Reading Time: 76 Minutes

Title: Holding My Breath Between Heartbeats
Series: The Infinite Loop Of Love And Good Intentions
Series Order: 2
Author: Indygodusk
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Angst, Drama, Family, Future Fic / Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Time Travel
Relationship(s): Gen, Harry Potter/Hermione Granger (pre-relationship)
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Major Character Death, Violence-Graphic, Violence-Domestic. Bullying, Addiction, Suicide, Child Abuse-implied, Murder, Adultery, Weasley Bashing
Word Count: 70,068
Summary: Putting his hand in his pocket, Harry fingered the necklace. Maybe he’d use his spare time to figure the thing out, maybe start a fourth apocalypse or something to amuse himself and anger the Ministry, though only a very small one. He did have his kids on the outside to think about, after all.
Artist: Drake

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Chapter 11:

∞⌛∞

∞Duat—the Underworld∞

~Hermione Granger (14)~

The canine ears on the top of Anubis’s head flattened at the noise of the crowd and then came back up, flicking back and forth. “The Bargain of Threes is a powerful mystical tradition that satisfies the balance,” Anubis said grudgingly, “but it is dangerous.” He peered into the Master of Death’s shadowed hood. “And hard to fulfill.”

“I’m not scared of hard or dangerous,” the hooded man said.

Pushing his way to the front, Sirius waved an arm in the air. “Hold up, explain this for the non-Egyptians in the room. I was just here to grab Anubis for a game of tag and maybe some pranking on that Sumerian Lord Rodent and your Bast and Set.”

Eyes going wide, Anubis stepped sideways and elbowed Sirius hard in the side.

Sirius jerked away wheezing and clutching his side. He coughed into his hand. “I meant to say parking, not pranking, parking—like how to park my favorite motorbike after we go on joyrides.” He coughed again and looked up with watering eyes. “Anyway, so how does this Bargain of Threes work again? What makes it dangerous? Thoth, you were saying….”

Turning to Sirius, looking faintly amused, Thoth inclined his head. “The Bargain of Threes is simple to set up and hard to complete.” His voice turned serious. “For 3000 years of service, one may earn the chance at three wishes each for three linked individuals. A wish is a heart’s deepest desire. The Gods open the path and provide a way, but each individual has to walk it to completion, using all their skill and cunning to complete the three by three conditions. If they cannot, if even one person fails to make all three of their wishes come true, everyone’s wishes disappear and they revert to the state they were in when the bargain was made, which in this case means death in the year 1981 by the Christian calendar and final judgement by the realm with highest claim, which means ours. The One Great God accepts this and allows our dominion.”

“By three linked people,” Sirius said slowly, looking over at the hooded man. “You mean baby Harry, Hermione, and Voldemort?” The hooded man nodded curtly. “That’s crazy! Why not me instead of moldy Voldy?” Sirius asked indignantly.

“I wish I could, but it doesn’t meet the requirements. Are you dead in 1981? Did you die at the same time as Hermione and baby Harry? And finally—I feel I have to point this out—do you even mind being dead after you died? Or is it more fun for you?” His voice sounded exasperated.

Sirius crossed his arms and pouted. “No, no, no, and yes, but I am willing to be alive again if it would help you. It’s certainly better than giving a dark lord everything his heart desires!”

“Not everything, just three,” he said. Sirius looked unimpressed. Sighing, the hooded man shook his head. “Look, I know, but it’s the only way to untangle the current mess. I’ll make it work. You’ll see.”

“You better, kid, or we’ll be right back here where we started if not worse.” Sirius’s eyes narrowed. “Remember, it can always get worse. Plus, this is Voldemort we’re talking about. Maybe we should stop while we’re ahead.”

Head rearing back, the hooded man stabbed a finger in Hermione’s direction and snapped. “We’re not ahead as long as she’s dead, much less dead at fourteen instead of forty! You know how I feel about this!”

Hands shaking, Hermione felt compelled to speak. “Excuse me, can I say something?” She waited for them to turn in her direction before starting. “I don’t understand why someone called the Master of Death would want someone to live, especially someone like me. Beyond being book smart, I’m not special. Not like Harry.” She paused to gulp in a breath as he made an unhappy sound. It was true, she wasn’t special. Maybe the hooded man was just a good person like Harry who tried to save everyone, but if he really wanted to save someone, she had a better target. “While I don’t want to be dead,” her voice trembled, “I also don’t want to make things worse for everyone else. I won’t be selfish. I know I messed up and this is my fault. I’ll take the blame. If you can only save one person, save Harry.” She wrung her hands. “He’s the most important person here. If my life is the price to pay for Harry’s, then so be it. Please, he’s my most important person. He’s special. Please save Harry,” she begged. “Please.”

For a moment the hooded man just stared at her. She could see his throat working as he swallowed hard. Then he said in a raspy voice, “There is no saving Harry without saving Hermione.”

“But—” she tried to keep arguing but he turned his back on her, cloak flaring dramatically and signalling the end of the conversation. She turned to Sirius for help, but he just shrugged and shook his head, sending her a proud and grateful look that made no sense.

Looking sour, Shai flicked his tongue. “If this is a wise bargain or not remains to be seen, but I must warn you, the changes you’re about to make mean a harder and more treacherous path lies before you than originally intended by fate and prophecy.”

“A harder path can be more rewarding,” the hooded man said curtly.

Voldemort’s prison of ice disappeared. Waking up, he blinked and shook his head briskly, lifting his chin arrogantly as he looked around. Ignoring his chains, he shifted to stand like he was among equals or even subordinates, lip curling as he judged those around him and found them wanting. His eyes paused on baby Harry, Sirius, and the hooded man before moving on. His nose wrinkled with distaste at seeing the animal-headed gods in the crowd. Hermione avoided his gaze when it paused on her, feeling unnerved by his attention. He found her uninteresting and soon moved on to examine the rest of the room.

“It is an auspicious number—three,” Lady Nephthys said, stroking a hand down the ghostly Harry in her arms as he slowly woke. “Three people. Three deaths. Three desires.”

“3000 years of service,” Sirius said wryly. “That’s a lot.” He poked the hooded man. “Have you really thought about this? You’d have to stay and work here with these people. No nights, weekends, or paid time off, though I’ll admit that there are some fun parties and you’d get to wear some killer jewelry.”

The hooded man ignored him, batting away his hand to focus on Thoth. “Lord Thoth, I agree to 3000 years of service for the Bargain of Threes.”

“We two have agreed to the bargain, but all players must agree to play.” Thoth’s ibis head bobbed as he pressed his palms together and then opened them wide before bringing them back to his chest in a gathering gesture. “For your 3000 years of service I grant three wishes each to the following three individuals: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Tom Riddle also known as Lord Voldemort.”

Looking over this shoulder, he gestured to the fine-boned woman in a simple linen dress and red beaded broad collar kneeling next to his desk grinding ink. “Scribe, attend to the record.” She bowed her head and stood up, moving behind the desk and sinking back down onto a stool before taking up the brush to start recording events as they unfolded.

Thoth respectfully bobbed his head to Ma’at and Osiris, waiting for acceptance before moving to stand next to the hooded man on the same large floor tile, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Harry Potter has agreed to the bargain with Thoth,” Ma’at announced, her winged arm gracefully gesturing to the toddler in Nephthys’s arms sucking on his thumb next to the hooded man.

Turning his head, Thoth looked at Voldemort, who was watching them all with an avid gleam in his eyes that made Hermione uncomfortable. “Does Tom Riddle agree to the Master of Death’s bargain?”

“I get three wishes? Anything my heart desires?” Voldemort asked keenly. “And I don’t have to do anything for it except agree?”

“Depending on the clarity of the conditions in your wish, you may or may not have to take actions to make it come true, but essentially, yes,” Thoth said, eyes cold and clinical. “The Lord of Death has paid the price for you. If you agree to his bargain, you will get the top three desires of your heart.”

“Then I’ll make sure to word them clearly,” Voldemort gave a toothy grin. “Yes, I agree.”

“Tom Riddle has agreed to the Master of Death’s bargain with Thoth,” Ma’at announced

Thoth turned to Hermione. “Does Hermione Granger agree to the bargain?”

Everyone turned and looked at her and Hermione felt her throat go tight. She wasn’t sure if she should agree. She wanted Harry to live, but it felt like this was helping the greatest Dark Lord in recent memory get ahead. If Hermione chose not to accept the bargain, she and Harry would stay dead, but so would Voldemort. His spirit wouldn’t linger on to possess Quirrell in her first year and drink unicorn blood in the Forbidden Forest, trying to reform his body and cling to life. He wouldn’t be a looming threat keeping her Professors and Harry on edge.

A voice in Hermione’s head sounding like Professor Dumbledore told her to choose the greater good and sacrifice herself and Harry to get rid of Voldemort now. It was the logical choice, but her heart burned at the thought of accepting it. She had to protect Harry and make sure he survived. Plus, she didn’t want to die. She was only 14. She still had so much to live for, like getting perfect scores on all of her OWLs and NEWTs, sharing her first kiss, proving Malfoy and Ron wrong about everything, making sure Harry was happy and healthy and lived past graduation, getting an amazing job, getting married and having kids, and visiting the most famous library on every continent in the world (although she was trying to temper her expectations for Antarctica).

Maybe if it was just giving up on her own life and dreams she could sacrifice for the greater good, but she couldn’t let Harry stay dead if she could help it. He was the most important person in her life and he deserved better. He deserved one person who put him first. Not to mention poor Lily Potter, who in the final moments of her life was everything a witch and woman should be, full of love, sacrifice, compassion, cunning, and fighting grit. James Potter had also stayed downstairs against overwhelming odds to give his family and the strange girl who’d shown up at his backdoor the chance to escape, defending them with his life. Hermione needed to honor the love and sacrifice of Harry’s parents.

Though if the Headmaster or the Ministry found out she’d tried to change time and failed, getting Harry killed in the process, not to mention herself, she’d at a minimum be imprisoned and expelled, wand snapped and her life over. They’d done worse to Hagrid for less. She’d just have to make sure no one ever found out.

Surely there’d be another chance to defeat Voldemort later. Dumbledore was so strong and wise, surely he’d figure out a way, and if not, she and Harry and Ron could help get rid of him after graduation.

Licking her lips, Hermione nodded. “I agree.”

“Hermione Granger has agreed to the Master of Death’s bargain with Thoth,” Ma’at announced. “All participants have agreed. The Bargain of Threes will begin.” Her voice rang through the room like a bell, echoes bouncing off the stone columns until it sounded like a chorus whispering overlapping words to each other in a side room.

Osiris on his throne up above watched without speaking, fanning himself slowly with a fan made of feathers and gold.

Ma’at waited until the sound died out before speaking again. “Thoth, as god of secrets and maker of this Bargain of Threes, read the desires of their hearts and tell us the three wishes granted to each participant.”

“Now wait one moment,” Voldemort objected, jerking against his chains. “I demand to speak my wishes. I never agreed to having my mind read!”

Thoth looked at him coldly. “The agreement was for the desires of your heart, not your mind.”

“No! I insist on—mmph!” Voldemort’s tirade was muffled as a glowing chain slid over his mouth and tightened into a gag, turning bright red as he continued to struggle.

“Well? What does he want?” Anubis barked. “Get on with it.”

Thoth counted out on his fingers. “Tom Riddle’s heart desires to 1) survive this mistake, 2) learn how to split his soul to achieve immortality, and 3) never be killed by an enemy’s spell.”

Nobody looked happy at that recitation, including Voldemort, who jerked and struggled so hard that he almost toppled over. Ma’at gave an irritated huff and flicked her fingers, turning him into a block of ice again.

Hermione thought those wishes sounded pretty good for Voldemort and pretty bad for everybody else, so she wondered how much worse it would have been if he’d been allowed to word the wishes himself. Maybe just as well she didn’t know. She’d already have enough nightmares from this experience without hypotheticals making it even worse.

Thoth turned to Hermione next, making her gulp. She didn’t know what her heart would most desire, but hopefully the wishes would be good ones. “Hermione Granger’s heart desires 1) Harry Potter to survive her interference and still become the-boy-who-lived.”

“Did his mother’s sacrifice not work because of me?” she interrupted to ask, blinking back tears at having another failure confirmed.

“It doesn’t matter,” the hooded man said quickly.

“It does!” Hermione argued back stridently. “I want to know!”

Thoth looked her in the eye and gave her the respect of answering. “Lily Potter’s love and sacrifice did protect her son from the Killing Curse, restoring his soul to his body and causing the curse to rebound and kill Tom Riddle,” Thoth said evenly. “However, in the original timeline he was in his crib against the wall, which protected him from the flying debris of the explosively rebounding spell blowing open part of the roof. This time he was hanging over your shoulder when the curse hit. It killed you instantly, but rebounded off of him, only killing him for a split second and then restoring him to life thanks to his mother’s sacrifice. However, he was killed again moments later by a bad fall and flying debris. His mother’s magic couldn’t protect him from that.”

“Oh my God.” Eyes slamming shut, Hermione moaned and swayed as tears dripped down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” she whimpered, pressing a hand over her mouth. “Oh God, I’m so sorry Harry.”

A strong arm wrapped around her shoulders before her knees gave out and pulled her up against a man’s hard chest, letting her lean against his warm body. “Shh, it’s not your fault. It was an accident,” the hooded man said, rubbing comforting circles on her arm as she pressed her face into his robes and sobbed. “Harry wouldn’t blame you for your good intentions and besides, your wish will fix it. He’ll live and won’t remember anything. Don’t cry. We’re fine. It’s going to be fine.”

Sniffling, Hermione tried to force her tears down as she lifted her head. “You promise?” she asked wetly, looking up into the shadows of his hood. “Harry’s really going to be okay?”

“Yes, I promise,” he said, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “Don’t cry. It’s going to be okay.”

Taking a quivering breath, Hermione scrubbed her arm over her cheeks. She barely knew this man, but he was kind, his touch felt soothing, and he smelled good. It had been a really bad day. Leaning on him and letting him fix things sounded really nice right now. It might be foolish, but she decided to trust him. “Okay.”

Eyes still damp, she looked over at Thoth, not moving away from the hooded man’s supportive arm. He didn’t seem to mind the closeness. “You can continue, Lord Thoth. I’m sorry for my outburst and hope I did not offend you.”

“Loving others and seeking knowledge and wisdom is not an offense,” Thoth said kindly. “To continue, Hermione Granger’s heart desires 1) Harry Potter to survive her interference and still become the-boy-who-lived, 2) herself to survive her mistake, and 3—Harry Potter to have at least one adult in his childhood who makes him feel special and loved.”

“Oh, Hermione.” The hooded man sighed heavily.

Hermione looked up at him hesitantly, wishing for the thousandth time that she could see through the shadows in his hood. “What’s wrong? Is that bad?”

“Not bad,” he said after a moment, “but not a quick or easily granted wish either. Why don’t you be a little more selfish? Perhaps wish for perfect teeth or the ability to read any language ever written?”

Eyes going wide, Hermione chewed on her lip and then looked over at Thoth. “That last one does sound nice….”

Thoth’s feathered head cocked to the side as he asked without judgement, “Would your heart truly desire the ability to read all languages over your best friend growing up with the security of knowing he is loved?”

“He doesn’t need that, he’s fine,” the hooded man said dismissively. “Go for knowledge, Hermione,” he coaxed, squeezing the arm over her shoulder. “You could read every book that’s ever been written. You’d love that.”

Pulling back from his arm to stand on her own, Hermione shook her head wistfully. “What’s knowledge compared to friendship? To love? No, I’ll keep my wish as is, even if it’s more complicated and causes me trouble. Harry’s worth it to me.”

Sighing, the hooded man shook his head. “You’re too good for this world, Hermione Granger.”

Brow wrinkling, she huffed. “How absurd, especially considering the reason we’re in this fix in the first place is my arrogance and insistence on meddling. Perhaps you need your eyes checked.”

“I said what I said.” He had a smile in his voice that made her chest feel warm.

“Wait,” Hermione turned to Thoth with excitement, “can I change my last wish to save the Potters so they don’t die? James and Lily?” The hooded man sucked in his breath. “Then they can raise Harry in their loving home!”

“One wish for one life is balance,” Thoth said gently.

Hermione gulped, mind racing. “Then what about saving just Lily Potter? Harry’s mum?”

“Could we?” breathed the hooded man, tautly looking off into the distance. After a moment he deflated and turned away to rub a hand over his face. “No, it won’t work.”

“Why not?” Hermione demanded.

Shai spoke up with authority. “Not all threads have the same thickness and elasticity. Some fates weigh too heavily upon a soul.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“Lily Potter wouldn’t end up surviving long after being saved by your wish, less than a year by my reckoning,” Shai said, “and during her second death, the thread of young Harry Potter would almost certainly be cut short too. It would create a paradox that invalidates your Bargain of Threes and makes more problems than any of us here are willing to deal with.” He shook his head. “If you truly desire your friend to grow up with a loving adult, someone besides his parents will have to step up and give the child the love you so dearly want him to know.”

“Alright,” she said softly, feeling crushed.

“Then she can still choose knowledge,” Sirius said leadingly. “Right?”

“Your heart’s song is too strong for selfishness, Hermione Granger,” Thoth told her kindly. “We’ll leave your wishes as stated.”

Thoth cast the hooded man a look Hermione couldn’t interpret and then turned to the child Harry, who was leaning out of Nephthys’s arms trying to touch Ma’at’s feathers. “Finally, the young Harry Potter’s heart desires 1) the scary man to disappear,” he gestured at the still-gagged Voldemort, “2) to have a shiny feather from the pretty bird lady, and 3) to never have an itchy bum again.”

Sirius snickered loudly as the hooded man scoffed and said, “I’ll agree with the first, but those last two wishes are totally stupid. No way I’m wasting 3000 years of work on something like that. He should stop being so dumb and ask for something better.”

“He’s just a baby,” Hermione said defensively. “He can’t help it.”

Thoth clacked his beak in a laugh and looked the hooded man over, but it didn’t seem quite as kind as his previous expressions. In fact, it felt predatory, making Hermione want to shrink down and go still. “Very well, wishes two and three are canceled. Instead, we’ll go with your preferred Harry’s heart’s desires, though they are neither simple nor easy to achieve. I will not entertain more changes. Harry Potter’s heart desires 1) to keep the first wish listed of having the scary man disappear, 2) to stop being haunted by 2020, and 3) to spend his life with Hermione Granger.”

Blinking, Hermione looked at baby Harry, too confused to pay attention to the way the hooded man jerked and made a strangled sound. “That’s nice, I guess. I mean, I’m happy to be friends with Harry forever, so that last one sounds easy, and I’m glad baby Harry doesn’t hate me for getting him killed like I feared, but I don’t understand his other wish. Is 2020 a year? Or maybe his preferred eyeglass prescription?” Not waiting for a reply, Hermione answered her own question. “He’s probably too young to keep track of years, much less one so far into the future, but perhaps his eyesight is already blurry and his parents have talked about being haunted by bad eyesight and how they wished he had 20/20 vision, maybe even gotten him those little kid glasses with the headbands to use. He probably doesn’t like wearing thick glasses and bands around his head and wants perfect eyesight. That makes sense.” Nodding to herself, she looked up at the hooded man, who seemed tense and unhappy. “Doesn’t it?”

“Sure,” he said shortly.

Ma’at clapped her hands and then spread them in a circle before repeating the motion two more times. She looked up at Osiris on his throne, waiting for him to wave his fan in acknowledgement before continuing. “The terms of the Bargain of Threes have been set. The 3000 years must be paid by the Master of Death no matter the outcome. All wishes must be fulfilled to keep any, or else all are forfeit and both time and fate will reset, returning us to this moment of judgement.”

Turning to the hooded man, she gestured briskly. “As your first task, I will allow you to help restore the balance of these three souls. Thoth, beloved of Ma’at, you will go to see my justice done as He who makes proper use of Ma’at.”

Thoth bowed his head. “Ma’at’s will be done for the sake of Ma’at.”

The hooded man bowed as well and then turned to Thoth. “I will take Hermione if you will take the other two, my Lord.”

“Very well,” Thoth said, “but I think it better if my little passenger sleeps for this next part.”

Nephthys nodded and stroked a hand down baby Harry’s ghostly back, putting him instantly to sleep as he slumped against her shoulder.

Thoth moved over to Hermione. “Your second wish is to survive your mistake. I grant this wish, but that does not mean it will be forgotten. You were hit by a Killing Curse. Such things leave a mark.” He reached out and placed a hand on the back of her shoulder.

“Ah!” Hermione exclaimed, hissing and fighting tears as she felt a bright sharp pain building where he touched her.

“Hey!” The hooded man shouldered Thoth back. “What did you do?!” He snapped, stepping in front of Hermione protectively.

Pulling aside the collar of her shirt, Hermione craned her neck and tried to see down the back of her shoulder where her skin stung fiercely. She could just barely see the curving tip of a desaturated bloody slice on her ghostly-looking skin. “Is it a curse scar? Like Harry’s?” she asked with trepidation.

“What?” The hooded man stopped glaring at Thoth to spin around and examine her back, his fingers gently tugging down her shirt behind her shoulder and pressing warmly on her skin around the wound. Whatever Thoth had done hurt.

“Well?” she asked, blinking hard and trying to sound tough so she wouldn’t cry again. It felt unfair that even as a ghost it hurt this much.

“It is a curse scar, but different from Harry’s. It’s shaped like a sickle used for reaping, perhaps because I’m the Lord of Death,” his finger traced around the edge of the wound, making her shiver. “Or it could be two parts. The top blade is curved like a crescent moon or ibis beak, perhaps since Thoth’s power is what’s saving you, and the handle is a lightning bolt like the curse scar on m—” he paused, gently tugging her shirt back into place before stepping back, “like the curse scar on your friend Harry’s forehead. It should heal well, but will leave a permanent mark. Make sure to hide it well to avoid any questions when you go back.”

The hooded man looked over his shoulder at Voldemort and then leaned down to whisper in Hermione’s ear. “This is a gamble, but I believe in you. I know that you and Harry are better than that monster. Besides, there’s a season to everything, even Voldemort’s ascendency. Don’t stress too much. You can do this in your own time. In fact, you’ll have to, because with time twisted the way it is now, it won’t be done in a linear fashion. Fixing Harry’s childhood and the rest of it can wait until you’re all grown up. If we’re lucky it might even resolve itself. You have enough to worry about until then with being Harry’s friend and keeping him alive, not to mention making sure he passes his classes.” He chuckled.

Hermione meant to smile politely at his attempt at cheering her up, but instead anxiety surged up her throat, almost choking her. “What if I mess up again? What if I fail and ruin everything?”

“Do you want to give up? Quit?”

Something about his tone of voice felt insulting and she found her shoulders going back as she snapped, “I beg your pardon, I’m Hermione Granger! I don’t give up and I don’t quit!”

His shadowed bottom lip, the only part of his face she could make out, curved into a smile. It made her think of Harry. “I know.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” she said, caught off-guard by his easy acceptance. She’d been expecting more of a fight.

“You don’t need to worry.” His tone turned serious. “It will all work out. Harry will never give up on you either. His love is timeless and eternal.”

Breath catching and cheeks going warm, Hermione tilted her head, trying to get a better look at the shadowed face under the silver hood even though she knew it was futile. “Who are you?”

“Who do you think?” he asked enigmatically.

Tucking her lip between her teeth, she tried to settle on a theory. “When we first met in the library, I thought you were an Unspeakable from the British Ministry of Magic, but then when you showed up here they called you the Master of Death. That’s probably closer to the truth. For a split second while you were first talking to Sirius, your hood flipped open and you sort of looked like an older version of James Potter, but more handsome.” Blushing at inadvertently admitting that last part, she rushed on, hoping he wouldn’t remark upon it. “But your face is always in shadow, so I think seeing you like that was a trick. You probably look differently to people depending on if you’re feeling friendly or mean when they die. The magic made me think you looked like a Potter because you were being nice and it was comforting to me. If it was Ron looking, he’d probably see someone similar to his dad. Or if you were angry at someone, they’d see a bare skull or a scary demon or something.”

Laughing, his teeth flashed. “I love the way your mind works. It’s a good theory.”

“But am I right?” Hermione pushed, frustrated that he still wouldn’t confirm or deny anything about his identity.

Before she could press for more, Thoth interrupted them. “It’s time to go back to that night and fix what we can.” Thoth gathered up the sleeping Harry from Nephthys in one arm and wrapped his hand around the limp Voldemort’s elbow with the other. “Come.” He disappeared with his passengers.

“We’ll be fine. Let’s go,” the hooded man said, taking her hand. “Close your eyes and before you know it, you’ll be alive again.” She obeyed. His warm hand tugged and she followed, feeling strangely heavy as they transitioned out of the underworld. Everything faded but the feel of his hand. Then—

There was nothing.

There was life.

Hands still clasped, she took a breath, feeling the difference between breathing with a body versus as a ghost, and opened her eyes. It was nice to not be alone. The night was black and blustery, the moon a mere sliver of silver in the sky, and the Potter’s cottage dark except for the warm lights shining through the curtains on the first floor and the upstairs nursery.

Swallowing, Hermione braced herself for the events of October 31, 1981 in Godric’s Hollow for the third—and hopefully last—time.

∞⌛∞

Chapter 12:

∞⌛∞

∞October 31, 1981—Godric’s Hollow∞

~Hermione Granger (14)~

“What now?” Hermione asked her companion.

“Now we need to stop your former selves from going into the house and interfering.”

“Right,” Hermione said bracingly, “and then everything will happen like it should.”

“Including Voldemort dying,” the hooded man said with forced levity. “Now where should we expect you to come from?”

After Hermione explained, they created a simple plan of attack. Hermione was tempted to try the Stupefy spell she’d read about, but she wasn’t confident of pulling it off perfectly so she defaulted to the old tried and true Full Body-Bind Curse. It proved to be remarkably simple to catch the two Hermiones. To be honest, it was rather embarrassing. She hoped the hooded man didn’t think less of her for it.

They were in the middle of hiding the two petrified bodies under a bush in the backyard when the first Hermione disappeared, her timeline snuffed out. Hermione could already hear the Death Eaters talking in front of the house. Wiping a hand across her forehead to get rid of the nervous sweat chilling her brow, Hermione jumped when the second Hermione abruptly disappeared from beneath her other hand.

“Everything’s fine, calm down.” The hooded man put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Hermione sent him a grateful smile. Once again, she was so glad that she didn’t have to do this alone.

Looking up, she felt the smile drop from her face. The veiled lady was standing at the back corner of the house, a pale figure in the moonlight. Hermione had forgotten that the woman had shown up and helped her hide the second time around. “You need to hide!” Hermione whisper-shouted, jumping up and rushing forward to warn her before the patrolling Death Eater came around the side of the house and attacked. The veiled lady jumped back and flattened herself against the house.

“You!” the hooded man exclaimed at her back.

A man’s voice around the side of the house said, “Lumos” and a light appeared to illuminate where the veiled lady had been standing before she’d moved. After a second, the light disappeared.

“Who are you?” the hooded man demanded quietly.

The veiled woman put a hand to her throat and disappeared just as the dark silhouette of the Death Eater who’d cast Lumos emerged from the shadows on the side of the house, his wand turning to point at Hermione.

The hooded man darted in front of her with his hand raised, causing a huge gust of wind to blow through the backyard and into the side alley where the Death Eater was standing, making him stagger back with his hand raised over his face as his robe whipped up and tangled around his wand arm.

Wrapping his arms around Hermione, the hooded man picked her up and dragged her to the other side of the yard behind a tree where the shadows were thickest. After a minute of standing in tense silence, the Death Eater moved on and he relaxed and loosened his hold, pulling her down to sit with him on the ground. “I’ll catch up to that woman eventually, but for now, we wait.”

“Wait for what?” Before she’d even finished her question, the sound of splintering wood and shouting filled the night along with flashes of red and green spells. “Oh,” she said softly, tears welling in her eyes as she heard James and Lily Potter calling out to each other and desperately making their last stand trying to protect their son. She sniffled and wiped an arm across her face.

The hooded man shifted, putting an arm around her and holding her hand, both of them sitting with their heads bowed, sharing warmth in the cold dark night. Being together helped make it feel a little less scary and awful, though only a little.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said softly. “Harry will survive this and be there waiting for you when you get back to Hogwarts. Even though the Potters still die, we’re going to make the transition as smooth as silk, helping them pass over and settle down in a good place on the other side. They were good people. They’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” she said. “For them and for me.” She tried to ignore the noises coming from the house.

“Of course. I’m doing this for me too, you know,” he said softly.

Hermione flinched as the spellfire stopped and Voldemort’s creepy, high-pitched laughter filled the air. James Potter must’ve just died. It made her heart hurt. “I’m sorry I got you into this mess and you have to do 3000 years of service to fix it.”

“I forgive you,” he said. “One day you’ll understand how much of this mess is my fault. At that time, I hope you can forgive me too.”

“You could tell me now and give me time to think about it,” she said, trying to draw out the distracting conversation, but then Lily Potter’s voice sounded from the nursery and they both flinched and went silent.

“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!”

Hermione started to cry, unable to ignore it any longer. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she pressed her hands over her ears to block out the sounds and buried her face in her knees, trying not to remember seeing Mrs. Potter die twice already. The cloaked man pressed his face to her shoulder and hugged her tightly as the corner of the Potter’s house exploded in a wave of green light that broke through her eyelids despite her best efforts not to see it.

After a few minutes, she forced herself to uncurl. She could hear the sounds of the neighbors creeping out of their houses to come and investigate and the put-put of a motorbike right before it turned off, followed by the cry of Sirius Black as he ran into the ruined house and discovered the bodies of his friends. “Is Harry alright?” she asked hoarsely.

“He’s fine. Listen to that set of lungs.”

Focusing, Hermione could hear baby Harry crying inside the house and then the sobbed words, “Unca Paddy! Up! Paddy, up!” The crying quieted down, presumably when Sirius picked up Harry.

The hooded man stood up and pulled her to her feet. “Hagrid’s coming up the front now and will take away the baby on the motorbike, leaving Sirius to pursue Pettigrew.” He sighed. “As tempting as it is, I think we’ve both learned better than to try and interfere again.”

Looking up towards the moon, the hooded man growled. “I’m being called for another task. I have to go.” He turned to look at her. “Can you wait for me? It won’t feel long. I’ll return to you by the count of nine, if you’ll trust me.”

“I trust you,” Hermione said reluctantly, though she didn’t want to be left alone in this place.

“Thank you, and I promise, only to the count of nine.” With that, he melted into the night.

Despite being quite mature and a genius for her age, Hermione was still only 14 years old. She felt scared, lonely, confused, overwhelmed, exhausted, and honestly a bit traumatized. She didn’t think she could talk to anyone back home about this either. She’d get in so much trouble with her professors and the Ministry for what she’d done. If Harry found out, she feared that he’d stop speaking to her again like when she reported his new broom. Ron would criticize her mistakes, insult her to her face and behind her back, and insist on taking the Egyptian pendant back once he knew it was a powerful artifact so he could play with it, ignoring her warnings and probably creating even more problems.

She wanted to sleep for a week, hug her parents, have a good cry while hiding underneath her blankets, cuddle Crookshanks, find the sanity and energy to start prepping for next year’s classes, and forget about all of this crazy. Though she couldn’t completely forget about her third wish of finding Harry a loving adult while he was still young because if she failed to make it come true, she’d find herself and Harry dead again and back in the Egyptian Underworld. Thoth was supposed to provide a way to give that to Harry, but she had no idea what that would be short of hiring an Egyptian nanny for him or something. The Goddess Nephthys had seemed nice, but was probably too busy with her day job.

Hermione also still hadn’t figured out all of the rules for and consequences of using the time-travelling Egyptian necklace. She’d completely forgotten to even ask about it when she’d been surrounded by the people most likely to have some answers. Plus, she still didn’t know anything about this Master of Death she was placing so much trust in. She wasn’t even sure if he was Egyptian like the other gods she’d met, British like Sirius—who he seemed to be close to—or some other nationality and mythology altogether.

What a mess. It was too much. Hermione decided for the sake of her sanity to put all her questions to the side for now. She’d have to figure them all out later when she was better rested and not covered in scratches and bruises. Just the thought made her new curse scar throb painfully.

“See? Nine seconds,” the hooded man announced as he reappeared, breaking her from her spiraling thoughts.

“Very punctual,” she said dryly in acknowledgement. Hermione had forgotten to count, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. Toeing a tree root in the grass, she asked, “Are you going to take me home now?” Looking up at his dark silhouette, she bit her tongue to keep from saying anything else. Part of her wanted to be back in her familiar bed pretending none of this had ever happened and part of her wanted to cling to his arm and beg him not to leave her again, not even for nine seconds.

“You have three options. I can take you back home, you can use the necklace to go back on your own, or…” he paused leadingly, “you can stick with me for a little longer and help me with my next task.”

“What task?” she asked, trying not to seem too eager.

“Unfortunately it’s to help Voldemort with his second wish,” he said with a moonlit grimace, “but since we need him to complete his three wishes so we don’t die again, it’s a necessary evil.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t as appealing as she’d hoped.

“We get to go and find a book,” he said coaxingly.

“A book?” That sounded more like her speed.

“Maybe it could be in the Library of Alexandria. Want to go and check?”

“Oh,” she breathed, clasping her hands in front of her chest as her mood instantly lifted. “The Library of Alexandria? Really?”

He held out his hand and she eagerly took it. “Time is at our fingertips. You can explore until they close.”

The next few hours were perhaps some of the best of her entire life. How many modern scholars would kill for the chance to visit the ancient Library of Alexandria in Egypt, the most famous library in the ancient world? Her only regret was how many books were in languages she couldn’t read (if only her heart was more selfish) and how there wasn’t nearly enough time to read even a fraction of the ones she could decipher. While she was in the middle of a fascinating treatise on changing social customs in the Nile Delta, her new hooded friend gave her a potion and she drank it without question. Instantly she felt refreshed and free of pain, as if all her wounds had healed and she’d gotten a full night’s sleep. It made focusing on her reading even easier.

After the closing bell of the library rang for the final time and the head librarian escorted her to the door with an amused smile before pushing her through and locking the door behind her, Hermione heaved a sigh and looked up into the sun-baked sky turned pale orange and lavender blue as it transitioned to twilight. Walking to the middle of the stairs, she couldn’t help but turn around and look up to memorize the view of the famous library complex that no longer existed. The Library of Alexandria was made up of several stone and white marble buildings, several of which had multiple stories. The main six-sided structure where she’d spent most of her day had a large cupola on top with a golden statue of a man holding a scroll, symbolizing the library’s vast collection of knowledge.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” her new friend asked.

“Oh yes, thank you!” Hermione turned and gave him a big hug. “That was wonderful!”

Suddenly her stomach growled loudly, announcing it was hungry. “Sorry.” She blushed and stepped back from the hug, which he’d accepted and returned happily.

“Time to feed the beast,” the hooded man said with a quick grin, taking her down into the nearby market. After buying food from a young family running a food stall, they sat on the warm sandstone steps outside the library’s grand edifice, drinking cold mint tea and eating steaming hot flatbread folded over spiced vegetables.

Feeling happily stuffed, Hermione turned to her companion and finally remembered the point of their visit. “Oh! The book for the second wish! I completely forgot about it,” she said, blushing. “Did you find it?” She looked back over her shoulder hopefully. “Do we need to sneak back inside the library to keep looking?” She wouldn’t mind that at all.

Chuckling, he shook his head and wiped a smear of brown sauce off his bottom lip with his thumb before licking it. Hermione looked away, not sure why she felt so strangely warm. He reminded her of an older, charming, confident, and compelling version of Harry, but she’d convinced herself that that was an artifact caused by his magical cloak concealing his identity. For all she knew he was as short as a goblin or taller than Hagrid. Most of his face was still in shadow and he’d deftly avoided all of her questions and tricks throughout the day, trying to gain more insight into his true appearance and identity.

“Most of the world would be shocked if they knew what a thrill you get from sneaking around.” He grinned at her. “Unfortunately for you, the book we need isn’t here.”

Hermione immediately felt contrite. “I’m sorry for wasting your time,” she said, slumping. “I should’ve helped you look so you could’ve figured that out sooner instead of getting so distracted and thinking only of myself.”

“Oh, I always knew it wasn’t here,” he said breezily. “The third century BCE is much too recent for what we’re looking for.”

“What?” Hermione shifted to glare at him. “If you knew it wasn’t here then why did we spend the whole day wasting time?”

“Because it made you happy,” he said simply, as if that made any sense whatsoever.

“Why are you so nice to me? I don’t understand,” she said helplessly. “Most people aren’t this patient and kind, especially when it comes to me and my interests.”

He stood up abruptly, cloak snapping and flaring. “You should set higher expectations for your friends. You deserve kindness, patience, and caring. Those who can’t be bothered aren’t worth your time and should be abandoned for better companions. True friends will rise to your expectations and try to exceed them, not knock you down to make themselves feel better.” Hermione didn’t know what to say to that, but luckily he didn’t seem to expect an answer.

“Come,” he held out his hand and she took it, rising to her feet.

They walked into the shadows next to the flight of stairs leading up to the doors of the library and between one blink and the next Hermione opened her eyes and found sandstone and marble blocks replaced by piles of gold and jewels, stacks of scrolls and books, and precious Egyptian treasures. “Merlin’s beard!” Eyes wide, she spun around, finding herself inside a huge stone room lit by sunlight bouncing off large polished metal discs. Piles of treasure were stacked against every surface. “Where are we?”

“This is the ancient city of Hamunaptra, also known as the City of the Dead. It served for many centuries as the resting place for the Pharaohs of Egypt before it became lost to history.” The hooded man waved her forward. “The book we want is in the back. Originally it was destroyed when treasure hunters and thieves rediscovered the city in the 1920s and broke in, setting off a curse and a booby trap that led to this place sinking beneath the sands and being destroyed.”

“I’ll keep my hands to myself then,” Hermione said, knotting her fingers together to resist the temptation to run her fingers over the beautiful strands of pearl and bead necklaces or pick up one of the books and scrolls scattered throughout the piles.

In the back of the treasury, he crouched down next to a chest. “Here it is.” He pulled out a midnight blue book with spidery silver writing that she couldn’t read.

“What’s the book about?” she asked as he took the book and strode back to the front of the room.

“An evil practice that was lost for a reason,” he said grimly. “Don’t ask more.”

“But if Voldemort wants it, I should try to learn about the subject to help Harry and Dumbledore stop him,” Hermione argued as she trailed after him.

“The less you know about the specifics the better. If you need to know the generals, you’ll discover it later.” He placed the book on a front table covered in pieces of expensive-looking jewelry next to an open archway leading out to a hallway that sloped up and presumably led outside.

Hermione was about to argue more when her attention was caught by something that completely distracted her. On the corner of the same table inside a small, gorgeously carved box lay a very familiar-looking Egyptian necklace, though this one looked newer with crisper writing and no dents or broken links. The central scale flanked by the heart and feather took on a new meaning now that she had visited Duat. The chains of the necklace were attached to a beautiful broad collar made of strands of what looked like moonstones. “Is that my necklace, but from the past?” she pointed to the one in the box and then touched the one around her neck. “How strange.”

She reached over to pull it out, but her companion stopped her. “It is the same necklace, but you have to leave it here to make sure it comes to you at the right time.”

“What do you mean?” She looked up at him and tilted her head.

“If you can be very quiet and very still, I’ll show you,” he said with a mysterious and challenging smile.

“I am excellent at following instructions.” Hermione mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key.

Wrapping his fingers around her upper arm, the hooded man pulled her into the deep shadows between two statues and whispered into her ear, “Close your eyes and count to three, then open them again, but remember, stay silent and still.”

Hermione obeyed his instructions, counting to three. When she opened her eyes, time had passed. Silver was tarnished, statues crumbling, and there was a thick layer of dust over everything. Much of the fabric looked brittle and decayed. They were also no longer alone in the treasury. A tanned man with a thin black mustache wearing a red hat, a sweat-stained button-up shirt, and multiple amulets from various religions around his neck was swiping jewelry off the table and stuffing it into a series of saddlebags.

“Beni, you genius, this will set you up for life,” he chortled to himself, shoving the book for Voldemort and her magical necklace into an overflowing bag, not noticing the strings of moonstones on the broad collar snapping and spilling out onto the floor as he closed the flap and hefted it up onto his shoulder with a grunt before staggering up the hallway and out of the room.

“Close your eyes and count to three again,” the hooded man breathed softly, his breath tickling her ear making her shiver as she obeyed.

When she opened her eyes, they were outside in the shadowed lee of a rock. To their left was a sinkhole where the ancient city of Hamunaptra was in the process of being swallowed by the sands. To the right was a group of camels with Beni’s bulging saddlebags full of treasure, including the book and her necklace. A group of tattooed tribesmen in flowing black robes with guns on their backs and wands on their hips sat on horses in the nearby desert, watching the destruction. Three European-looking people came running away from the dust cloud of the sinking city and climbed up onto the camels—two men dressed like adventurers from the 1920s and a beautiful woman with long dark curly hair in a flowing black dress with thin straps. The handsome, rugged-looking man wearing a shoulder holster and the beautiful woman rode together on one of the camels, looking into each other’s eyes and sharing a sweet kiss while the second, shorter-haired and slightly older man turned away and made kissy faces at his camel.

“Close your eyes and count again,” the hooded man whispered.

This time Hermione opened her eyes inside a smoky gambling den. The shorter-haired older man was sitting at a nearby table with a cigar clenched in his grinning teeth and cards in his hands. Gambling at the same table was a wrinkled old man with dark skin like shoe leather wearing a sweat-stained yellow shirt beneath a series of silver chains and an enormously fat white man in a purple velvet smoking jacket with straw yellow hair and a thick mustache that made him look like a walrus.

“Well, Jonathan?” asked the fat man to the man from Hamunaptra in a British accent. “I’ve been eyeing that book of yours. Do you care to wager?”

Jonathan tapped his cigar on a dish. “Sure, why not?” He placed the midnight blue book from Hamunaptra onto the table as his bet. The blond fat man with the mustache rubbed his hands together greedily. “What will you bet, Slughorn?” Jonathan asked, also sounding British, though a bit more sloppy with the accent. Slughorn pulled out a stack of British pounds for his bet and placed them precisely in the center of the table. The wrinkled old man grumbled and folded. They played one more round and then flipped over their cards. Slughorn won the pot, including the book.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. If the British pounds and pale skin meant Slughorn was British, that might be how the book worked its way from Egypt to England and into the hands of Voldemort to fulfill his second wish. She desperately wanted to ask, but she had promised to be silent and was trying to be good.

“One last time, close your eyes,” her companion said and Hermione obeyed, trying not to burst from all of the questions.

This time she opened them in the middle of an open-air bazaar full of stalls and brightly dressed Egyptians hawking their wares to tourists, who looked to be dressed in modern styles. Her mouth dropped open and she barely kept herself from calling out when she saw Ron Weasley walk past their shadow. Stopping at one of the nearby stalls, he pointed at a string of gaudy orange beads and started bargaining. The stall keeper looked annoyed and kept shaking his head in negation even as Ron got louder and more blustery.

The hooded man stretched out his arm and pointed at first the stall-keeper and then at Ron, shooting out tendrils of pale pink magic. Both men stopped and shook their heads, then stepped to the far edge of the table and bent over something in the back. After a minute of friendly bargaining, Ron handed over a few pound notes and the stall keeper handed Ron the familiar Egyptian gold necklace with its many pendants, though it was missing the broad collar of moonstones she’d noticed in Hamunaptra. Pocketing the necklace, Ron smiled triumphantly and strutted away.

Instead of the flashes of past moments giving her answers, Hermione felt her mind bursting with more questions. She could barely keep them all locked behind her teeth. A hand was placed over her eyes. “Last time,” the hooded man said softly. She closed her eyes, feeling her lashes drag against his skin as she counted to three.

When his hand moved down to rest upon her shoulder, she opened her eyes and found herself inside her darkened dorm room at Hogwarts. It was night outside the window, the clock on the wall had hands pointing to 3:39, and the sound of soft snoring came from behind the bed curtains of Parvati and Lavender. After everything that had happened, it felt almost surreal to be back at school again.

“You have enough time,” the hooded man said softly, “so try not to stress too much. You’re still so young, no matter how mature and smart you are, and that’s okay. Be a kid and enjoy your childhood while you can. Remember that you’re amazing and ignore Ron’s mean words and insecure heckling. Don’t put up with his bullying. Be patient with Harry. He doesn’t always know what’s best and lets his anxiety and temper get the best of him, but he knows that he needs you. You won’t lose him. He trusts and relies on your bookmark promise.”

Eyes going wide, Hermione looked over and up at him. “How do you know about that? Who are you?”

His hand squeezed her shoulder and then he stepped back as if reluctant, his arm slipping away to fall heavily by his side, his thumb and fingers rubbing together as if trying to hold onto her warmth. “Only someone who needs you to live long and well.” He moved back into the shadows between her bed and the wall, almost disappearing in the darkness. “Choose wisely and fare thee well, Hermione.”

“Wait—” she begged, needing more answers, having so many questions, but it was too late. The shadows flickered and he was gone.

Exhaustion crashed down upon her. Her eyesight blurred and she wavered on her feet. She needed sleep. Maybe this would all make more sense in the morning. Stumbling to her wardrobe, she changed into pajamas, dragged herself to bed, and dropped onto her pillow, wrestling her blanket out from under her legs and over her back before going still. Within a minute, she was fast asleep.

∞⌛∞

Chapter 13:

∞⌛∞

∞1994, November 01—Hogwarts∞

~Hermione Granger (15)~

Leaning against the wall outside the Fat Lady’s portrait, Hermione kicked her heels and waited. Soon enough Harry stepped out, looking braced to face the world alone after the events of the night before with the Goblet of Fire. He seemed surprised to see her waiting for him.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

“Hello.” She smiled at him and held up the still-warm stack of toast she’d buttered and wrapped up in a white napkin so he could avoid the unpleasantness of people in the Great Hall this morning. “I brought you this…want to go for a walk?”

Eyes shining with gratitude, Harry nodded. “Good idea.”

Falling in by her side, the two of them went downstairs and strode across the Entrance Hall, moving quickly and not glancing over at the Great Hall and the people inside, though Hermione noticed the sound drop as they passed and then get loud seconds later. Exiting the doors, they walked down the lawn towards the lake where the black Durmstrang ship sat at anchor and strolled along the shore, eating their warm toast in the chill morning air. Hermione was grateful there wasn’t a cold wind to cut through their robes. Between bites, Harry described what had happened to him after he’d left the Gryffindor table the night before. It sounded awful.

As Harry finished by haltingly telling her of Ron’s accusations and braced himself for her response, Hermione had to fight the urge to march back to the castle and kick Ron’s daft jealous arse. “Well, of course I knew you hadn’t entered yourself,” she said stoutly. “It was obvious by the look on your face when Dumbledore read out your name!”

The subtle tension in Harry’s shoulders disappeared and he sent her a grateful look. “I thought it would be obvious too,” he said, “but nobody believed me. Not Ron or the other students and not the Professors. Even Dumbledore thought I’d done it. I said I didn’t put my name in and that I didn’t want to compete, but they said that it didn’t matter and the Goblet is a magically binding contract. If I don’t compete, I’ll be punished and could lose my magic. They won’t help me get out of it. I’m stuck.” Looking glum, he kicked at a tuft of grass.

“That’s outrageous,” Hermione seethed, upset on his behalf. This was exactly why she’d used her third wish in Duat to get Herry a loving adult who’d always be on his side. “It’s not fair.” She looped her arm through his, trying to share her warmth. “I’m sorry, Harry. I believe you and I’m going to do everything I can to help you get through this. No matter what, you’ve always got me by your side. You’re not alone.”

“Thanks, Hermione.” He squeezed her arm and then sighed. “Look, if I die—”

“You’re not going to die,” she said crabbily.

“People have. You said so yourself,” he said insistently. “So if I die, I want you to have my dad’s cloak and the map. They’re the only things of value I have. Well, besides my broom, but I know you don’t want that, though you can have it if you want. All my stuff is yours. I guess you could sell the Firebolt and buy yourself books or go traveling or even just splurge on some fancy paper and pens to make your bookmarks. As long as it’s for you, I wouldn’t mind.”

“As sweet as that is, I’d rather have you alive than the proceeds from selling your Firebolt,” she said tartly. “You’re my best friend, Harry. I won’t lose you. Besides, you’re not that easy to kill. Think of all the things you’ve survived already in your fourteen years of living. Some measly little tournament isn’t going to defeat you now. You’re too lucky to die.”

As they started to loop back towards the castle, Hermione saw the broomshed up ahead and got an idea. “I know flying makes you feel better,” she said, nudging him with her hip and gesturing with her chin towards the Quidditch Pitch. “Why don’t you go for a ride while I get started in the library researching ideas?”

The corner of Harry’s mouth tilted up. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Biting her lip, Hermione added, “I mean, I’m willing to stay and go flying with you if you want, I don’t want you to be alone if you don’t want to be, but I can’t promise not to scream your ears off every time you go too fast or dive.”

Huffing a laugh, Harry shook his head. “You’re too good to me, Hermione, but no. I won’t subject you to that. Besides, this morning calls for super fast speeds and insane levels of diving, and if you’re with me I’d want to go slow to make sure I could keep you safe and so you wouldn’t get too scared. Better for both of us if we take a break and meet up again later.” Exhaling with relief, Hermione nodded in agreement. “I’ll be fine, but thanks,” he said. They shared a smile.

Separating outside the broomshed, Harry went inside to fetch his Firebolt and Hermione walked back to the castle. She couldn’t help but brood about how unfair it was that Harry always had such bad things happening to him. He was the sweetest, kindest boy in the world and deserved so much better. She didn’t understand why everyone couldn’t see how good he was and how hard he was trying. Instead, they always turned on him at the first excuse. Even Ron! It wasn’t fair. Harry deserved to be supported, protected, and believed in, not this rubbish.

As she entered a side door and started climbing the stairs towards the library, a stray thought popped into her head. It wasn’t fair that she could successfully save Ron’s son Hugo in the future, but couldn’t save Harry’s mom in the past, even after two attempts. Thinking about the Potters made her eyes sting.

Hermione exited the stairwell on the first floor and walked in the direction of the library. She wondered if Hugo was doing better mentally, and if he had people to love and support him the way he needed. There’d only been other teens there that day at the Burrow when he’d jumped off the roof. It was a serious sign of mental illness, that or extreme magical exhaustion, when a wizard’s accidental magic failed to save him from something like falling to death. Did Hugo have adults who cared? Who would get him the help he needed? She hoped so.

Sometimes kids could only do so much. She ran into that problem a lot when trying to help Harry. She couldn’t understand how Professor Dumbledore could sleep at night with how much he could do to help Harry and yet didn’t. She tried to believe in the Headmaster’s wisdom, and that there was a higher purpose she just wasn’t seeing, but it was hard, especially when Harry was suffering. Hermione was doing her best to help Harry, but she was only fifteen and had only been in the magical world for four years. Although she still planned on researching the Triwizard Tournament in depth, she didn’t think she’d have any luck with getting Harry out of participating. Some days, she felt so useless.

A fat tear dripped down her cheek. She was glad that she’d at least saved Ron’s future son Hugo. That was something to be proud of, even if she couldn’t save the Potters from dying or Harry from this trap. Wiping away the tear impatiently, she dried her fingers down the front of her shirt, forgetting about the invisible necklace she still wore. She’d been too afraid to leave such a valuable and dangerous artifact unattended in her trunk, especially after learning how easy it was for people to come in and steal things, like last year when Ginny stole Tom’s Diary from Harry’s room or last week when Lavender stole her last Sugar Quill. As Hermione’s hand slid down the gold of the necklace, her tear-damp finger caught on the top of the bookmark pendant and unspooled it.

Stopping in her tracks, Hermione’s eyes went wide and shot down to her chest. “No, no, no, don’t do that.” She tried to push the pendant back into place, but instead it slid up and over, jumping out of her grip like it had been possessed by Neville’s toad Trevor, attaching to the nearest round pendant and sinking into the shape of V. “No, wait. How do I stop this thing?” She tried verbal commands. “Stop, freeze, reset, undo!”

“Boo!” George Weasley slapped her on the bum as he raced past, laughing as she squealed and jumped. “Gotcha! That’s three for me!” He disappeared around the corner, cackling.

Startled and offended, she instinctively pressed a hand over her pounding heart, accidentally depressing the sundial lever. The thud resonated ominously through her bones. Closing her eyes, lips pressing tight, she barely resisted the urge to scream at the stupid necklace and stupid Weasleys. Hermione breathed through her nose and braced herself for trouble, counting to twenty-seven.

Right on cue, the world flashed black and everything twisted, turned, screamed, burned.

It felt like she was dying, like she was dead.

∞⌛∞

∞2021, November 09—Hogwarts∞

~Scorpius Malfoy (16)~

Hugo sat precariously perched on a windowsill in an empty classroom reading a book on enchanted jewelry in Africa. He’d become obsessed with finding out more about his mother’s Egyptian necklace after being saved by the young Hermione Granger. It had given him a new lease on life, so that was good, but they were all afraid of what would happen to Hugo’s fragile mental state when he didn’t find what he was looking for or, conversely, if he did.

Ever since Hugo had tried to kill himself last summer, they’d made a pact to try and always have at least one person with him to keep him from hurting himself. They didn’t want Hugo to forget that there were people who loved him and wanted him around. Since everyone else was busy this morning, escort duty had fallen to Scorpius.

He didn’t mind. To Scorpius, Hugo was family. The adoption wasn’t legal (at least not outside of Germany), but that didn’t matter to Scorpius. In his mind, Hugo was his little brother and an honorary Malfoy.

After Hugo had almost died of suicide, the Weasley family had gone crazy (even without being told the secret of Hermione Granger traveling through time to save him). The grandmother, Molly Weasley, had screamed at everyone and somehow made it all about her trauma and suffering instead of about Hugo and what he needed. She’d blamed what happened on the bad influence of Hugo’s dead mother, Harry Potter in prison, and even Scorpius’s dad, which was dodgy rubbish. The Malfoys had been banned from the Burrow and told to stay away from all the Potter and Weasley children or else risk being reported to the Aurors and the newspapers for child endangerment. Then Hugo’s grandmother had isolated Hugo from his friends and closest family, supposedly for his own good since they were bad influences, and pumped him full of so many homebrewed behavioral modification potions that he’d gone into toxic shock and almost died of that instead, spending a full week at St Mungo’s Hospital recovering.

Scorpius’s dad had been furious and gone on a vicious rampage that, quite frankly, had scared Scorpius. He’d finally started to see how his father might’ve once been a Death Eater. Reading between the lines and putting together what he could from snooping, Scorpius’s dad had spent money like water while viciously guilt-tripping and blackmailing everyone he could, including several hospital workers, a Goblin at Gringotts, multiple Ministry workers, a pair of Aurors, the newspaper to keep it all quiet, and—at a minimum—Bill, George, Percy, Arthur, and Fleur Weasley, giving the Weasleys an ultimatum to keep Molly Weasley in check and let him have unfettered access to the children or else he would expose all their secrets, turn them into paupers begging in Knockturn Alley, and make it his life’s mission to put as many of them as he could in neighboring prison cells with Ron Weasley. The Weasleys had folded like origami. There were probably even more machinations, but at some point Scorpius had decided to stop looking because he wanted to have plausible deniability and be able to testify to a judge that his father was innocent in case it ever came to a criminal trial.

After the dust had settled, Scorpius and his dad had gone to pick up Hugo from the hospital on his day of discharge. Arthur Weasley had found some spine and exercised a final spark of defiance, asking Hugo who he wanted to go home with and saying that his family loved him and his Grandmother was sorry and missed him. The emotional manipulation made Scorpius feel angry and sick.

Thankfully, Hugo had shown good discernment and chosen the Malfoys. The house elves had helped collect everyone and their luggage and the children were all reunited in the house by dinnertime. After a week of getting used to living with each other again, his father had announced at breakfast a family trip to Germany to see Beethoven’s living portrait perform some of his most famous musical works. They’d left that afternoon on a family friend’s yacht and sailed across the ocean to Germany, spending a magical two weeks on vacation there. At the German portkey office on the way back, the official travel documents for Draco Malfoy and six Malfoy children hadn’t raised a single brow. None of them could figure out if he’d paid to have the documents forged or actually bribed a judge to sign off on the adoption, but the important thing to Scorpius was that nobody seemed upset, not even James. Scoprius was happy to bid farewell to being a single child and gain four brothers, at least as long as Rose wasn’t legally his sister so they could still get married one day. Since his father knew about his dreams and ambitions where Rose was concerned, he decided not to worry about it. Instead, he focused on enjoying his new family.

Which was why Scorpius was balancing on two chair legs in an empty classroom while Hugo perched on the narrow windowsill reading. His youngest bro needed the company, even, or perhaps especially, when he was being ridiculous. Speaking of which, “Hugo, why can’t you read in a chair like a normal person instead of perched on a window ledge? Your bum isn’t that narrow or that padded.” Hugo scowled but didn’t look up from his book as Scorpius continued his teasing. “It has to be hurting by now. You’re going to end up with a flat bum and all your trousers will fall down.”

“That’s what belts are for,” Hugo said irritably.

Pleased at getting a response, Scorpius rocked his chair legs back and forth and looked around the empty classroom. It was boring. He thought about pulling out a textbook from his bag and getting ahead in his reading, but the warm sun streaming through the windows and warming his chair felt too relaxing. Maybe he should put his head down on a desk and take a nap. Sunlight gleamed off Hugo’s pale hair, making it look blond instead of red. Blond really was the best hair color, but Scorpius decided not to mention it because he didn’t want to kick Hugo when he was already down.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Hugo said sulkily, looking at him from the corner of his eye.

“Good, because I hate changing diapers,” Scorpius said cheerfully. “Not that I ever have changed a diaper, but the thought of it is generally quite unpleasant, you know? Baby poop and other people’s privates. They’re called private for a reason. I don’t want to see them.”

Snorting, Hugo looked up from his book. “Yeah, it’s rank. I have cousins still in diapers.” He wrinkled his nose and let the book fall to his lap.

Success! Letting the chair fall to four legs, Scorpius leaned forward. “I heard that in muggle China, they don’t use diapers. Instead, the little kids wander around in open-crotch pants, their bare bums out and privates dangling in the wind, and when they need to go they just squat no matter where they are, even in the middle of the street.”

Hugo let his leg drop to the floor. “Even in winter or during a party? No way, that’s so gross! If you stepped in poop on the street, you wouldn’t know if it was from a dog or a person.”

“Ew, stop, now you’re grossing me out,” Scorpius said, cringing away and laughing.

“That’s too weird. No way it’s true, even with muggles,” Hugo said, chuckling and shaking his head. “I’ll have to ask my mum, she’d kno—” Cutting himself off, he winced and closed his eyes, going pale. Scorpius knew what that was like, forgetting for a moment that your mum was dead and then suddenly remembering again.

“We could ask Rose,” Scorpius said, trying to draw Hugo back to the present, “but only if we’re prepared for a possibly violent response. I don’t think she’s a fan of potty humor, though you’d know best.”

Hugo swiped at his moist eyes and responded. “Rose thinks she’s hilarious when she makes a fart joke, but that we’re immature gits when we do. It’s pants, innit?”

A thump sounded from behind the teacher’s desk, followed by a girl’s voice, “Merlin’s pants, I hate that landing!”

Scorpius and Hugo exchanged a look and stood up to investigate, drawing their wands just in case.

“Who’s there?” Scorpius said, stepping protectively in front of Hugo and trying to make it look casual.

A hand landed on top of the desk, followed shortly by the head of a girl with thick curly brown hair falling over her face. She tapped at something on her chest as she pushed herself to her feet. “Hello,” she said breathlessly, smoothing back her hair and tugging her uniform straight. “Sorry to bother you. I didn’t mean to appear like…that….” Trailing off, her eyes bounced between them. “Oh,” she looked strange for a moment. “Hello again.” Her expression softened and she gave a gentle smile as she looked past Scorpius. “How are you doing, Hugo? Better, I hope?”

Hugo gave a strangled gulp. “You came back.”

“Er—yeah. It was a bit of an accident. Sorry to bother you,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Glancing between them, Scorpius realized it was young Hermione Weas—Granger. It was Young Hermione Granger come to visit again. Surprise was followed by a swell of jealousy. Hugo was so lucky. Scorpius wished a younger version of his mother would come and visit too. He tried to tamp it down so it didn’t make him bitter, but then he had a realization.

“Oh! You came back!” Scorpius exclaimed, spinning on his heel and rushing over to his bag. “Please wait, I need you to do something for me!” Turning his bag upside down, he dumped it out onto the nearest desk, shoving off his history and charms textbooks and several essay scrolls onto the floor until he found the small thin book he was looking for. “This!” he exclaimed, rushing back to her and shoving it into her hands. “My mom’s sick—a blood curse—and this is the cure. Give it to either of the Greengrass girls—Astoria or Daphne. They’re both in school with you.”

She took the book reluctantly. “I don’t know….I don’t have good luck with saving people in the past.”

“Please, you saved Hugo. You can save her. My mum didn’t deserve to die so young,” Scorpius pleaded. “It was a family blood curse from generations ago. She was innocent. They didn’t discover the cure until a few months after she died. Please, give it to her before it’s too late. Please save her. Save my mum.” His eyes swam with tears. “I miss her so much. Please.”

Biting her lip, she nodded. “Alright, don’t cry. I’ll try.” She tapped the book with her wand, shrinking it, and tucked it into her pocket. “The Greengrass sisters?” she asked to confirm.

“Yes, Astoria and Daphne Greengrass. Or my father, Draco Malfoy.”

Her expression twisted with distaste. “Malfoy? I thought I’d misheard that before,” she muttered.

Scorpius took a deep breath and nervously rubbed his fingers together down by his side. “Please, I know you’re not friends in school, but he’s a good man. He’s a good dad.” She looked politely skeptical. “Hugo can tell you,” he looked over desperately. “Right Hugo?” He turned back to her. “Now that his dad’s in prison and his mom’s passed, Hugo and his cousins live with me and my dad. We’ve become family. You can trust my dad with this. Please, help us get my mom back.”

Blinking, she looked between them. “Ron’s son…lives with Draco Malfoy?” She looked at Hugo with concern. “By choice? Are you happy there? And safe?”

“Yes, Mr. Maloy’s very good to us,” Hugo said. “You don’t need to worry, promise.” He looked like he was deep in thought. Something desperate and cunning moved behind his eyes. Licking his lips, he looked down and asked, “Can I ask you for a favor too, mu—ma’am?”

Amusement wrinkled her nose. “Don’t call me ma’am. I think we’re the same age right now. It seems silly.”

It was silly. Scorpius looked at Hugo with suspicion. Why did he avoid calling her mum? Unless she somehow didn’t know she was Hugo’s mum, only that Ron was his father. But if so, why was Hugo hiding that from her?

“I want to come and see Hogwarts in your present day,” Hugo announced.

Pulling back, her brow wrinkled. “Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I promise not to talk to anyone. I just want to see what the school was like before so much got destroyed during the Battle of Hogwarts.”

“The Battle of what?” she asked faintly, eyes wide and face paling.

Hugo took a step forward. “I think it would help me a lot to see the glory of Hogwarts in the past, just for a moment, like visiting a living chapter of Hogwarts: a History. It’s my favorite book.” He touched her hand softly and looked into her face with an earnest expression. “It’s your favorite book too, isn’t it?”

She bit her lip, looking torn.

“Please? Just a short trip to see my favorite book brought to life. Please?” He gave her puppy dog eyes. Even Scorpius was susceptible to that look. It was weaponized cuteness. Hugo’s request was a bad idea, but it was hard to deny him anything when he looked like that.

Hermione must’ve felt the same, because she slowly nodded. “Alright, just a short trip to see the castle, but you have to promise not to talk to anyone or touch anything!” She held up one finger and Hugo grinned triumphantly and nodded. “And it might not work. I’ve never tried to bring along another person. I’ve only travelled solo.” She frowned and looked at the ceiling. “Though I have travelled tandem with a conventional Time Turner, so it should theoretically be possible.”

Tapping her chest, she made the elaborate gold Egyptian necklace appear around her neck. It must’ve been invisible. She tugged the small bottom pendant out and the link spooled into a long thread. Stepping close to Hugo, she tossed the golden thread over his head and then lifted the small pendant to her chest, attaching it to another pendant on the far right. It sank in at an angle, forming a lever, which she pressed just as spidery glowing writing appeared on the pendant’s surface.

“Oh hey, wait,” Scorpius said, realizing he shouldn’t just be standing there like a daft git while his little brother disappeared. He jumped forward, “Take me too.” He reached out to grab the golden thread wrapped around Hugo so he could slide it up and move inside, but his fingers couldn’t touch it, instead just sliding over it along the back of Hugo’s neck. “Hugo, wait, don’t leave without me!” He looked at the young Hermione. “You have to stop!”

Hermione grimaced at him apologetically. “Sorry, it’s too late to stop and I’m not great at controlling this thing, but I promise I’ll do my best to keep him safe and bring him back.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. I’ll make sure all of us are fine.” Hugo gave a beatific, unnerving smile. The sun went behind a cloud, the room went cold and shadowed, and before Scorpius could do anything else, the two of them disappeared, leaving Scorpius’s hand touching nothing in midair.

“Oh no, I’m dead,” Scorpius whispered to the empty room, moving the hand to rub at the headache spiking his temple. “Everyone’s going to kill me.” Maybe he should hide. Hawaii was supposedly very warm and inviting at this time of year and—bonus—he didn’t think his dad knew anyone living there who owed him a favor and would rat Scorpius out.

“Then again, Hugo is with his mom. She was supposedly the level-headed, rational one in the Golden Trio. I’m sure it will be fine. Right?” Dropping his head into his hands, he groaned. “I’m doomed.”

∞⌛∞

Chapter 14:

∞⌛∞

∞2021, November 09—Hogwarts∞

~Hermione Granger (15)~

Looping the golden link around Hugo’s neck, Hermione tried to ignore the little voice in her head scolding her for being reckless and reminding her that time travel was not a game. This was probably a bad idea, but she couldn’t help but sympathize with Hugo’s desires. Books always made her feel better too and Hogwarts: A History was her favorite book. She’d also love to visit an earlier version of Hogwarts to compare it to the one she knew. The thought made her regret not taking the chance to explore this future version of it. As long as she and Hugo didn’t try to change anything and just observed passively, it should be fine.

It should.

And hey, maybe if this visit to the past with Hugo went well, she’d start doing a little historical tourism with her necklace on weekends. Maybe take a holiday. She could bring Harry along to give him a vacation from the stress of the tournament, or maybe they could go back and talk to whoever had created the Goblet of Fire to figure out how to get out of the tournament altogether. It could be fun as long as nothing went wrong.

Dangerous thought.

She shouldn’t forget that a lot had gone wrong when she’d gone back to fix 1981.

Also, what was that Battle of Hogwarts Hugo mentioned? She was afraid of asking too many questions, thinking she could change things, and screwing up something important, which was a classic danger of time travel she’d already fallen victim to, though the thought of a battle taking place at her school and home away from home scared her. Most likely it had something to do with Voldemort and his followers fighting against Harry and Dumbledore.

Hermione wondered who’d lived and who’d died in the battle. Did she live? Old Ron had never mentioned her being in the future, just Harry. Maybe she had died at the battle and that was why he was crying so hard when they first spoke. Morbidly she wondered how she’d died. Had she been alone or fighting side by side with Harry? At least he and Ron had survived. Maybe the sacrifice of her life had saved them and she’d gone out a hero. She hoped so. That would certainly be better than her first death from hubris.

Malfoy’s son abruptly jumped forward and begged to come along with them, but it was too late to stop and reset. Hermione didn’t know how. She apologized to the blond, Hugo reassured his friend, and then—

The world flashed black and everything twisted, turned, screamed, burned.

It felt like she was dying, like she was dead.

∞⌛∞

∞2163, February 22—Potter Family Home∞

~Hermione Granger (15)~

There was nothing.

There was life.

Hermione almost kept her feet, but then Hugo tripped and they both went sprawling, landing on a soft, pretty blue geometric rug. Untangling their limbs, Hermione stood up and pulled Hugo to his feet with a grunt as she looked around. They were in a cheery-looking hallway decorated with framed pictures of smiling people that looked almost familiar, though she didn’t recognize them. Placing a finger to her lips in a warning to keep quiet, she waited for Hugo’s nod and then leaned close to his ear. “This is not Hogwarts. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, mu-ma’am” Hugo whispered back with a stutter. Hermione sighed at Hugo’s formal address as he craned his neck to look around. Hugo gave a silent whistle and pointed towards the front door where a calendar hung above the shoe rack. “Look,” he breathed quietly, “the year says 2163. Is that for real?” The picture for February showed a giggling black-haired toddler with fair skin with an olive undertone wearing a rainbow-striped jacket as she skimmed above the snow on a toy broom with a blond cocker spaniel bounding at her heels and the words, “Great-Great-Grandbaby Yixiao’s First Broom Ride!”

Before Hermione could decide on an answer, the clatter of a dropped cup sounded from a shadowed open door down the hall, followed by the murmur of voices. Hermione was about to suggest they leave when Hugo darted to the doorway down the hall and peeked inside. Knowing it was unwise, but also curious, Hermione followed him.

Inside, she saw a bedroom softly illuminated by the sun’s warm glow coming through and around the drawn curtains. A gorgeous scalloped floral rug added a pop of color and sophistication to the plush blue-gray carpet. The walls were lined with bookshelves stuffed to overflowing with books, knicknacks, and dozens of propped-up homemade cards and pictures that looked to be drawn mostly by children, though a few looked more mature and showcased exquisite details and real artistic talent. Matching white nightstands flanked the large bed, which was covered by a luxurious blue, brown, and green comforter. Hermione couldn’t have designed a more perfect-looking bedroom.

The bedroom decor and bookshelves were so delightful that it took Hermione a moment to realize that there were people inside too. At the top of the bed lay an elderly couple propped up on the same pillow. They lay with hands clasped between their chests, looking into each other’s eyes. Someone’s breathing sounded worryingly labored. Their features were hard to see from this angle, but both had white hair faintly streaked with gray, with the old woman’s hair in corkscrews while the man’s lay thick and straight. Like the pictures on the hallway walls, they seemed familiar, but Hermione couldn’t place them, especially with the lighting so dim at the head of the bed. On the man’s side on the floor lay a fallen cup and a dark patch of rug, source of the sound she’d heard earlier.

“Did you make sure to find placements for all of the house elves? The ones who still want to work? Not the ones retiring, of course.” The old woman’s voice was soft and fretful and her breathing strained. “Did we give them pensions and good references?”

“Yes, my sweet, bossy, beloved wife. We set all that up last week, remember?”

“Oh, yes,” she looked down at their clasped hands and frowned. “What about our memoirs? And all the letters? Did you remember to leave out the letters in a place easy to find for the children?” She paused to catch her breath, then added, “I don’t want the people we love feeling left out or forgotten.” The old woman’s voice sounded like light on the horizon at dusk, that faint glow that outlines the tree tops and mountain peaks just before night painted the sky black so the stars could come out of hiding and shine.

Audibly sighing, the old man rubbed his lips over her fingertips before curling her hand to rest under his chin between his hands. “Yes, for the third time, the memoirs and letters are ready to go, including the ones for all of our many-times great-grandkids, even the ones not born yet. We didn’t forget anyone. They all know we love them, so stop worrying and give in. You don’t need to be so stubborn. I know you’re suffering and I don’t like it.”

Cradling her hand to his cheek, he closed his eyes and breathed against her skin. Bending his head, he pressed a kiss to the base of her hand and said softly, “Sweetheart, it’s time to let go.”

“Ah, time….” With a soft, crooked smile, the old woman looked up and calmly met Hermione’s eyes over her husband’s bowed head, showing no surprise at finding a strange girl watching from the dimly lit hallway.

Hermione couldn’t say the same, having to press a hand over her mouth to keep from gasping in shock as her eyes almost fell out of her head.

“Time has been good to me,” the old woman said, her dark velvety eyes deep and wise. It felt like she was speaking directly to Hermione.

Then the old woman looked down at her husband and her eyes turned adoring. “I’m so glad I got the chance to love you in life.”

“Time has been good to both of us,” he turned her hand and kissed the back, “and our love will continue in death. We still have forever to spend together. Let go.” A cloud passed over the sun and the room dimmed, filling with shadows.

Biting her lip, she gave a quivering little breath and confessed in a rush, “I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m frightened.” Tears welled in her eyes, overflowing to drip down the papery skin of her pale cheeks. “My other deaths weren’t peaceful ones.”

“Shh, shh,” he soothed, leaning forward to kiss away her tears. “This one will be, I promise. Don’t be scared, I’m here. There’s nothing to fear. I’m here and I always will be. I love you. Let go.”

“Our souls… are bound… by love… and time itself,” she said, each breath becoming more labored.

“Yes,” he said, caressing the side of her face and smoothing down her hair. The faint light glistened on the tear tracks running down his cheeks. “Don’t fear, my love, I’m here. Let go and I’ll follow, together forever in life and death. Always and forever.”

“Forever together.” She exhaled shakily. The light in the room dimmed more, swathing the bed in deep shadows.

Chest aching, Hermione closed her eyes. Putting a hand on Hugo’s shoulder, she pulled him away, her eyes stinging and blurring with tears. She didn’t know the couple, but somehow it felt like she was losing a family member or close friend. “We shouldn’t be here.” She scrubbed a hand over her eyes and retreated another step.

“But I want to know—” Hugo broke off with a gasp, his eyes bulging as the veiled woman appeared next to them.

The cloud passed and thick sunlight poured through the crescent moon window on the door like a river of gold, reflecting off something metallic on the woman’s throat beneath her veil and casting sparkling lights around the hallway that, combined with the tears in Hermione’s eyes, made the veiled woman look like she was glowing and made of light. The woman silently pointed a pale finger down the hall. Cowed by her authoritative presence, Hugo and Hermione retreated. The veiled woman kept pace with them, herding them away from the room and watching impassively as Hermione pulled out her necklace, slid out the bookmark pendant, and threw the golden thread over Hugo’s head, activating the necklace to send them home.

“This isn’t your time yet,” the veiled woman said, quiet but firm. “You still have to earn it. You’re on the right track, but remember,” she turned to Hermione, “it’s always better to do it together than to go it alone and assume you know best.” She turned to Hugo, her voice going soft, “And not everything is your fault. It’s okay to be happy and okay to ask for help. You don’t have to do it alone either. Now,” voice regaining its brisk tone, she finished, “let them die together in peace. They’ve earned it.” She flapped her hands at them. “Shoo.”

The world flashed black and everything twisted, turned, screamed, burned.

It felt like she was dying, like she was dead.

∞⌛∞

∞1994, November 11—Hogwarts∞

~Hermione Granger (15)~

There was nothing.

There was life.

Staggering sideways, Hermione managed to dodge Hugo’s windmilling arms and keep her feet even as he belly-flopped onto the floor. Magical travel was so irritating, from Floos to Portkeys to Egyptian time traveling necklaces. Though to be fair, the Ministry Time Turner she’d used last year had very smooth landings since you only moved in time and not place. The room they’d arrived in looked like a Hogwarts classroom, but that wasn’t conclusive evidence that she’d arrived where she wanted to be. Even if it was Hogwarts, the year could be off.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked, watching as Hugo pulled himself to his feet and straightened his robes. She could see Ron and his brothers in the way Hugo moved and his expressions, though she still hadn’t figured out who his mother was yet. She wondered if she’d even met her or if it was someone Ron met and fell in love with after graduation. Thinking of love made her think of the older married couple sharing the wife’s last moments. It was both sweet and sad.

“I’m alright. You?” Hugo said.

“I’m fine, though a little shaken by what we saw.” Hermione bit her lip. “What do you think the veiled woman meant? How much does she know about our futures?”

Huffing, Hugo rolled his eyes. “It sounded like a load of bull to me. She doesn’t know me and I don’t know her. Her ‘so-called’ advice was about as specific as a platitude found inside a fancy chocolate bar wrapper or the bad luck and deaths predicted by the Divination Professor for students each year. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Blinking at his words, Hermione blushed, feeling embarrassed. “I suppose you’re right. It was pretty vague.”

“She was probably a fraud and just wanted to stop us from disturbing her friends.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Hermione still felt unsettled, but pushed it to the back of her mind as she moved to the classroom door. “This looks like Hogwarts, but I’m not sure if it’s my present time or not. Let me check.” Bracing her hands against the frame of the door, she carefully poked her head out into the hall.

“Hey, Hermione,” Neville nodded agreeably as he walked past with a box full of plants, a black line of soil trailing behind him on the floor.

“Hello, Neville,” she said on autopilot as something in her stomach unclenched in relief. He looked to be at the right stage of puberty for his fourth year, so this should be her present time. Thank goodness. Her memories fit too, with it feeling like the second week of November, though a few days later than she’d left the last time.

Going back into the classroom, she smiled at Hugo. “I think we did it this time. Welcome to November of 1994.”

“Great!” He flashed a close-mouthed smile and rubbed his hands together, though his eyes looked nervous instead of excited, belying his words.

Determined to put him at ease and be a good host, Hermione held out her hand with a flourish. “C’mon, I’ll show you around. If anyone asks who you are, we’ll say you had an accident while playing around with personal transfiguration and we’re waiting for your face to return to normal, then let them guess your name and house. It’ll be fun.” She smiled and waved him out into the hall.

Playing tour guide was unexpectedly fun, as Hugo hung on her every word. It was quite flattering. Usually Ron started getting glazed eyes after barely ten minutes and Harry’s best was perhaps an hour. Hugo was untiring, eyes locked on her face, full of intelligent questions and observations, still engaged and eager after over two hours. Hermione was tiring faster than he was.

“This was great, thank you so much for showing me around and spending time with me,” Hugo said wistfully as they came out onto the roof of the Astronomy tower.

Looking at the position of the sun low in the pale blue sky, Hermione sighed. “It has been fun, but we’re almost at dinner and I’ve got class tomorrow. We should be getting you back to your friends.”

“One more question then,” Hugo took a deep breath. “Can you tell me how your necklace works?” He looked at it keenly. “I’ve never seen anything like it and I’ve read a lot of books on Egyptian necklaces. It’s beautiful and you wear it very well, almost like it was made for you.”

Flattered, Hermione smiled and blushed. “Thank you, though I warn you, there’s a lot I still don’t know about the necklace and how it works, but I can tell you what I’ve discovered so far through trial and error.” Turning so her shadow fell at her back and put the necklace in sunlight, she pointed at the bookmark pendant and explained what she’d discovered so far. It was very freeing to finally have someone to talk to about it.

After several minutes, she wrapped up her explanation. Sighing and grimacing, Hugo looked around the deserted roof anxiously, crossing and uncrossing his arms and shifting his feet. He looked at the ground and went still.

“Are you alright?” she asked. Maybe she’d gone on too long and bored or offended him. Hugo didn’t answer, sucking on his lip and staring sightlessly at the ground. “Hugo?” She gently touched his arm, starting to worry it might be something more serious. “Hugo?”

Blinking rapidly, he finally focused on her. “Huh?”

“I asked if you were alright.”

Hugo’s eyes looked wet and glassy. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Head tilting, Hermione worked to keep a gentle and non-judgemental expression on her face. She hadn’t expected the tears. “I enjoyed showing you around today. You were a perfect gentleman and asked a lot of intelligent questions.”

Expression twisting as a tear trickled down his cheek, he looked at her helplessly. “I feel so guilty right now. I-I’m sorry.” He smeared the tear away with the back of his hand as his voice flipped from sad to feverish. “I feel bad, but I have to fix it. I just want to save her. You understand, don’t you?”

“Save who?” she asked carefully. He’d seemed sweet and harmless all day, but now he was making her uneasy.

“I just—I just love you so much,” he said.

Hermione froze in shock. Trying not to look as horrified as she felt, her mind raced, trying to find the right words to turn him down gently. “Hugo, you’re a nice boy, but you barely know me. I’m sorry, but we’re from different times. I’m the same age as your father. It’s impossible. I’m sure you’ll get over me soon and find some nice girl from your time, but we’re not going to work out.”

“You don’t understand,” Hugo said with a wet laugh. “I can’t get over losing you, mum. It haunts me. I just wanted to spend more time with you, but you’re my age and it’s crazy and strange. You’re you but not you yet. I miss you. I need to make this work. It’s my fault you died and I’m so sorry.” He gave a hiccuping sob. “Oh, mum, I miss you so much. Don’t hate me.”

“Mum?” Hermione whispered, eyes wide. “I’m your mum? Me?” She felt winded and flipped sideways, like she’d just taken a portkey.

Hugo nodded, lower lip tucked between his teeth. At her stunned silence he added, “My parents are Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.”

Somehow, she’d never considered that she might be Hugo’s mom. She felt blindsided. This meant she’d married Ron and had kids with him, only to die young and leave those kids behind. Dying young was bad enough, but the fact that at some point she’d fallen in love with and married Ron felt more pressing and confusing. Did she want to marry Ron? He didn’t even like books that much, though her conversation with Hugo today made it clear that her son did. She and Hugo even had the same favorite book—Hogwarts: A History. That had been a big fat clue that she’d completely overlooked. While she’d been friends with Ron for years, she wasn’t sure she even liked Ron very much lately, especially after he’d turned on Harry when the Goblet spat out Harry’s name. Ron’s looks were alright, but there were other boys at school much more attractive. He also didn’t respect her much or share many of her interests, much less flirt with her or compliment her looks. How had a relationship between them even worked?

This was crazy.

“Are you mad at me? Disappointed that I’m your son?” Hugo asked in a small quivering voice, and Hermione remembered that this boy was sad and suffering.

Looking at his face, she could see hints of herself there now that she was looking. Her heart lurched. “Oh no, Hugo, not at all. I like you, I was just surprised. It’s a good surprise. Anyone would be proud to have you for a son.” Falling back on instinct, ignoring the awkwardness, she opened her arms and asked, “I may not be the mother you know, but do you want a hug?”

Tears overflowed his eyes and dripped down his cheeks. Blinking his wet, clumping eyelashes, Hugo nodded meekly and said, “Yes, please,” creeping forward as if afraid she’d change her mind.

Reaching out, Hermione hugged him close and squeezed, marveling that this boy bigger than she was would be her future child, still trying to wrap her head around it. Her relationship with him might not be clear, but one thing was—he needed her caring and support. She would happily give him that. Running her hand down his back, she said, “Shh, it’s going to be alright. We’re fine, Hugo. Shh.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, burying his face in her hair with a sob.

Rubbing his back, she tried to calm him down. “It’s fine. You’re fine. Shh shh.”

Hugo hugged her back tightly, his fingers clutching at her back and shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m sorry.” She felt a tug as his cold fingers slid under her hair and across her skin on the back of her neck, making her shiver. Then, between one breath and the next, her necklace slithered off her neck and Hugo jumped back.

He stared at her with fevered eyes, the Egyptian necklace clutched in his hand. “I’m sorry. I love you, mum. I’m sorry. You’ll understand later.” Wrapping it around his neck as he backpedaled, he tugged down the bookmark tablet and activated the necklace.

“Hugo, what are you doing? Stop! Give that back to me.” Hermione chased after him, holding out her hand. She thought about going for her wand but feared it was already too late. “You don’t know what you’re doing. It’s too dangerous. Stop!”

“I can’t stop. I have to fix this, for all of us,” he said, darting away each time she tried to move closer, showing his experience at the game of keep-away.

A man stepped out of the long, dark shadow cast by the balustrade. Hermione recognized her friend the hooded man, though something about him seemed a lot more intimidating, like he’d gotten more experience with being scary. “Don’t you dare!” he shouted, lunging for Hugo with his arm extended. “Take that off!”

The shadows swelled at Hugo’s feet even as he popped away with the necklace. The hooded man dived after him, disappearing too.

Blinking rapidly, Hermione looked around, finding herself alone on the roof. Her throat felt strangely light without the weight and warmth of the Egyptian necklace. She’d gotten used to wearing it everywhere.

Everything had just gotten a lot more complicated, though from her point of view stuck in the past taking the long way around, perhaps it had gotten more simple. She didn’t have to worry about either resisting temptation or justifying her use of the necklace anymore, so that was probably good. And if Hugo saved her future self, she’d no longer die young. If he didn’t, she might still die, but not for years yet. Either way, there was nothing she could do about it now. Maybe she should’ve asked Hugo about the details of her death, but part of her was glad not to know the exact date. Everyone died someday. Worrying about her death would be a pointless waste of energy, especially when she had so many other things to stress about.

That meant it would also be a waste of energy and time to stress over how she was going to fulfill her third wish now that the necklace was gone. Reaching behind her back, she slid her hand inside her shirt, feeling the raised edge of the curved curse scar proving that Duat hadn’t been a hallucination or nightmare. It had happened, meaning that if she didn’t give Harry a supportive adult growing up, they’d both end up dead again, though Voldemort would too, so at least that was a slight comfort. Thoth was supposed to grant her wish or give her a way to make it happen. She’d hoped for the former, but had a feeling it would turn out to be the latter, especially since as far as she knew, that adult hadn’t shown up for Harry yet. Sirius Black did not count and Professor Lupin had almost disappeared from Harry’s life once he left the school, taking months to respond to Harry’s letters. No, she was probably going to have to solve that one herself, though she had no idea how since the most supportive person in Harry’s life seemed to be herself and she wasn’t an adult. She didn’t know what to do about it, but it was a problem for another day.

Instead, she should focus on getting Harry through the Triwizard Tournament in one piece and on prepping for her O.W.L. exams. Hermione also had to figure out what to do about Ron. Although he was fighting with Harry now, she didn’t think the argument would last forever. He’d have to come to his senses sooner or later and when that happened, they’d all become friends again.

But did she want to marry Ron one day? Staring out over the castle grounds as the sun sank behind the horizon, she felt cold and shivered. Not really, she silently answered her question. Though if they did marry, it wouldn’t be for years yet. Maybe it was better to marry a friend than end up a lonely old spinster cat lady. Of course Hermione wanted to be a successful career woman, but she’d also always wanted the close and loving companionship found in a family. When she came home each night from her dream job, she wanted children to snuggle and a husband to adore. She was tired of being lonely. Ron could give her that and lots of extra family too. Besides, no one else seemed interested in her romantically. She wasn’t cute like Lavender, fashionable like Parvati, or fun like Angelina. She barely even had any friends outside of Harry and Ron, and Ron was barely speaking to her since she’d sided with Harry.

Hermione wasn’t one to lie to herself. She knew her romantic prospects were slim. She and Harry had never even been in the running as a couple. She wasn’t Harry’s type and he only saw her as a friend and pseudo-sister. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t even been interested in romance until this year when he’d had his head turned by Cho Chang and a few of the other Quidditch girls. He liked girls with sleek hair who were spunky and sporty. Ginny Weasley, still obsessed with dating him, had taken note and started copying Cho’s style and mannerisms, even secretly begging Quidditch lessons from the older girls in Gryffindor so she could try out for the team next year. Hermione, who liked Ginny when she wasn’t acting out to catch the attention of Harry or to spite her family, hoped she was wrong and that the younger girl was doing it because she enjoyed the sport and not just to get close to Harry.

No matter who Harry ended up liking, Hermione was determined to be supportive. She’d never want to make Harry uncomfortable or demand more than he was willing to give. Putting their relationship inside strict mental borders, she’d accepted long ago that they would be platonic and very close friends, closer even than siblings, but nothing more. She could be content with that. Harry was her best friend and the most important relationship in her life.

Which made her circle back to Ron. Should she try to fall for him? If she didn’t, what would happen to poor Hugo? She’d probably loved Hugo a lot and been close with him before she died, with how broken up he seemed over losing her. She couldn’t imagine not loving and adoring one of her children. She already had a soft spot for Hugo and they’d only met twice.

Ron had his good qualities too. She’d never have been friends with him otherwise. Maybe her future self knew something about Ron that her current self didn’t. Maybe they’d both changed and matured for the better, finding love and happiness together before she’d unexpectedly died. Maybe Ron had been lost without her and fallen to vice, which had landed him in prison and turned him into a sad old man. Maybe he really needed her, maybe Ron and Hugo both really needed her.

The tower bell rang, calling students to the Great Hall for dinner. Raising her chin, Hermione decided to be brave and bold, stop worrying, and go for it. She was going to trust Hugo with the necklace and open her heart to Ron.

After all, who knows? Maybe they’d pleasantly surprise her.

∞⌛∞

~Narrator~

Dearest readers, Hermine did find herself surprised by the actions of Hugo and Ron, but not for several more years and not in the way she’d hoped. I’m sorry to say that these surprises were not pleasant at all.

Harry Potter also made choices that sent his life in a different direction than Hermione had expected. It surprised her a lot. That surprise, I’m happy to report, turned out to be very, very pleasant.

However, that is a tale for another story.

∞⌛∞

END OF PART 2

in The Infinite Loop Of Love And Good Intentions Series

Our story continues in

Part 3—Hoping The Next Carries Your Name

 

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