7,297Chapter Two
June 18, 1971
11:54 pm
An army of tiny elves beating pots and pans together in her head woke Hermione up from the peace of unconsciousness. Or at least that seemed to be the only excuse she could figure out to explain her pounding headache. The average human head weighed about eleven pounds, but she was absolutely certain her head must be thrice that heavy at least. She carefully opened her heavy eyelids to reacquaint herself with her surroundings.
Except she was positive she had never been inside that room before. The walls were covered in dark paneling, smoke stains littered the ceiling. While the mattress she was lying on wasn't terribly comfortable, the warm, handmade quilt covering her brought back happy memories of weekends spent with her Grannie Granger. A lingering mixture of odd smells that seemed almost to be a combination of fire whiskey and feta assaulted her nose. She couldn't remember how she ended up in the strange, but cozy bedroom. Fears of the unknown encouraged her to attempt to sit up. Warm hands gently pushed her back down before she made any hint of progress.
"Careful there, lass. You really struck your head. Best not to move too much just yet."
She was able to turn her cumbersome head slightly just enough to take in the form of Aberforth Dumbledore seated on the edge of her bed. Something about him seemed odd, however. Seemed off. Hermione blinked her eyes multiple times to cut back on the wooziness she was experiencing and to attempt to bring him into focus. He seemed different from their earlier walk by the lake and from her visit to his pub. It required several more determined blinks before she realized his beard was less full than it had been and more black than gray. How was it possible that the lines around his twinkling eyes seemed less deep? Had he taken some kind of youth regenerating potion she was unaware of? He looked almost fifty years younger than he had earlier in the evening.
A more realistic explanation for why he appeared different was simply that Hermione was finally losing her mind. Long considered her finest asset, she had always been afraid that one day her sanity and logic would simply begin to slip through her fingers like sand. Perhaps all of the strain and stress she'd been under the past few years made her worse nightmare a frightening reality.
"What happened, Mr. Dumbledore?"
She was afraid of his answer.
"I was hoping you might be able to enlighten me. What do you remember last?"
Hermione struggled to remember all of the details. The pain coursing through her head was making all coherent thought damn near impossible. Bits and pieces of the time spent in the main room of the Hog's Head slowly began to piece themselves together. She remembered moving to the private area of the building after the Minister left.
"We were sitting in the room with Ariana's portrait and you were showing me a photo album. You asked me to forgive you before you put a chain over my head."
She was astonished that the more she revealed, the clearer the details became. Maybe she wasn't losing her mind after all.
"What happened when the chain was placed around your neck?"
"The room began to spin and I fell."
Hermione noticed the wizard seated on the edge of the unfamiliar bed appeared conflicted. Once she gave her limited details of the truly bizarre evening she had just experienced, Aberforth dropped his eyes to his hands. There was something in those calloused hands that captured his attention. A few tense minutes passed before he held up one of his hands to allow a gold chain to slip between his long fingers. She gasped when the object dangling at the end of the ornate and most likely costly chain came into focus.
"Is that a time turner?" she asked in a whisper.
Aberforth sighed, his eyes trained on the old bits and bobs swinging back and forth.
"Appears to be. Never seen one up close before. Read about them in a book once. You ever used one before, lass?"
He held the time turner out to hold. She was more than just a little bit nervous about holding another one in her hand. The moment she made the decision to turn hers back over to Professor McGonagall at the end of her third year, she swore to herself she would never touch one again. Too much messing about with time was dangerous. While she was still grateful for the opportunity to save an innocent man from the Dementor's Kiss, she didn't care for the power that handling such a powerful relic could provide. Time should be treated with more respect than that.
She carefully examined the intricate time turner in her hand. While it was similar to her old one in many ways, the sand within its glass was a completely different color. Minuscule purple grains twinkled in the shadowy light of the fire. Whatever their properties were, it was obvious that the difference in the color must be at least part of the reason why she was able to move back in time years, instead of hours. Her mind was still grappling with the fact that she had moved through time at all. Aberforth's drastic change in appearance was startling. Around the edge of the turner was an inscription. In the dim light it was impossible to read it clearly. Hermione removed her wand from her pocket to cast a weak lumos.
"'Till a' the seas gang dry'."
"Robert Burns," Aberforth explained. "The Scottish poet."
Hermione tried to remember everything she knew about Muggle poetry. She had very little knowledge to her great disappointment. There had always been much more fascinating subjects and topics to explore once she learned she was a witch. With her limited knowledge about Aberforth Dumbledore as well, she was quite surprised to learn that he was familiar with Muggle poets. Her countenance must have given away her incredulity. Aberforth chuckled.
"I may not seem the type, lass, but I do read," he said, his low chuckle making her smile. "And you don't live in Scotland for almost eighty years without learning who the Bard of Ayrshire was. Peculiar line to engrave."
"Why? What does it mean?"
Hermione was not one to turn down an opportunity to learn when it was freely offered. Not even when she was in a strange room with a practical stranger unaware of even what year she was in.
"One of his most famous love poems. 'And I will luve thee still, my dear / Till a' the seas gang dry'."
Hermione couldn't understand why anyone would take the time to inscribe a time turner with lines from an old poem. She ran her fingers over the inscription as if touch would make it all clear. Aberforth's earlier question about whether or not she had ever used a time turner still hung in the air. Hermione wasn't sure if she should answer or not about her use during school. Before she was allowed its use, she was required to make a promise she would never tell anyone, but Professor Dumbledore was dead and Harry and Professor McGonagall already knew. She couldn't really see the harm if one more person knew about her past.
"Yes, sir. I used one in my third year at Hogwarts to help me take extra classes."
Aberforth was angry at her confession, but he took strides to remain as calm as possible. Only the clenching of his jaw proved he was upset.
"You mean my brother allowed a child to use a dangerous magical artifact like this so you could attend extra classes?"
Hermione could only nod her head in the affirmative. She did not have anything else to add. It had been a poor decision on the Headmaster's part. A great deal could have gone wrong if it had fallen into anyone else's hands.
"You don't look like a third year. How old are you? Still in school?"
"I will be nineteen in September, but I never had my seventh year because of the war."
As soon as the words tumbled out of her mouth, she wished she could pull them back. She realized too late that perhaps she shouldn't have mentioned the war. It was not safe for her to reveal too much about the future. Aberforth rolled his eyes.
"You think I'm daft, lass? I can sense a war coming. You're not telling me anything I don't already know. Is it a bloody, long one?"
"Yes, sir. Both."
"Of course it is. That's what happened when a couple of muckety muck wizards think they knew better than the rest of us common folk. I don't even have to ask. This has the stink of my brother all over it."
Hermione was unsure of what to say. In her third year she read every single book about time travel that she could get her hands on. There, unfortunately, weren't that many. Some theorized that time was linear, others that time was a loop. A few offered the theory of alternate realities that only served to make Hermione's head hurt. But one thing they all agreed on was that it was unwise and possibly detrimental to reveal too much about the future. Irrevocable changes could be made if a time traveler was not cautious.
She was also surprised that Aberforth seemed to be taking her word that she had travelled back in time with his older counterpart's assistance. She would have imagined he would have been harder to convince. After all, it's likely not every day that an unconscious teenage girl shows up in your parlor claiming to be from the future.
"Did you have an accident with that thing? Fall or something hit it?'
Hermione shook her head.
"No, sir. It's not even mine. You were the one who put it around my neck. I mean, not you, but older you."
Aberforth removed an envelope from his pocket. It had already been opened. He put a pair of glasses on that made him look even more like a raven haired facsimile of his older brother to read a thick letter.
"Why would you have done that, sir?" Hermione asked, still bewildered by the events.
Aberforth groaned at her question before peering over the top of his glasses.
"First, quit calling me 'sir' like I'm some bleeding professor. You want one of those, you go up the path to the castle and find my brother. Second, I wouldn't know why I did, err, will do something in the future, now will I?"
A sudden influx of emotion made Hermione's tired eyes fill up with burning tears. She was so lost as to what she should do. Never before had she been as frightened as she was of the unknown. Not wishing her host to think her some weak, swoon-prone female, she attempted to hide her tears. Aberforth was not fooled. He conjured a clean handkerchief for her and gently pat her hand.
"There, there, child. We'll get this all sorted out. 1971 hasn't been the worst of years. I imagine it's similar to…" He peered closer at the parchment. "…1998."
Hermione's stomach lurched and breathing became much more difficult. She could not believe that the time turner took her back in time twenty-seven years! She did not even understand how that was even possible. Her old time turner could not go back any further than five hours. Maybe the difference in the sand color was what determined how far back she could travel. Memories of the day that had come to be known as the Battle of the Department of Mysteries popped into her mind. The never-ending loop of the time turners falling effectively made the entire stock of time turners in the Ministry completely useless. Maybe one of those time turners had been capable of moving back in time more than just a few hours. Could someone within the Department of Mysteries have figured out a way to end the endless loop? There were so many questions that seemed to have no answers.
"What are you reading?" she asked, curious what had the wizard's attention.
"There was a letter addressed to me in your pocket. Thought you were a messenger at first, but couldn't understand how you ended up passed out in my parlor. I would've remembered serving a young woman like you too much alcohol in the main room. Found the letter when I was looking for some identification."
"This is all so bizarre. How do you even trust it? I'm not sure I trust my own sanity at this point."
"It was sealed to be opened only by me. It's a spell I created in school. No one else could have known it. Also, old codger me put in some bits of trivia that no one else would believe. Even put in here a description of how I spent my evening earlier and I know no one else could know could know that."
Hermione's curiosity was piqued.
"What were you doing earlier?"
His cheeks flushed.
"Never you mind! The envelope also had a weightless and undetectable extension charm on it. Found a fancy pensieve inside and a few memories that were or will be mine."
All of that was inside the single envelope she had in her pocket? Kingsley had given it to her to take up to the castle. He must have known that she would never make it out of the pub that night. Both of the wizards were in on the conspiracy. She began to feel a bubble of anger towards the Minister simmer inside her. How dare he take it upon himself to force such a drastic change to her life? And forcing Aberforth to take part? She knew that Kingsley had access to what would be needed to undertake such a complicated endeavor. There was no telling what kinds of magical artifacts and knowledge the Minister for Magic could access.
Hermione just could not understand why he would plan with Aberforth to send her back in time twenty-seven years. Was she supposed to change something? The war was over where they lived. The threat of Voldemort was once and forever gone. What could they possibly gain by having her thrown out of her own lifetime? She had more questions than answers. In that moment all she wanted to do was return to the future and give the Minister a piece of her mind. She was not a pawn to be moved about the chess board at his leisure. Kingsley would have a great deal of explaining to do when she got home. If she ever got home.
"Do you know how I can get back?"
Aberforth seemed reluctant to answer her seemingly simple question. Hermione was nervous that that must mean she was doomed to remain stuck in the past forever. By the time she returned to her normal time, she would already be forty-eight years old! She would be almost forty when her other self began Hogwarts. Assuming of course that she could exist in the same timeline as her baby self. Would she disappear on September 19, 1979 when her mother gave birth? There were so many unknowns her head was hurting even more just contemplating them. Despite her efforts to hide her tears, they continued to slide down her cheeks.
"Letter says that you disappear at Christmastime in 1980, but no one knows what happened to you," Aberforth explained, looking for some information he could give that might calm her down.
Of course that was the worst possible news she could have received. No one knew what happened to her? How could she just disappear? Hermione couldn't breathe. Not only was she going to be stuck in the past for nine years, but she wasn't even sure what was going to happen to her. The very real possibility that she was going to die in the past made her stomach churn. History was full of disappearances in 1980. Apparently she was doomed to be just another one. No one knew what happened to so many during the height of the first war. Even Aberforth's own daughter disappeared without a trace.
She wondered why Kingsley even bothered to send her in the past. The Minister for Magic was obviously the leader behind this horrible plan. Maybe he thought Hermione could find his lost love. She hoped there was more of an explanation in the letter Aberforth wrote himself. There had to be some kind of plan. Kingsley would not have forced the younger Dumbledore brother to do something so dangerous without a valid reason.
"What else does the letter say?"
Aberforth was reluctant once again to answer. Albus wasn't the only Dumbledore with a penchant for keeping secrets.
"I've told myself to keep all of the contents of this letter private. I shouldn't have told you that part about your disappearance."
"Do you explain how I can get back to my own time?"
"No, I'm afraid I don't know. All I know is you are to keep the time turner with you at all times. You must keep it out of the hands of anyone who would use it for the wrong purpose. Keep it with you, lass, at all times. Show it to no one."
He was fairly empathetic in his instructions to keep the time turner secret. Hermione thought it unnecessary. She had already had a similar conversation with Professor McGonagall years earlier.
"Is there an explanation in the letter as to why the Minister made you send me back in time?" Hermione asked. Before Aberforth had a chance to answer, she continued. "Kingsley told me that he was in love with your daughter, Mr. Dumbledore. Maybe this has something to do with her."
Aberforth's brow furrowed at her theory.
"Afraid that doesn't make any sense. I do have a daughter. She's about your age. Her mum just died a year ago. Sought my girl out. Hoped she might want to come home with me. I'd already missed so much of her life. She doesn't want anything to do with me and has no plans to ever come to Britain. She's off running around some magical rainforest."
If Aberforth's daughter had no intention of ever returning, how was it possible that Kingsley fell in love with her? Hermione didn't understand. There had to be a reason she was sent back. Every single thought that passed through her mind only served to intensify her pounding headache. She was growing weary. Her head wound was making staying awake harder.
"What should I do while I'm stuck here?"
"Maybe we should go up to the castle and get my brother's opinion on this situation."
Hermione no longer trusted Albus Dumbledore. Years earlier she would have claimed that she trusted the Headmaster implicitly. Certain events and long kept secrets that had recently came to light following the end of the war called her former blind trust in the wizard into question. After finding out how manipulative and devious the man could be, she knew that he was the last person she would ever want to trust with her secret. She could not forgive him for knowingly protecting Harry just so he could die at the right time. He was responsible for giving her best friend a terrible childhood at the hands of abusive and neglectful relatives. She knew that if Dumbledore was aware that she was from the future and knew about key events in the upcoming war, he would use whatever calculating skills he possessed to make her knowledge his knowledge. She refused to allow him to use her for the Greater Good.
"Absolutely not!" she exclaimed, startling Aberforth by her vehemence. "We will not get Albus Dumbledore involved in this. He cannot know anything about the future. He can't be relied upon."
June 18, 1998
11:00 pm
Kingsley paced outside the front of the Hog's Head for several minutes. Walking away from Hermione in that moment had been one of the hardest decisions he had ever had to make. He knew that he was responsible for making sure that she somehow made her way into the past. He'd known that he was going to have to do that for years, since one of the first times he ever saw her fifteen year old self in Grimmauld Place. That had been an experience he would never forget.
He could feel his blood pressure rising to an unhealthy level. At forty-four years old he was still considered a young wizard, but he was determined that his new position behind a desk wouldn't make him go soft. Years as an auror meant that he was in peak physical condition. Only periods of great stress caused the Shacklebolt family history of high blood pressure to make itself known in the youngest member. He was questioning his decision to send the love of his life back in time. Maybe it hadn't been necessary. He saw the way she was looking at him when they were seated at the bar. Maybe the eighteen year old Hermione would have been interested in him.
"Except you're an old man compared to her," he muttered to the cool night air. "She has her whole life ahead of her. Why would she want you?"
Kingsley stared down at his watch. If Aberforth kept to the plan, she would be disappearing before his very eyes at any moment. Assuming, of course, that the old man didn't lose his nerve. They had been arguing about this night for weeks. The night after the end of the Battle for Hogwarts Kingsley got absolutely pissed at the Hog's Head. He should have set a better example as the Interim Minister for Magic, but in that moment, he did not care about his image. Voldemort had been a threat for most of his life. He was the reason that Hermione disappeared only days before he had planned to propose. His grandmother's ring had been burning a hole in his pocket for months while he waited for the right moment. If he had known that she would never show up for their Christmas Eve date, he would've asked sooner.
Aberforth dragged him into Hermione's old bedroom to sleep off his bender. When he finally woke up over twelve hours later, he made the decision to send her back in time. He'd already stolen the time turner. Just simply hadn't had the courage to use it. If he didn't send her back, they wouldn't have met before the reforming of the Order of the Phoenix. He had been unwilling to give her up.
They sat over a hot omelet made with entirely too much goat cheese to discuss the plan he'd come up with. Aberforth had never divulged the details of how she was sent back to 1971, but Kingsley could not imagine any other way it could have been possible without the assistance of the Unspeakables.
Every Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries had been required to take an Unbreakable Vow that they would not divulge the time travel research they were undertaking. They were all breaking countless laws to even contemplate sending an unsuspecting witch back in time almost three decades. Aberforth had been a difficult participant to persuade. They'd argued for hours before he finally agreed to take part. But only after he'd punched the newest Minister in the face twice.
At ten minutes after eleven he pushed open the front door to the pub. Directing his steps straight towards the back parlor, he spent the few moments taking repeated deep breaths. Aberforth was seated on the sofa flipping through a leather album. Kingsley could tell he was upset by his red eyes and trembling hands.
"Is she gone?"
"Yes, she's gone."
Aberforth threw the album across the room. It smashed into the fireplace mantle, startling Ariana. He rose to his full, intimidating height to glare at the younger wizard.
"I cannot believe I let you talk me into doing something so foolish, son! This is madness. How do we even know the damned thing works?"
Kingsley retrieved the discarded album off the floor. He opened it to the page with a photograph of Hermione taken at her cousin's wedding. She was dressed in a deep blue dress and was laughing at something she was looking at off-camera. Kingsley remembered that night like it had just happened the day before. They had their first dance. He had almost kissed her for the first time too. They were alone behind one of the ornate topiary sculptures in the Lestrange Estate's formal gardens. His lifelong hatred for Dolohov only intensified that night when he appeared out of nowhere to ruin the moment. He ran his fingers over the photo before closing the album shut.
"I know it works because this morning I snuck into the Ministry of Magic's London office in the early hours of June 18, 1971."
Aberforth's eyes widened at Kingsley's confession. The Minister simply shrugged his shoulders.
"Looks like we've been using the same security badges for at least the last thirty years. We should really look into updating our security protocol."
"Why were you there?"
"You didn't actually think I would allow my Little Witch to use the blasted time turner without making sure it works first, did you? I got into the Ministry, did what I needed to do and made certain the modifications our Unspeakables made would allow for forward time travel. Obviously I was successful."
He didn't want to admit that the entire experience had been utterly terrifying. Every second that passed he had been certain the experiment had been a failure. Once he landed in the past he promptly threw up all over the alley behind the Ministry employee entrance. The return trip had been even worse.
"What were you doing in the Ministry?" inquired Aberforth, still not satisfied with Kingsley's previous answer.
"Broke into the Hall of Records. Performed a few spells. The Lestrange family tapestry should have updated the moment Hermione arrived."
"You did what?"
"I charmed a few records to make her the legal daughter of Aberforth Dumbledore and Roesia Lestrange."