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She's Got the Time	By : ThatRomantic Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Sirius/Hermione Views: 4416 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, its world, or its characters. I just write about them for fun - I don't make money from it.

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And although,

You're the only home I'll know

As if by magic,

Thoughts of you are gone. - La Roux

She’s Got the Time

Part I: Summer 1976

By ThatRomantic

Chapter 1: As If by Magic
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was sitting peacefully in his cosy office. He could hear all of his contraptions ticking to their own beat and dancing to their own tune. He was filling out some papers the Minister for Magic had insisted he take a look at and was, frankly, really rather tired of the tedious task. Fawkes, his Phoenix, made a cooing sound and he turned to look at the bird to see what had disturbed it. He loved the bird, and the bird’s observant nature astounded even him.
“What is it Fawkes?” he asked the fiery golden bird softly. Fawkes cooed again and bowed his head, as if in grief.
“Yes, I know my dear fellow, I miss him too,” the old man replied sweetly. He looked across at the only photograph he kept in the office. It stood in an elegant frame upon his desk, hidden discreetly by the permanent pile of papers and heavy books on his desk so that no one could see it. In the photo, two men were smiling back at him, one a tall man with a grey streaked auburn beard, and long hair of the same shade. His half-moon spectacles sat atop a very crooked, pale nose. The other man was shorter by a few inches and was just as dark as the other man seemed light. His shoulder length straight hair was sprinkled with white like the auburn man, but – unlike the auburn man – he did not wear glasses. His nose was straight and his eyes a deep honey brown. His dark beard was more haphazard than the other man’s and the hair on his top lip curled regally.
A wrinkling hand reached toward the photograph and stroked the glass by the dark haired man’s cheek.
“So much has changed since then,” Albus said, to no one in particular. “We were carefree. I cannot believe that he’s gone now.” Albus looked at the photograph wistfully and carried himself away to another time. He was broken out of his reminisce by a blinding green light filling his office. He looked over his desk to the source of the light. Just as quickly as it had come, it faded; leaving black dots in front of Albus’s eyes. He flicked his wrist and the candles within the office lit again. He was astonished to see that on the floor in front of his desk lay a girl.
Her thick curly hair covered half of her face and all of the joints of her limbs were dislocated. She had a sheen of sweat across her body and goosebumps on her skin. Her eyes were rolled back so he could only see the whites and her body was convulsing violently. Her breathing seemed laboured and, from what he could see from her expression, she was in agony. He walked around his desk to better examine her. As he approached her, her seizure slowed, her eyes rolled forward, the sweat seemed to disappear and her joints snapped back into place, and as they did so her hands hit the floor. There was a distinct sound of wood snapping when this happened, and he saw the girl’s eyes widen in shock and fear and look to her left hand. He thought he saw a piece of broken wood with what looked like a black thick cord poking out of it that looked remarkably like a heartstring. She peered through her hair and looked up at the man before her.
“Sir,” the girl croaked, her voice hoarse from the previous events, “do you know who I am?” Albus shook his head, shocked as to the events unfolding before his eyes.
“What year is it?” she asked quietly.
“Nineteen Seventy-Six,” he answered. Albus was intrigued as to how and why a teenage girl practically materialised in his office at ten thirty at night.
As if she could read his mind she asked, “Sir, what do you know of the spell Tempus Maxim?”
Albus was truly taken aback by the question. He was astounded that someone seemingly so young would know such a complex and dangerous spell. He answered her question cautiously, “It allows the user to travel backwards through time, but it is not reliable and has been known to have disastrous consequences, if it does go wrong the traveller will be sent back twenty years. Why do you ask about such a highly complex spell?”
“You used it on me, sir.”
“Oh, my.” He was astounded that he would agree to such an act. The spell could effectively wipe out timelines and the people in them. It was highly volatile, and only in drastic measures would he allow himself to cast such a spell. Wherever this girl had come from he knew that this had been the last resort. He did not understand what could happen for him to do such a thing, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
The girl continued, apparently unaware of Albus’s hesitation in trusting her. “Yes, I was only intending to go back a few months from my time, but it seems the spell has backfired and I have come here. To 1976.” This explained a lot to the old man and also brought up several questions. The fact that the spell had backfired meant that she was from twenty years from now. She knew things that he did not, and that scared him enormously. Not because he wanted to know, but because she knew things that, for him, were uncertain.
“May I enquire your name please?”
“Hermione Granger, sir. I’m in Gryffindor and will be going into my sixth year.” He could not help but smile inwardly at this. Another Gryffindor to wreak havoc.
“Very good, very good. Now tell me, Miss Granger, why did you use such a complex spell? There must have been some dire need?”
“You gave me a letter to give to you if the spell backfired. You also gave me these,” she said, passing the Professor a deep crimson drawstring bag. He took it and eyed it suspiciously. He knew this bag well – it was something he had received from a dear loved one not so long ago. He undid the gold drawstrings and opened the bag with care, walking to his desk chair as he did so. There was a clinking of glass inside and he thought he saw a glint of silvery white. There was an envelope in heavy parchment, with handwriting that he recognised at once as his own, and plucked it from the bag. He opened the letter and read:
Dear Albus,
If you are receiving this letter, my plan has worked. You may question me and be looking at this parchment with a frown upon your face, but I assure you there is logic to my madness.
The fact that Miss Granger is with you means that you can work together to create a world that I will never know. When Miss Granger came to me tonight, I was sceptical myself as to whether this spell was worth my while. I can’t help but think that perhaps it is. That is why I sent her to you, Albus – she has knowledge about the world you currently live in that you do not. This can work to your advantage.
We are on the brink of a Second Wizarding War with Voldemort and I’m weary. I am in no health to fight this battle, Albus, and the dark side is strong. I am scared they may win. They have a real chance now, just as they did in your war, only their hold on the Ministry and the people is worse than I’ve ever seen before. Voldemort has new recruits as well as his old allies behind him. He is gathering non-human support as well and is using very persuasive and terror-filled methods to gain support from others. The light may not survive, and I am almost certain that I will not be there to guide them.
Miss Granger’s best friend, Harry Potter – Lily and James Potter’s son – is prophesised to defeat Lord Voldemort. However, with her being in your time this may change. I have given you – along with this letter – some memories. These memories will aid you in the defeat of Voldemort and you are to train Miss Granger in this task.
I believe that the reason that Voldemort returned in my timeline is that he has made Horcruxes. In my time, Voldemort lost power when he visited the Potter’s house on October 31, 1981. He killed both Lily and James Potter and attempted to kill Harry. However, the spell backfired upon him due to ancient magic that he did not understand. That night was fifteen years ago. However, in July 1995, Voldemort returned to full power (having attempted to rise again from around five years before) and I only discovered four years ago how.
Tom Riddle made a horcrux out of an old school diary. He possessed a young girl and opened the Chamber of Secrets from 1992-1993. However, due to his rise at the end of Mister Potter’s and Miss Granger’s fourth year, I had reason to believe there were more than one made. There were. I have destroyed another, and am on the trail of a third, however, I do not know how many he intended or intends to make. This is why you need Miss Granger.
She has been fighting Voldemort along with Harry since her first year. She is the brightest witch of her age – possibly more brilliant than Lily Evans and Severus Snape. She is level headed and logical and will most likely not do anything without thinking about it first. She is studious and determined and – so I’m told – has a mean left hook.
I would have been giving Mister Potter this task this year but as Miss Granger presented an opportunity to amend these things before they begin, I am leaving these things up to you to teach the witch you see before you. I believe that she has the strength to defeat the Dark Side along with the help of the Order and any friends she may make along the way.
Suggest to her that she take Julian’s name and tell her that you were close. I know he has just left your world but let her carry his name on – even if it is a falsity. I would advise that you become her guardian.

I hope this explains to you sufficiently the tasks at hand, Albus, and don’t lose hope like I have. Have faith in those surrounding you.
Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1996
P.S. Get Miss Granger to talk to Horace. There is a memory that he has given me that is false. It is imperative to your mission that you get the true memory.
Tears threatened to surface to Albus’s eyes. He was astonished at his own lack of confidence in his own cause. He was disturbed at what the girl in front of him and her friends had been through. He was fighting an underground battle from where he sat, but nothing as bad as this had ever come up in the war he was currently fighting. He’d never lost hope. He composed himself and looked back at the girl on the other side of the desk. She was looking at him with a mixture of fear and hope. “My, my,” he murmured to himself, “you must be a powerful young woman if I believed you capable of overcoming such a powerful nemesis.”
The girl looked at him with wonder and awe. She didn’t seem to know how to respond to that comment. She simply nodded and said, “Yes, I suppose. Sir, I believe, due to the fact that I am here before my birth date, there will be some problems I didn’t anticipate.”
This was true, she would not have anticipated the problems she now faced. He decided to start following his own advice from the letter he had read. They needed to create a new identity for the girl so that the fabrics of time would not be destroyed. “That is true. I believe that I have an alibi and family name for you to use. You must create a new identity for yourself and learn the story we are going to tell the rest of the world well. We must not have any floors.”
“Yes, sir. I was hoping to keep my given name. I like it and it is not a very common name.”
“Very well. The family name I was going to suggest was Gardener. It corresponds with your backstory, which I will tell you in a moment. When were you born?”
“September 19, 1979,” she answered.
“Keep the day but change the year – you were born in 1959.”
“What was your idea for what I should tell others?”
Albus sighed and braced himself to tell his story, “Someone very close and dear to me has just recently died in an attack on his village. I could say that you were his daughter from his marriage. His ex-wife had died early in the marriage, so let us say that you were left in my care due to the relationship between Julian and I.” The girl stayed quiet after this as though sensing that it was a sensitive issue. He thanked her for her silence. “What subjects will you be taking, my dear?”
“Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Arithmancy, Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, and Herbology.”
“Six? Well, my dear, if you feel you can cope with that many then by all means you may attend those classes.”
“Thank you, Professor. I need clothes and books and things. I brought my trunk but didn’t pack things that could be too advanced in time, should the spell go wrong.”
“Very well, but I feel that you have had quite enough excitement for one day. For now, I feel that bed is what you need.” With that, he gently took her hand and led her from his office. They reached a portrait of a vampire and a werewolf in a seemingly passionate embrace. “Here you are. This room can serve as your quarters for your stay here at Hogwarts before the first term commences. The password is ‘between.’”
“Thank you, sir, for your understanding.”
“Oh, Miss Gardener, before I forget, when school begins I wish to explain in full what my future self has told me. I would like to see you once a week during the term.”
“Of course, Professor. Goodnight.” With that she stepped through the portrait hole.

Albus had one more stop after escorting Miss Gardener to her quarters before he took some well earned rest. He stopped at his old rooms and knocked on the door. He knew the occupant would be awake – most probably reading by the fire – and had no qualms about knocking on her door at a quarter past midnight. Sure enough, not two minutes after he knocked the prim dark haired occupant came to the door. Her dark hair, which was usually tied back in a severe bun, was hanging down her back in waves. She was wearing a deep forest green dressing gown that tied at her small waist. Her green eyes were bleary and unfocussed but instantly became alert when she saw who had knocked.
“Albus?” she asked in a Scottish brogue, “What are you doing here so late?”
“I must speak to you, Minerva. It is essential that I talk to you tonight.”
“Come in then Albus,” Minerva said looking at the old man with hesitation in her eyes. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Earlier tonight I had a visitor to my office,” Albus said, “she is from another time – now she is even from another dimension, due to the fact that she knows a timeline that no longer exists – and is currently residing in the second Defence Against the Dark Arts quarters. She is a victim of the Tempus Maxim.” At this Minerva gasped. He knew that she was aware of what this meant to the girl, herself and the world around her.
“Oh, my!” she said.
Albus inwardly chuckled at her exclamatory. “Yes,” he continued, “it seems that my future self, or rather an alternate of myself, saw it fit to send a sixteen year old girl to another time period and dimension of reality entirely.”
“But Albus, you know what this means, don’t you? This could change the whole course of history. The girl will never exist the way she does today and the world she knows…” Minerva trailed off, the seriousness of the situation hitting her. “Albus, what made your… other… self think that this was a wise choice?”
“It seems, Minerva, that I was losing hope.”
“Hope? Hope for what?”
“That is not relevant now, but if there is one thing I learned from myself it is that I must not let the events of that girl’s past unfold in our future.”
“Why did you come to me?” the witch asked.
“I thought you ought to know. She said that she was in Gryffindor and the things she’ll have to do in the next few years show that she will be again. You will be her housemistress and will have to guide her more than any other you have before. She may need a firm female figure to look to in her times of need and there is no one that I trust more than any other to give her that.” After this, Minerva didn’t seem to know what to say, she just nodded dumbly.
“Of course Albus, whatever you need,” she said, dully.
“Thank you. Miss Gardener – the ward I have just explained to you about – said she is in need of some supplies. I was hoping that you would be willing to join her shopping tomorrow.”
“Yes, yes. That sounds wonderful.”
“Well then, thank you Minerva. I will see you in my office tomorrow at nine o’clock to use the Floo in my office to get to Diagon Alley. Goodnight, my dear.”
“Goodnight, Albus. Sleep well.” With that adieu, the headmaster left and climbed up to his own chambers. Unfortunately, his mind was buzzing so much with all the things that had happened that day that he did not sleep well.
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She's Got the Time