Beginning Notes:

I haven't read the Cursed Child, but the moment I heard about a "true" Time-Turner, I was on it like a moth to a flame. And I watched Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them a week ago, so, this story was born. The edition of FABWTFT that I reference to in the chapter is the one JK Rowling published in 2001, where Ron, Harry and Hermione all wrote in. The comments are fairly amusing and it's a nice read. And one last thing, I will be focusing on the Book-verse, so nothing in the movies will be in this story, sorry!

There are moments that define a person's whole life.

Moments in which everything they are and everything they may possibly become

balance on a single decision.

- Jonathon Maberry

The Infinite Monkey Theorem stated that an unlimited number of monkeys, given typewriters and sufficient time, would eventually produce a particular text, such as the complete works of Shakespeare. So theoretically, Hermione Granger was destined to meet Newt Scamander no matter how random the encounter may seem, with her life's typewriter a Time-Turner stuck in a loop of being smashed over and over again. And if given an infinite number of chances, it was inevitable that they would fall in love. But that was only possible if Hermione stood true to herself, a testament to her once in a lifetime selfishness, and whether or not she cared for the rules of history's delicate playground this very moment. There was always something about fate, bittersweet endings and all in between when it came to stories as impossible as hers.

Hermione stumbled upon this theory before she entered Hogwarts. There had been a book that caught her eye within one of her father's bookshelves. It was at the very bottom and to the far right, meaning that it was easily forgettable and mostly bought because it had managed to garner Horatio Granger's attention. And Hermione was right from her deduction, for the book had bored her as well. She could not remember its title, but found the gold lettering on the black cover to be satisfactory. Not being able to recall fully, she did know that she spent no more than forty five minutes with the book in her hand, her eyes devouring the information only to discover that after she turned the page, she had no clue as to what she was even reading and what was exactly interesting about it. Hermione promptly closed the book, returning it to the graveyard at the bottom shelf.

And the monkeys she thought of no more.

The day that shifted everything in Hermione's life half a meter to the left was an unassuming one. A day that the monkeys began to type and Hermione would have laughed as if she were sitting in the middle of Divination. It was the early morning when she had been digging through old boxes within her flat with the efficiency of a divorcee and not a nostalgic. Although she had been certain that she packed solely her things, a nagging voice, gentle but present at the back of her mind, was telling her to double check. For the last thing she needed was Ron appearing at her door and demanding she give back whatever she accidentally and apparently stole.

At the age of thirty, Hermione was certain she'd be fully silver before her fortieth birthday. A snore from Crookshanks sleeping on her desk made her snort, a small, almost relieved smile twitched her lips. While human males were currently not in her well wishes, she still had her cat. Recently celebrating nineteen years of life, he certainly was no longer the fireball she knew in her time at Hogwarts, and spent more time napping in the oddest of places than chasing any butterfly that managed to fly through the window. But he provided a comfort she could no longer receive from Ron, as tragic and pathetic as that sounded.

It had been two weeks since her divorce from Ron was finalized, with the two parting on civil yet rocky terms. It would be a while before Ron could return to being her friend, let alone her best friend, but for now, she appreciated the silence and his lack of calls. Hermione wasn't sure where to pinpoint when exactly she realized she didn't truly love her husband. Sincerely she loved him, but not in the way that was expected from an almost ten year marriage. Perhaps Ron asked for her hand too early, and her acceptance was more out of obligation because everyone seemed to think they would spend forever together. That notion bothered her, at first starting as a little pessimistic beat in her heart before becoming a steady drumming that finally ceased when she removed Weasley from her name.

She didn't regret her marriage. None of it. Not really. Even if they didn't get the chance to have children. She and Ron made many happy memories together, ones that she could cherish and wouldn't feel ashamed to look at whenever she opened up her scrapbook. Hell, she was positive that one of her boxes even had a framed photo from their time at Fiji. Hermione laughed to herself when she thought of Ron tripping and getting a mouthful of sand to the point where he still felt grains whenever he pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth.

Hermione shook her head to disperse the memory and continued rummaging through several boxes at once, placing little trinkets Saul Croaker had given her off to the side to be put away in a cabinet later. Saul Croaker, an aging Unspeakable that was best at what he did. It was an odd friendship that the two developed over the past two years. During her time in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she had saved him from a particularly feisty Doxy unhappy with its imprisonment and also very confident in getting its venomous teeth sunk into Saul's arm for no other reason than Saul was the first person it had encountered since its escape. Saul thanked Hermione profusely and shook her hand as if she were the Prime Minister. The encounter was amusing to say the least, since she seldom saw the Unspeakable, and the one time she got to talk to him was when he was screaming through the Ministry at the top of his lungs.

It seemed that in the moments of raw fear, even the most powerful of wizards forget to use simple stunning spells.

"Oh, look at you," Hermione gasped softly, reaching into a frayed box with the delicacy of a jewel thief. Her fingers gently held the book, and she was mindful of the cover that was no doubt falling apart. "How did you get in here?" she smiled and rubbed the dust off the book.

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander.

Hermione was certain that she had lost her prized treasure, the one she had bought during her time in Hogwarts, when she was in Egypt and was too distraught to think of even buying a replacement. And if this wasn't hers, it was most likely Harry's, since he'd take any chance of dumping unwanted books into her possession when she wasn't looking. Not that she complained. And her thoughts were correct when she gingerly opened it and saw three distinct handwritings glaring back at her from the yellowing pages.

"Property of Harry Potter," she read with a twinkle of mirth in her eye, "shared by Ron Weasley because his fell apart." Hermione pressed the book to her face, having trouble trying to smother her childish giggles.

Hermione closed the book and placed it beside Crookshanks and mentally noted to give it a read before bed. More for the comments that she, Harry and Ron wrote down than the actual contents of Newt's work, which she clearly knew like the back of her hand.

Believing that the other boxes held no importance, she continued searching through the frayed box in which she found the book. Her fingertips brushed against old journals and a scarf with the Gryffindor colors. She shook her head, tossing the former over her shoulder and then wrapped the scarf around her neck. Hermione almost burst into tears when she saw her S.P.E.W badge tucked next to an empty frame. Out of obligation she pinned it to her tank top, patting it with pride.

How far she had come.

Slowly, she let go of her feelings on the divorce and allowed herself the nostalgia she knew not why she craved, breathing in the material of the scarf and believing she was currently smelling Butterbeer. If Hermione really did accidentally take one of Ron's things, then he would have shown up for them by now unless he was purposely avoiding her. Which he was. And it was understandable.

She missed being a part of the Golden Trio. While they were all still treated as such, it felt more like a title bearing the burden of a legacy than a friendship that started because of a Troll in the bathroom and lasted long enough to get them through a war. Harry and Ron became fixated on ridding the corruption within the Ministry once they were appointed Aurors. It was a miracle that she even managed to see them as she finished her schooling at Hogwarts. A small part of her wished that they would have joined her. Maybe it would have made a difference as to who they were today.

It had been hard at first without them, the memories of the war too recent to the point whenever she entered the Great Hall all she could see were the bodies that had been lined up with sheets covering them. Remus and Tonks among them. It was nearly impossible to not chase the ghosts back to the places where they were once people, each corner of Hogwarts becoming a place to relive a memory than to attain her N.E.W.T.s. Often her feet led her to the Defense against the Dark Arts room without warrant or she'd go searching for the Room of Requirement despite knowing fully well that it was more than likely destroyed.

Not to mention the constant whispers and questions from those who had not been a part of the Battle. Often she found herself wishing to be normal-yet-incredibly smart student Hermione Granger and not Hermione Granger, the war hero.

Continuing her nostalgic search, at the very bottom, a black velvet box that she could fit in the palm of her hand caught her eye. Hermione almost missed it at her first, her gaze having first found a handkerchief with Viktor Krum's initials. She was unsure how she even got around to owning that, but that was a story for another day as she pushed it to the side and retrieved the box.

"To Hermione Granger," she murmured, reading the small note attached, plucking it from the silver string it was attached to. Her eyes narrowed, attempting to find any clue what might be in the box. And to make matters even more peculiar, the handwriting was nearly identical to hers.

Hermione grabbed her wand and set the small box in the middle of her room. She used several revealing charms, trying to find any hex that could spring at her if she had carelessly opened it. After several moments of finding nothing to be of danger, she curiously opened it without hesitation and nearly dropped the box at the sight that greeted her.

Her jaw dropped as the early morning light bathed upon intricate gold. "Blimey." Other times she would berate herself for allowing Ron's vocabulary to mix with hers, but she paid no mind to it now. She knew a Time-Turner when she saw one.

But this one seemed different, smaller than the one she returned to the Ministry and there was a lack of as many words save for one: Prototyptum. Prototype. Oxygen was vital to her existence, but Hermione found herself incapable of drawing breath as she cradled the Time-Turner. She curled her fingers slowly, believing that once she opened her head, it would be gone. But she felt it, as if it were sentient, the hourglass providing a warmth that almost made her giddy.

Hermioned paced back in forth, her excitement melting into anxiety, which filled the room enough to shake Crookshanks from his sleep. In annoyance he purposely kicked off her book from the desk and mischievously watched it slam against the wooden floor. What a vengeful cat. She did not heed his childishness and allowed her thoughts to consume her. Her acquirement of a Time-Turner meant she needed to get it to the Unspeakables as quickly as possible. However, giving it up meant they'd only ask her where she got it from, and that would in turn lead to suspicion. Suspicion she wasn't ready to exactly handle, for it felt like she was a disappointment, a failure.

On the other hand, if Hermione kept it, something bad might happen or she might feel tempted to go back in time, to do something rash in the middle of an emotional moment. While her nightmares were not as prominent as they were twelve years ago, they still affected her greatly.

She was only human after all.

A groan she realized came from her filled her ears as she stopped in front of the wall to bang her forehead softly against it. Hermione didn't see herself achieving any favorable outcomes. She was, in simple terms, very screwed.

Deciding to put it off to deal with later, Hermione returned the Time-Turner to the black velvet box and placed it beside her quill holder. She retrieved FBAWTFT from the floor to place it within her library and pushed the thought of the Time-Turner to the back of her mind. There was no better time to eat breakfast and catch up on some reading. She would settle on an option by noon.

Φ

Hermione did, in fact, lie, and had not actually made a decision on what to do with the Time-Turner. The sun had already set with the full moon high in the sky, and the Time-Turner was still within its black velvet box. Just as she had left it. She did a good job at pretending she wasn't a nervous wreck. She even managed to convince herself that everything would turn out alright if she only continued to put off the inevitable.

Crookshanks huffed in irritation from where he laid on Hermione's chest as she laughed for the fourth time that evening. Her shaking roused him from his sleep far more than he would like, and he ultimately jumped down, a low growl accompanying him towards her room. She had read a particular amusing note Harry left behind, another snigger leaving her mouth when she reread it. It was below the entry of the Hungarian Horntail, "Supposedly the most dangerous of all dragon breeds." Harry's scribble had sarcasm peppered in every letter as an arrow pointed to the sentence: You're not kidding.

She sighed softly, knowing that Harry was incapable of forgetting the Tri-Wizard Tournament and would remain bitter about it (not in reference to Cedric's death, of course). Who could, really? It changed all of them, even Viktor and Fleur. Hermione could still recall George and Fred attempting to place their names in the Goblet of Fire like it happened yesterday. The thought of Fred still rubbed her heart raw emotionally.

Hermione idly flipped back to the page of with Newt's biography, for a moment, wondering what it would have been like to live in his time. While it would not mean her life would get easier, it certainly was a nice escape from everything. Even if it meant for just a little while. She bit her bottom lip, her thoughts dangerously moving towards the Time-Turner.

To distract herself she read the contents of the page before ultimately stopping where it mentioned his wife. Except, there was no wife. Hermione furrowed her brows as she looked to where his wife's name should be, but only found blurred words that hurt her eyes. It looked like the words were changing and rearranging, unable to choose, unsure of what the final product would bring forth.

She slowly closed the book, no longer amused and a little freaked out, glancing at her clock to see it was only an hour before she usually ate dinner, but found herself with no motivation to head into the kitchen to cook. She craned her neck to search for Crookshanks, cautious of his silence as she laid there on the couch. Hermione placed the book in the crook of her arm and made her way towards her room, fixing her right braid and then checking her left for any loose strands while she walked. As satisfied as she could be with her stubborn hair, she poked her head into her room, finding Crookshanks with his back towards from the door, sitting in her chair, his tail swishing from side to side. A look of false innocence.

"Crookshanks?" her eyes narrowed in suspicion. She tapped the pocket of her black trousers to confirm her wand was still there in case she needed to stun the cat as a last resort. "What are you doing?"

Up to no good, no doubt.

He turned his head toward her, and her heart dropped to the middle of her stomach. Of course he would have the Time-Turner in his mouth. Of course she had forgotten to close the velvet box after returning the Time-Turner to its cushion. And of course in the midst of her anxiety, she would forget her biggest threat: her own pet. Fate only laughed at Hermione, and she could only shake her fist back in anger as any Gryffindor in her position would. Or at least Harry and Ron.

"Crookshanks." Her voice cracked as she slowly tip toed to him with her hands outstretched. "Give the Time-Turner to Mum. If you drop it, you might end up in Ancient Greece or something." Hermione winced. "You don't want that, right?" she took another step closer.

She cursed the fact the Time-Turner was without a chain. It rested in his mouth as if it belonged there, and she could see his tongue pressing against the hourglass. He stared at her naively, not for a second knowing that he technically had a ticking time bomb between his teeth.

And it was here, at this exact second, when the shift began. Hermione had gotten close enough that if she leaned forward and stretched her fingers, she could reach his chin. But she did not expect the box that had been moved half a meter to the left.

Hermione yelped when her foot collided with the box of old textbooks, and the noise startled Crookshanks who was very displeased with Hermione's unfortunate tragedy with gravity. The Time-Turner fell out of his mouth and tumbled to the floor. Ironically, time seemed to slow down as she watched the Time-Turner roll toward her before stopping exactly where her chest would end up connecting with the floor. She panicked, attempting to grab at anything to stop her fall. It proved futile when grabbing her bag hanging off the chair only tipped everything backwards.

Hermione closed her eyes as the Time-Turner shattered against her, glass and metal digging into her skin so painfully she thought it was trying to reach her heart. She didn't even have the time to react when gold glitter and white wisps swarmed her vision. Hermione could only pray that she didn't end up somewhere as far back as the sixteenth century. Or worse, stuck in a never ending loop of tripping and falling much like the Time-Turners back in the Ministry. But there was one thing Hermione knew and stood by:

She was going to strangle Crookshanks once she got back to the future.

End Notes:

If you have an questions feel free to ask! It means I'm doing my job correctly. And I'm 99% sure that any question you ask will eventually be answered by the story itself. If not, I will respond to you in the End Notes. And actually, before you do ask, which I believe one of you will, yes that is in fact my interpretation of Book!Hermione in the cover picture (:

Apologies if there are any mistakes in the chapter by the way, sometimes my eyes don't catch them in time.