself with it," Keane suggested, in a way that made it perfectly plain that it was not a suggestion. "After all, there must be a reason the shop gave it to you." The condescending smile that went along with his words made Hermione want to hit him.

"Fine," she said neutrally, reigning in her immature desires. She swept out of the room and pulled Lily out of the Dark room.

Chapter Three- Year I- Crumbled Foundations

"Miss Granger, the Welcoming Feast was mandatory for all students." Minerva stood in front of her, seeming more exasperated than annoyed.

Hermione squinted up at her, trying to banish the last remnants of sleep from her mind. She pushed herself up onto one elbow, feeling her weight sink into the well-worn couch. "Why? The schedules are handed out at breakfast, right?" She looked around the dimly-lit Common Room, realizing that they weren't alone. She'd completely missed the arrival of the other students, which had been the plan. Wait, if it was their first night back, and they were just now coming back from the Welcoming Feast, then why was Minerva there at all? Hermione remembered from reading Hogwarts, a History that the prefects always led the students back to their respective Common Rooms. This was to cement the idea from day one that the prefects were a benevolent authority. Having a teacher, and especially the Head of House, break that tradition surely lessened the effect. As curious as she was, asking questions weren't feasible. Allowing the others to become aware that she had intimate knowledge of the inner workings of Hogwarts and the psychological effects of aforementioned machinations would lead to queries about her background. It was far too early to err so colossally and unnecessarily.

Minerva raised one eyebrow and the side of her pinched mouth curved upwards, an expression that Hermione had come to recognize as well-concealed amusement. She did have a reputation to uphold as lacking completely in any sense of humor. "That is correct. However, you would have been presented, as every student is on their first day."

"It's too late for that now," Hermione said, sitting up. She rubbed at the side of her calf where the pattern of the couch cushions had been imprinted in her skin. "I'll go next year." The last two words were stretched out into a yawn, becoming nearly unintelligible.

Minerva seemed to get the gist. "I will hold you to that, Miss Granger. Have you eaten?"

Oh. The truth was, Hermione hadn't eaten at all since the day before. She knew it wasn't healthy, and it definitely didn't provide necessary brainpower. Her childhood, it had occurred to her in the past, had prepared her for the war. When she was younger, she skipped countless meals because she just had to finish reading. When she became involved in the war, she skipped meals because there just wasn't enough food. Hunger was a staple of the times. Even having been in safer times for several months, old habits were hard to do away with. Still, she'd been asleep until just then, so she supposed it didn't matter all that much in the long run. "No, but I'm fine. I'll just go to breakfast in the morning."

The Transfiguration professor did not seem at all satisfied by that, but she still allowed it. "Go sleep in your dormitory, Miss Granger. It can get noisy down here, especially on the first night back."

Hermione knew all that, of course, and was struggling not to allow memories to overlay the image in front of her. It was safer to go up to her dorm; there were fewer memories, fewer distractions, and fewer questions up there. "Goodnight, Mi- Professor."

Classes began the next day, and Hermione forced herself into a sort of waking-dream state. That way, she would not be overwhelmed with the emotions that came with the memories. It also happened to be the easiest way to avoid the people she'd once known in the future, although that was an unintentional, if happy, outcome. Turning off her emotions was a coping mechanism that she used whenever a situation threatened to overwhelm her. She'd used it many times over the years. The downside was that when she decided it was safe to allow her emotions to come back, she would overload and spend several weeks struggling to rediscover her equilibrium. It wouldn't be uncommon for her to break down in tears or laughter over seemingly insignificant things. Constant irritation and intolerance strove to find balance with empathy and guilt. Hermione knew that during these times she was difficult to be around, and that that fact only gave her mind material to latch onto in order to cut away at her self-esteem. However, being a practical and level-headed person, she could usually counter such negativity with recollections of situations in which she'd helped others.

Even though no one bothered with her, everyone was curious about the new girl. Many were contemptuous, having no patience for someone who wouldn't even try to act normal. Others pestered her with questions over and over, as if she might answer if asked often enough. She gave no answers, which was easier than lying. Some took the hint and backed off, but others were only driven mad with unfulfilled curiosity.

Once a few weeks had passed, Hermione decided it was safe to allow her consciousness to awaken fully. She remained quiet, for no one expected her to speak and she didn't know what effect she'd have on the timeline if she were to make too large of an impact, but she was thinking- and feeling- properly and taking in her surroundings again.

It was several more weeks after her initial revival before the rest of the school was made aware. They were in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Gryffindor and Slytherin. Hermione ignored the chatter around her entirely, focusing intermittently on the lesson.

"Tell me- what weaknesses do the Inferi possess, and how can such weaknesses be exploited?" the professor quizzed, actually glancing away from the board for the first time during the entire class. Habit almost made her hand fly up, but Hermione caught herself and looked around.

There were no hands fluttering in the air. Everyone was still.

Lily Evans was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, her eyebrows furrowed, trying desperately to come up with the answer. Her frustration was evident. It was no surprise; where would a girl like Lily even hear of the existence of Inferi, much less what they were and how to defeat them?

The time-traveler sighed, a steady release of air from her lungs. She raised her hand halfway, slowly, mimicking the casual manner of the other students.

"Yes? Miss Garner?" called the professor. There was a smile on his face that Hermione took to be one of relief.

Ignoring the man's misuse of her surname, she said, "The Inferi are creatures of the cold and dark, and are immune to many spells. However, they are vulnerable when exposed to light and warmth, so fire spells are very effective when defending against Inferi. En masse, they are extremely dangerous due to their superior strength. While not impervious to damage, they feel no pain and are afraid only of light and heat. It's best to cast spells like Firestorm to drive off a large group, or simple a simple Incendio to deal with a few."

The silence was complete, unnerving Hermione. It wasn't one of admiration or even surprise. Her eyes darted around the room, trying to interpret the expressions of the other students. It didn't take long, for such looks were familiar to her. During her years with Harry she'd witnessed suspicion and fear, on the micro and macro scale. Very rarely had these emotions been directed at her, and that in itself was new. Hermione shifted in her seat, struggling to act as if she didn't notice or care. She wasn't sure whether she had succeeded.

"Excellent, excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," the man coughed. What was his name again? It started with a C or a K or something similar.

Hermione spent the time until the end of class tapping her fingers in a random pattern on her desk, oblivious to the curious gazes focused on her just then.

The professor looked up from the board, where he was writing down some tidbit of information that Hermione already knew. "Miss Granger?"

Still mindlessly tapping on the desk, she mumbled a response.

"Stay after, please. The rest of you may go."

Hermione came to stand beside Kablan's desk, nervously waiting for the room to clear. The chatter was subdued and, it seemed to Hermione, malicious. Ignoring it was impossible.

Kablan looked straight at Hermione, maintaining eye contact. He somehow managed to make her more uncomfortable than she already was. "I see you've taken my suggestion to heart. I hope to see this as a continued pattern, not merely a one-time event."

What suggestion? This had obviously occurred during her waking-dream weeks.

"Yes, Professor," she agreed. Calm, she reminded herself.

"Good. Now, where did you learn what you said a few moments ago?"

"A book, Professor."

"Not the textbook."

"No, Professor."

"What book, then?"

"I don't recall."

She did recall. Never mind Hermione's personal experience with the Inferi, she'd learned about them in The Thin Line Between Defense Against the Dark Arts and the Dark Arts, a tome she'd come across in her grief over Minerva's death.

Hermione really had to remember not to call her that.

Professor Kablan sighed. "Very well. Please inform me if you ever remember."

"I will, Professor."

It occurred to Hermione, walking back to the Common Room, that Professor Kablan had asked that question without first introducing the topic, and without elaborating. Hadn't she just told herself that it was too early to mess up? One would think she would consider the consequences of her actions, being well known for doing exactly that. She should have kept her know-it-all mouth shut.

Tongues were wagging in the Great Hall during lunch that day. Hermione frowned; she hadn't intended to cause a commotion, but intentions didn't change anything. That wasn't her purpose.

Sitting cautiously in an empty section of the bench at the Gryffindor table, Hermione marked the position of every person in the room. Today was different, she knew, and not in a good way.

The people pressed in around her, and Hermione found it hard to breathe. They were talking about her, or was that just her imagination? It wasn't. She already knew it wasn't.

Mid-bite, a shaggy-haired boy popped into the space next to her and placed his arm around her shoulder. Hermione jumped, nearly choking on her sandwich. "Get off of me," she snarled, inadvertently expressing all of her dread and nervous energy in that one phrase.

He hastily removed his arm, using the motion to brush back his hair. Clearly her tone was enough to intimidate even him. This was a sixteen-year-old Sirius Black, and James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew had appeared around him like a fan of shadows. Room had silently been made for them. They were big shots, apparently. Hermione remembered Harry telling her something about that.

She could have sworn that she heard someone hiss, "Bitch," but she may have been mistaken. Her hearing was excellent, so somehow she doubted it.

Sirius cleared his throat, smiling winningly. "Wotcher," he said. "My name is Sirius Black. Hermione Granger, right?"

Hermione muttered a confirmation, then scolded herself internally. The poor boy was greeting her, and he may be flirting too, but for Merlin's sake, that was absolutely no reason to be rude! She knew full well that Sirius flirted with anyone, probably even his worst enemies.

"Nice to meet you, Black. Who are you all, then?" She was referring, of course, to the rest of the Marauders.

Introductions were made, and Hermione stepped up the politeness, feeling slightly guilty for the horrid first impression she'd probably left them with.

James Potter was a bit cold, if unfailingly gallant. The look in his eyes when Hermione leaned over Sirius to shake his hand was definitely one of contempt. Hermione wanted to glare back. He was nothing like the Harry she'd known.

Remus Lupin was surprisingly beautiful. If he hadn't been bitten, he would have definitely been drop-dead gorgeous. Hermione was surprised, and a bit sad for her old friend. If it had taken this much of a toll on his appearance, she could only imagine how much it affected him emotionally and mentally. His handshake was firm and warm, and he smiled back at her before dissolving into disinterest as soon as she stopped looking at him.

Hermione was prepared to hate Peter Pettigrew immediately. She wanted to look at him and see the vile rat right there at the surface, only looking out for himself. Instead, she saw a sweet-looking, pudgy boy with a nervous face and adoration perpetually shining in his eyes. His grip was sweaty, and Hermione surreptitiously wiped her hand off on her robes once he let go. She mustered a smile for him, which Pettigrew returned. Perhaps she should reserve judgement, in this instance. She wondered what it was that transformed that boy into the traitorous man he would become, and whether she could change things.

The company was welcome, which surprised her. They were obviously wary of her, and likely only associating with her because of the new and interesting rumors surrounding her. They didn't pester her with questions and they cheered her up with their antics, though she knew they weren't meant for her benefit, so she supposed she could tolerate them. Just for one meal.

*|II8II|*

She met Lily Evans in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Of course, they'd known each other's names, but had never exchanged introductions or words.

"Lily Evans, nice to meet you."

"Hermione Granger."

They were paired together, trading simple spells that Hermione had mastered in her third year. Lily hardly seemed challenged, either, and they shared a grin.

Hermione was thrilled. Her magic was back, if only partially. It was about time, too.

"What do you say," Hermione whispered conspiratorially, "we step it up a notch or two?"

Lily agreed heartily, and they spent the rest of the class laughing out loud at the strange, obscure charms and jinxes they threw at each other.

Until one of Hermione's failed, of course, and then she felt like crying, because she'd wasted the magic she had. How could she be so idiotic? Of course her magic wasn't back! She would be lucky if it came back at all, after this.

Still, Hermione had to plaster the grin back on her face. Fortunately, Lily hadn't noticed that Hermione's spell had failed.

"Good game," Lily grinned, and from then on, she insisted on pulling Hermione everywhere with her. It felt good to have a friend again, even one as high-strung as Lily Evans.

*|II8II|*

Professor McGonagall turned to the rows of desks, and Hermione observed her face. She had the usual stern countenance, although much younger, only about forty or so. Her hair was no longer a steel grey, but a rich ebony color, doubtless well on its way to its eventual hue.

"Good morning, class. We've studied the theory behind nonverbal spells for the past few days. Now we shall begin to put this into practice. The same will occur in your Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. I have set a match on every desk. It is your task to change it into a needle, as you did in your first year. This time, however, the spell must be nonverbal. Are we understood?" The professor looked around the room for any possible confusion before saying, "Proceed."

Staring plaintively at the match, Hermione weighed her options. The nonverbal part wasn't a problem, of course, it was the spell. Her magic still hadn't returned, and she couldn't risk the spell not working in such a public place.

Eventually, she raised her hand, hoping against hope that she could make Minerva- Professor McGonagall- understand.

McGonagall took one look at the wavering hand and said, "The Headmaster has informed all of the teachers of your situation, Miss Granger. If you would read your Transfiguration textbook instead?"

Ignoring the curious stares and the fact that she'd read it so many times she knew the chapters in order and most of it could be recited verbatim, Hermione pulled out her textbook and started on page one.

*|II8II|*

Sometimes Hermione hated Quidditch.

It was the Saturday a week after getting out of the Hospital Wing, and it was raining hard. She shielded her eyes and glared through the heavy drops at the sky. There were flashes of the crimson from the Gryffindor uniforms, reasonably bright against the dark storm clouds, and occasionally Hermione could make out the canary yellow of Hufflepuff, muted as it was.

That was it, though. She could hardly hear the commentary. In short, she'd come out here for nothing.

How could anyone enjoy this?

If it were Harry up there on his broom, she would have stuck around and shown support, no matter how miserable the conditions. As it was, her presence made no difference to anyone. Hermione stood, weaving her way around legs and bags, before finally getting down from the stands. She'd drawn several indignant and curious stares from the people she passed, all of which she ignored.

Hogwarts was very different when it was empty. The noise outside contrasted strongly with the thick, ringing silence inside the stone castle.

Now would be a most excellent time to get some work done.

Robes swishing after her, Hermione ran up several flights of stairs to the seventh floor. She passed in front of the wall three times, focusing on her need to get to the place where lost things are hidden. Harry had told her where the Diadem was after his sixth year, but he had no idea where he'd grabbed it from. Suppressing a groan, Hermione used the time in which she would not be missed as best she could, but the room was too large. Several hours of methodical search yielded no results.

The game would be over, now, Hermione realized, glancing at her watch. It was past dark.

With a sigh, Hermione decided that the room was simply too expansive to search all in one go. She would come back later that night, search until morning if she had to.

For now, though, she needed to make an appearance at dinner. She had no doubt that she was watched.

Dinner was a tedious affair. Hermione found herself wishing for more enlightening conversation than she was surrounded by; even if it wasn't with her, just something interesting to listen to. Nothing changed.

She left early, headed to the Come-and-Go Room, and continued the search for the Diadem. Hermione spotted the Horcrux mere moments after walking into the room resigned to a long night.

"Yes!" the time traveler whooped triumphantly, doing a small victory dance. Why not? No one was there!

Her joy subsided once more. Hermione unwrapped her scarf from around her neck and wrapped the Diadem in it, careful not to touch it with her bare skin. Two Horcruxes down in just a month and a half, not bad. Not bad at all.

*|II8II|*

Sirius jabbed her in the back, square between her shoulder blades. Hermione ignored him, and he did it again, this time in her side. Her body twisted involuntarily in an effort to get away from his finger.

How was Professor Kablan not noticing this? Ah, yes, he was at his desk, completely oblivious to anything going on in his classroom.

It was the third invasion of her personal space that caused her to acknowledge him, a tug on her hair.

"What do you want?" Hermione snarled, not turning around to look at the boy sitting directly behind her.

"Nothing," Sirius whispered back, and Hermione could hear the smirk in his voice. Closing her eyes and reciting the Greek alphabet mentally, Hermione suffered herself to being poked and prodded until class was over.

Gathering her books, Hermione looked up to see James Potter scowling behind an evil-faced Sirius, Remus Lupin next to him looking as if he wanted to leave without them, and Peter Pettigrew, gazing at her with wide and slightly glossy eyes.

"What do you want?" she asked once more, managing to keep her tone mostly civil.

"Come on," Sirius replied. "You're taking forever."

Hermione didn't want to walk with the obnoxious group, but it seemed she had little choice. Glancing behind her as she was dragged out of the room, Hermione caught the grin on the face of her DADA Professor. Not quite so oblivious, then.

They were loud, which she'd known and expected, and they left her alone to feel uncomfortable, which she was grateful for, although she suspected it had more to do with genuine disinterest on the parts of James and Remus than an effort to be courteous.

James didn't seem overly glad of her presence, which made her feel bitter. He was Harry's father, after all, and they looked extremely similar, so it was almost like being ignored by Harry.

Why had she been brought along again?

The Marauders were a single unit, and there was no room for her. Peter hadn't stopped looking at her, otherwise she would have slipped off into a different corridor. What class were they even going to? Unless they all took Arithmancy, there was no reason for her to tag along with them.

She did turn, then, at the next fork. Peter didn't say anything, which was surprising, although he did seem puzzled. He'd been the only one who'd noticed that she had gone.

Arithmancy was her favorite class, even if she'd taken it before. There was nothing truly set in the curriculum, and the topic could easily be led into something much more advanced than she had any right knowing. She wouldn't talk with the professor during class, as it was understood that no one else really enjoyed the subject, instead electing to waste her lunchtime discussing the magic of Arithmancy with her Professor.

Indeed, she once again observed the vacant stares of her classmates during class. Professor Regent had long since been resigned to it, but it aggravated Hermione.

Her own attention was fixed on the board and the instructor, as was her wont. Hermione only realized later that Remus Lupin did, in fact, take the class, and she was slightly embarrassed for practically running away.

*|II8II|*

"Perhaps," Lily announced in Potions, turning around to face the bushy-haired time-traveler, "you and I should go to Hogsmeade together. You've never been there, right? What do you think?" Her happy grin left very little room for refusal, and Hermione didn't have anything better to do, anyway.

"Sounds fine to me," she replied carefully. Alienating Lily was the last thing she wanted to do so early in the game.

The redhead's smile only got wider, and Hermione noticed that her teeth were incredibly white and perfect. She rubbed her mouth absently, remembering buck teeth. Thank Merlin for Draco Malfoy.

Her eyes travelled further to finally land on Severus Snape. Was it just her, or were his eyes fixed on Lily and her dazzling- well, everything? She filed this information away to ponder later. She looked away before the boy could notice her staring.

Lily probably had many more admirers than just James Potter and Severus Snape. She was a truly enchanting girl, and Hermione's self-esteem took a hit every time she looked at her. It didn't matter too much, anyway, because Lily would end up with James and would birth Harry Potter, a wonderful boy who looked like his father.

She had her doubts regarding the redeeming qualities of the father in question, but that was really none of her business. He was sixteen, after all.

"Hermione? Are you all right?" Lily's worried face hovered in front of Hermione's.