In a house, in front of a park, there lived a witch. Not a gothic, gloomy, gruesome, grotesque or grimy house, filled with human bones and blood, or arcane runes and symbols, nor yet a gingerbread and cake house, with panes of clear sugar. No, it was the house of a at-the-cusp-of 21st century teenage witch and that meant electricity, running water, telephone and sliced bread, and a much, much better interior decoration sense.

The said witch, was named Hermione Granger. And that fine early July morning, sunny and warm, found Miss Granger, sitting under a huge oak in the park in front of her house, along with one of her favourite books, The Hobbit. Miss Granger, a 14 years old, with wild, untameable bushy brown mane of hair and slightly larger than average front two teeth, was home from her 3rd year at her boarding school, Hogwarts, since last week of June, and now with the dawning of July, was feeling extremely restless.

And reason for her restlessness was no one other than her best friend, Harry Potter.

Since the beginning of her holidays she had been waiting for any communication from him, like he had promised before leaving Hogwarts. And when she did receive it last night, it was not via the usual Hedwig, with her graceful flirt and a flutter, but a phone call! A phone call! After living at Hogwarts for 10 months every year for 3 years, without any electronic device, it seemed somewhat like a cultural shock to her when she heard his voice on the phone. Earlier she was able to segregate the magical and non-magical parts in her brain quite easily. But when Harry called, to say she was surprised would be an understatement. And if she was surprised by the mode of communication, she was intrigued by the content of communication itself. All he asked was if she had any plans for the vacations yet, and when she replied in negative, he just said, "Good! Don't make any. I'll be by soon, with the plans for holidays!" and then he hung up.

At first she was miffed by his hurried manner, but then soon, her curiosity and inquisitive nature took over. Her parents had been debating their holiday plans since the start of summer. Her father wanted a lazy summer of laying out on some Mediterranean beach whole month reading his favourite literature. Her mother, on the other hand, wanted a whirlwind trip of jumping from museum to museum, soaking in history and culture. They were hashing out the details, bargaining with threats of revealing embarrassing secrets and bartering with favours and gifts, with each other. So when Hermione informed her parents of the phone call, they were both equally miffed at first and then curious and inquisitive.

They had left for their dental practice early in the morning, and feeling restless alone at home, Hermione had taken one of her favourite books and walked to her old favourite spot under the giant oak. But even with the book open, her mind was miles afar. There were so many questions bursting in her mind, like those fireworks that the Weasley twins used. What were Harry and Sirius up to? What had they done after leaving Hogwarts? How long were they gone? What was the extent to which Harry had changed? Who was this Tonks? And what was her relationship with Harry? What were these plans Harry was talking about? Was Ron with him? Had Harry informed him? Or Professor Dumbledore? Professor Lupin? And the most general and the most infuriating of them all, What the Hell was going on? Never in the last 3 years, had she felt so much out of loop with the things. Especially as she was best friends with Harry Potter! She was used to knowing things. The boy was a walking, talking trouble-magnet! Things just happened around him. And for past 3 years, one way or the other she was right beside him in each of their clockwork-like annual end-of-the-term world-saving adventures. But this year, something else happened...

Perhaps it would be better if she started at the beginning of it all. It began; as did most of the extraordinary (even from the perspective of a witch), unplanned (her meticulous planning OCD part) and dangerous (a small part of her subconscious responsible for instinct of self preservation, which just took a hike whenever Harry had one of his those annual moments) things in her life; with her aforementioned best friend, one Harry Potter. It was all going according to the playing-it-by-the-ear-plan of going back 3 hours in time, using a Time-Turner to save Harry's godfather Sirius (a falsely-incarcerated, escaped but recaptured; innocent but assumed mass-murderer) and Buckbeak (a cute, cuddly, innocent animal with half foot long talons which can shred a man to bones in seconds and a beak which can crush a skull with a single snap and which did maul Malfoy's arm. But it is Malfoy, so who cares?), fighting off an entire horde of Dementors, playing hide and seek with a werewolf, flying up the astronomy tower and opening the window of Sirius' room (another offence punishable by prolonged imprisonment), before giving him the hippogriff...when by chance, by divine intervention, or by the probability manipulation (quite common around Harry Potter), or as The Wise may say, a random Wrackspurt, on the top of astronomy tower, a single beam of light from the full moon fell on the Time-Turner around her neck, reflected, and caught the eye of Sirius Black. And in a moment of strange clarity, in midst of all the confusion and madness, he asked, "Is that a Time-Turner?"

A single line and suddenly, deep down in her subconscious, Hermione felt as if some huge grand play had been interrupted, as if a monkey-wrench had been thrown in the cosmic cog-wheel of fate and storytelling, as if someone had suddenly pulled a lever and shunted the fast moving train of life on a whole different track at the last moment, an instrument of change which turns a regular canon story into an alternate universe fanfiction which some poor budding writer wrote as a tribute to his muse, but never even got near to being as good as the original.

The next couple of things happened quite suddenly, and were quite hazy in Hermione's memories, Sirius talking about something to Harry, that mad mischievous gleam in Sirius' eyes, Sirius and Harry both climbing on Buckbeak, Sirius asking her for the Time-Turner, herself protesting against all this madness, Sirius assuring her that Harry and himself will be safe, that Harry will meet her before she reached back the Hospital Wing, herself giving the Time-Turner, hesitatingly, to Sirius against her better judgement, Harry waving her a half-confident goodbye, Sirius telling her the exact route she needed to take, Sirius squeezing Buckbeak's sides with his heels, taking off in a gallop and fall of enormous wings, disappearing behind a cloud across the moon. The moment of panic she felt, standing there alone, immobile with fear, staring at the spot in the dark sky where they had disappeared...before hearing footsteps just behind her, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, on verge of a breakdown and then;...a tug on her sleeves.

"Hermione! We've got exactly ten minutes to get back."

Relief flooded her. She spun around, it was Harry! But it was not the Harry who had just left with Sirius. Something was different about him, she couldn't pinpoint it out. She instantly noticed that mad, mischievous gleam in his eyes, so much similar to Sirius', or the slight confident, slight cocky smirk, which seemed totally alien on his face, unfazed that they were standing at the scene of a crime, that if caught they were liable to be thrown in jail, maybe even expelled! He was wearing same clothes, was of same size, but seemed older. He held his hand out and returned her the Time-Turner which she quickly put around her neck and tucked it under her robes, without even looking at it, too busy studying him.

He pulled out his wand and tapped her head with it. There was a faint white light and she felt as if a raw egg had been cracked onto her head. "Disillusionment charm," he said quietly. Still mute, from his abrupt departure, her panic-ridden brain and his sudden return, she merely nodded, before mentally smacking herself upon realizing that she was partially invisible. But Harry seemed to understand her as he gave her a reassuring smile before tapping his own head with his wand and disappearing from view. She sort of felt him waving his wand around a couple of times, "Sound Dampening and Odour Hiding Charms", his disembodied voice informed her again, then tugged at her hand and led her quietly and confidently through the doorway behind them and down a tightly spiralling stone staircase. Hermione was surprised, despite her pounding heart at his casual ease at casting complex charms, and that too silently. Just how much hours had Sirius and Harry gone back! At bottom, they heard Fudge and Snape's voices. They seemed to be walking along the next corridor, but Harry paid them no heed and carried on pulling her along. Along next corridor they heard a cackling ahead.

"Peeves!" Harry muttered under his breath, grabbed Hermione's wrist and tore into a deserted classroom just in time. As they waited for Peeves' voice to fade away, Harry suddenly pulled her close and hugged her tightly, "I missed you." He whispered in her hair. Hermione was again surprised, first Harry was never the emotional types, never even initiated a touch or hug, let alone a declaration of missing her, second, just for how long had he been gone, that he missed her. "How much turns did you two go back? Is he safe?" she asked. He released her from hug, his faint camouflaged outline checked his wristwatch before listening closely at the door, and replied without turning back to her, "He is safe. Don't worry. We have 1 minute left." They were moving again. In the last corridor, Harry waved his wand, dispelling his various charms, as the Hospital Wing door opened and Dumbledore's back appeared.

They heard Dumbledore say something to the occupants of the hospital wing, and both of them hurried forward. Dumbledore looked up, a wide smile on his face, quite reminiscent of a small kid who had stolen a cookie from right under his mother's nose and gotten away with it. "Well?" he asked quietly.

"Done." Replied Harry, equally quietly, "I would suggest that you open up your office fireplace floo, sir. Madame Bones must be on her way, to begin a proper investigation in this whole case."

Dumbledore raised a surprised eyebrow at him, "You certainly seemed to have made quite an effective use of your time, Harry. Very well." He raised his wand, made an elaborate motion which ended with a snap like sound, like an electric switch signalling opening of his floo. Then gestured them inside the doors, and locked the doors with a click behind them.

Madame Pomfrey was soon fussing over them, handling them chocolate which they silently accepted, while they waited, listening, nerves on edge. They were on their 4th piece of chocolate when they heard a distant furious scream.

"What was that?" asked Madame Pomfrey, alarmed.

They could hear angry voices nearing, now discernable as belonging to Snape and Fudge. The door flew open, Snape striding in, his face etched in fury, followed by Fudge and Dumbledore. Dumbledore looked calm, actually, he seemed to be enjoying himself. The same mischievous smug smile still on his face.

"OUT WITH IT, POTTER! Snape bellowed, "WHAT DID YOU DO?"

Madam Pomfrey was about to say something, when Harry suddenly stood up and walked up to Snape until they stood almost nose to nose. Harry seemed to have changed in a few seconds. He seemed to have grown taller, and although he was still shorter than Snape, he stared down at him. Hermione noticed that his face had changed too. Not morphed or transformed like Polyjuice Potion. It held a stony expression with a mixture of smugness and derision. His lips curled in the same slight confident slight cocky smirk. Shadows seemed to suddenly cling to his face, while his eyes shone forth, two brilliant green emeralds, that held that same mad mischievous gleam, reminiscent of Sirius. It was the same face, but still Hermione could say that she had never seen that careless, don't-give-a-damn-expression on his face, and it made him look like a very different person. She heard a gasp from Madam Pomfrey, even Dumbledore raised a surprised eyebrow for a moment.

But the reaction from Snape was most profound. It looked like he had been slapped in face, then punched in the gut. His anger had evaporated, replaced by an expression of shock and dread. It was as if, in muggle expression, he had seen a ghost. His face went white, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, his hands trembled, his steps seemed to falter, for a moment it looked like he was having a panic attack, then he turned around and fled as quickly from the hospital wing, as he had entered, looking back at Harry all the time until he reached the doors.

Everyone stood still for a moment, amazed at the spectacle, shifting their gaze from Harry to the spot Snape had disappeared and back, until Fudge broke the silence, "Fellow seems quite unbalanced, Dumbledore."

"Oh, he has just suffered a great disappointment," replied Dumbledore quietly.

Harry's expression relaxed and with a clearly false politeness, "I am sorry, Minister, for this spectacle and if my ramblings last time were a bit disconcerting, you know so much exposure to Dementors and such a traumatic experience and the case being so close to my parents' murder, well you can say it was nerve rattling"

Hermione stared at Harry, surprised at the sudden change in attitude and curious of what he was playing at. Fudge shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably as if not sure what to make of it, looking at Harry warily, "Of course, of course. I understand my dear boy. But I should be leaving now, Daily Prophet is going to crucify the ministry over this fiasco."

Harry just gave him a understanding nod, "Of course sir, but I don't think it'd be wise to walk up to the gates with a werewolf lurking around." Fudge blanched at the sudden realization. Harry continued, "I think it would be much safer to use floo, if headmaster would be so kind as to let you use his fireplace. And I have a small matter of mutual benefit to discuss while you are on the way to professor's office. And it might even help you with your problems with the papers."

Both of them looked at Dumbledore, who just gave them a nod and a curious smile, quite like a spectator at some play, waiting for it to reach its climax.

Madame Pomfrey seemed to be near to having a fit but didn't say anything and turned to Hermione, "Very well Miss Granger. Into the bed. It seems Mr. Potter has more pressing matters to attend." Putting as much bite into 'pressing' as possible.

Hermione was dejected. She too, just as Dumbledore seemed, was hoping to see it all to an end. "Actually, I was hoping to bring along Hermione, Madam Pomfrey. She has been through it all with me and can help us with some details which I might overlook," spoke up Harry as if reading her mind, and gave her a wink. Madame Pomfrey opened her mouth, about to say something, but Dumbledore raised his hand, "It's quite alright, Poppy. I don't think Mr. Potter or Miss Granger are that much injured. I am sure, if any of them feels any slightest discomfort, they will behave responsibly and report back here immediately." Hermione, just to demonstrate that she was fine, leapt nimbly off her bed and hurried to stand besides Harry, nodding furiously, "Of course, sir.", giving the school nurse her best puppy dog expression. Madame pomfrey just gave an angry huff, and turned away towards Ron's bed, muttering to herself angrily about meddling headmasters and reckless children.

Dumbledore turned towards them all and gave a cheerful smile, "Shall we?"

As the four of them walked towards headmaster's office, with Dumbledore leading the procession; Hermione, walking just behind Harry, was bubbling with a thousand questions. But it seemed that for once in his life Harry had a plan, so with an all the strength of her willpower, she kept her mouth shut. They walked in comfortable silence for a few corridors, with Fudge fidgeting with his bowler hat, when Harry broke the silence, "So minister, what is the plan if say, Black crosses the border? Say into France, beyond your jurisdiction?"

Fudge jumped a bit, as if surprised by sudden question, tensed for a moment, before relaxing and jovially patting Harry on his back, and spoke in a patronising voice, "Oh don't worry yourself about that, young Harry, we will alert ICW and get an international warrant issued."

It seemed as if Harry was just waiting for Fudge to say that, "Ah, well but that is the matter I wanted to discuss with you sir. For the warrant you will need a conviction. And for that you need a trial, which Sirius Black never got."

"WWHHAAATT?!" Fudge bellowed out, before turning towards Dumbledore as if seeking confirmation. "It's true," Dumbledore replied sombrely. Before Fudge could say anything else, Harry pressed on, "Imagine the scandal it would cause if public comes to know that; in addition that the apparent betrayer of my parents is living a free man, on a mere technical oversight. And Merlin forbid, a less honest minister than you in some distant future, were to sign a pardon on this technicality... It would be nothing but grievous insult to the justice system and to my parents' sacrifice."

Fudge seemed to be shocked into silence. Hermione could clearly see various scenarios playing right in front of his eyes. She could also see where Harry was going with this, and could barely contain the anticipation building up inside her. "And that too, a fault of not yours, but of Bagnold administration." Harry added, almost as an afterthought.

Fudge suddenly seemed to come back to his senses, "Yes! Of course! It's not my fault at all. It's all a mess created by Bagnold and...and..and Crouch. Yes, Crouch was the head of the tribunal at that time, before the mess with his son. Yes it's all Crouch's and Bagnold's fault. We can clearly place the blame where it lies in the papers."

Harry merely shook his head in amusement, "Ah, but sir, you know how the public opinion works, easily swayed, looking for the most convenient scapegoat."

Fudge seemed again, to be at a loss for words, "But...but..."

Harry however smiled, as if a performer reaching the end of his trick, "However, sir, if you call for an open court trial," letting the words sink in for a moment, Fudge almost hanging on to his every word, "even if he is absent, it will be a conviction-in-absentia, and you will be hailed for your foresight where the previous administration failed."

Fudge seemed to perk up at this. "Yes...yes, that is actually the most logical route."

Harry kept going on, "And if he does come, and is proven guilty, he is back in Azkaban, where he belongs, and you are proclaimed a hero; who did with a swish of quill, what the whole DMLE, Madame Bones and all her men couldn't do in a whole year."

Fudge seemed almost giddy at this, and there was a spring in his steps as if he was trying to hurry back to his office and get it done at this instant.

"And if he does, by any chance, however miniscule, get proven innocent, you become a champion of justice, who corrected the grave miscarriage of justice, and earn the favour of the head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black." Then lowering his voice in a conspiring tone he added, "And we both know, the fortunes of house of Malfoy are nothing but mere pittance against the coffers of house of Black." Then straightening up, he added, in a solemn and formal voice, "And in any case, the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter is forever grateful to you for bringing a lawful closure to the deaths of its last lord and lady."

It seemed as if Christmas has arrived much earlier for Fudge, "Of course you are right, Harry my boy. I will contact Madame Bones at once to begin the paperwork for setting up a trial. I will need your assistance, as chief warlock, of course, Albus."

They had come to a stop at the bottom of the staircase leading to the headmaster's office, in front of a griffin gargoyle. Dumbledore turned, his eyes staring at Harry appraisingly, before nodding to Fudge, "Of course Cornelius. And it seems as the luck would have it, Madame Bones arrived by floo only moments ago. Minerva is entertaining her at the moment in my office. She seems to have received a tip about Sirius's recapture. Acid pops."

The gargoyle leapt aside to allow them the passage to headmaster's office. They all ascended the stairs lost in their own thoughts, with Fudge muttering to himself and stealing glances now and then towards Harry.

Hermione, during this whole time was in awe. If she had not known Harry before, she would have bet that he was a Slytherin. He had masterfully cornered the Minister of Magic right where he wanted, in less than the 10 minutes it took, to walk from Hospital Wing to Headmaster's Office.

The door opened on its own and Hermione's attention was soon diverted. It was the first time Hermione had been in Headmaster's office, and she wished she had a few pair of eyes more. One corner seemed to be devoted to books, rare tomes, filled with ancient and arcane knowledge and mysteries; on one side an entire shelf was over-flowing with various magical gadgets, whirling, spinning, making strange sounds, one that was puffing various coloured smoke now and then. Her attention was again distracted by a soothing and calming music, which seemed to be a birdsong, towards the headmaster's desk, besides which on an ornate golden perch stood Professor Dumbledore's Phoenix, Fawkes about whom Harry had told her last year. But listening its description or reading it in a book was nothing compared to seeing it with her own eyes. It seemed to be made up of some ethereal fire made solid. Its feathers red, crimson, saffron and gold. It's body a somewhat cross between a peacock and a falcon.

Fawkes spread its wingspan and in one beat glided through air to perch upon Harry's right shoulder and nuzzled his hair. Harry gave a scratch on its head, just behind the plumage, to which Fawkes gave a trilling song-like sigh. The tiredness Hermione was starting to feel from such a long night began to wash off, and a new fresh breath seemed to flow through her. So this was the reason professor Dumbledore always seemed to be in such good spirits, she mused.

Everyone seemed entranced by the play between the bird and Harry, when a sudden clearing of throat broke everyone out of it. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, I assume you both have a valid reason to be out of your beds so late in night?" Hermione stiffened and straightened her back immediately at the curt and sharp voice of her Head of House, instinctively alarmed at being caught out of bounds after curfew, before realizing that she had been with the headmaster all this time.

"Of course, Professor." Harry piped up. Professor McGonagall looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to complete his excuse, but Harry just gave her a cheeky grin. McGonagall did a double take, so did Hermione, the grin and the attitude, so unlike him. McGonagall huffed, and still watching Harry curiously, spoke through gritted teeth, "So, pray, do tell, Mr. Potter, the reason for your and Miss Granger's late night shenanigans."

But before Harry could reply, Professor Dumbledore interrupted them, "It's alright, Minerva. They were with me the whole time."

At that moment, Hermione noticed the 3 other people in the room. Near the headmaster's desk Fudge was speaking urgently to a formidable looking red-haired woman, who seemed to be in her mid thirties, wore a monocle and official ministry robes. Suddenly their conversation ceased and she looked sharply towards both Harry and Hermione. She had that particular presence about her, not unlike Professor McGonagall, which commanded attention and respect, and Hermione just knew that this must be Madame Bones, about whom they were just talking. She just seemed to be the kind of person, whom you could trust with the security of the nation.

"Ah, Madame Bones!" Dumbledore spoke, "How are you doing, this evening?"

"Fine, Professor Dumbledore." She acknowledged him evenly, before turning towards Harry and Hermione enquiringly.

Hermione suddenly felt quite intimidated under her gaze, Harry moved forward, and gracefully shook hands with her, "Harry Potter, ma'am. Accompanied by Miss Hermione Granger, my best friend."

She merely nodded, before speaking, "Minister Fudge just informed me that Sirius Black never received a Trial, and that the source of this information is you. Now since I know that no one has ever asked for the trial records for Sirius Black, I am curious how you came upon such information."

"WWHHAATT?!" Professor McGonagall couldn't stop herself, before covering her mouth with her hand. Colour seemed to drain from her face.

"I came to know of it from the mouth of the person in question himself", Harry replied, turning back towards Madame Bones.

Professor McGonagall seemed to be losing whatever colour seemed to be remaining in her face.

"You want me to believe that you met with Sirius Black, had a conversation with him, and he let you just go? Unharmed?" asked Madame Bones disbelievingly.

"Indeed I do ma'am, and even if it does sound a bit strange, rest assured the rest of the tale is even stranger. And if headmaster would be kind enough to let us use his Pensieve, we can clear up this whole issue beyond doubt." Harry replied.

Dumbledore appeared surprised at this, "Why, of course, please I would insist upon it, but I would like to ask Mr. Potter how he came to know about my Pensieve?"

Harry just gave a small grin and answered, "Why professor it appears that you never knew my father and godfather?", before gently lifting Fawkes on his forearm and placing him back on its perch. Then he proceeded to put his wand tip to his temple and pulling out a faint glowing silvery strand of what looked like fibres of some sort, which were neither solid, nor liquid, but seemed both all the same. Dumbledore seemed to accept the answer and conjured a small vial, into which Harry placed those strands. Before Hermione could stop herself, a sound of half formed question escaped her, which she tried to stop, but was noticed by everyone, "Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed to see everyone looking towards her, "but I was just wondering what a Pensieve is?" she asked in a slightly more firm voice.

Professor Dumbledore beamed at her, "No apologies are necessary Miss Granger. Asking questions is the only way we can learn, something which I have always endeavoured to encourage among my students. As for your question, it is a very rare magical artefact, used to view memories from a person. And I assume these are of the encounter between Mr. Potter, you, Mr. Weasley and Sirius Black," he asked turning towards Harry, who merely nodded.

As Dumbledore led the minister, Madame Bones and Professor McGonagall to a small cabinet on one side of the office, Hermione finally noticed the two other people who had accompanied Madame Bones. One was a tall, bald, dark skinned male, with broad shoulders, who gave an impression of calm and composed presence, while his companion, who couldn't be more different from him, a medium height tall, young woman who appeared to be in her twenties, was a riot of colours, from her bubblegum pink hair to her bright purple weird sisters t-shirt, under her crimson official auror robe and her black dragon hide combat boots, who looked to be barely able to keep herself from bouncing in excitement.

Madame Bones turned towards both of them, "Kingsley," she addressed the tall man, "you are with me, as witness. Professor McGonagall can stand in as another witness?" Professor McGonagall merely nodded in response to her unasked question. "Auror Tonks," she said, looking towards the young woman, "keep watch. I trust you know the protocol. Mr. Potter, how long should we expect to be in the pensieve?"

"About 15 minutes, I think, ma'am." Replied harry.

All the adults in the room, bar Auror Tonks, huddled around faintly glowing dish like object, the Pensieve and bent forward till their faces were submerged in it. Hermione craned her neck trying to discern the rare and wonderful magical artefact when her attention was interrupted by an excited squeal.

It was Auror Tonks, as she pounced upon Harry, who easily caught her in his arms with a grunt, before giving him a sloppy kiss right on his lips.

"Eww Dora. That's gross. How many times do I have to tell you to not do it?" Harry yelled at her. But she just laughed dismissively, "Oh, don't complain, Kit, you know that you enjoy it when I do it!"

And then dipped her face down again as if to kiss him again, but this time Harry was prepared and raised his head slipping his tongue in her mouth,

"Eww Harry, that's gross...we are like second or third cousins something!" shrieked Tonks and jumped away from him.

"Never stopped you Blacks before!" replied back Harry without missing a beat.

Hermione was shocked. First of all there were so many questions shooting off in her mind that she didn't know where to begin. Then, secondly, Harry was suddenly behaving in a way she had never seen or expected him to do before. It was like he had had an entire personality transplant. And Hermione had had enough. She wanted answers, and she wanted then right then. She crossed her arms across her chest, tapped her foot, cleared her throat and raised an inquiring eyebrow.

Harry and Tonks turned towards her sharply, as if they had entirely forgotten about her. Harry gulped, and raised his hand to ruffle his hair, Hermione's eyes following his hand, mentally noting down this gesture in her growing list of things that changed about Harry.

Harry began, "Err, sorry about that. We got carried away. So, yes, introductions, Dora, this is Hermione Granger. Hermione, let me introduce you to, Junior Auror Nymphadora Tonks."

"DON"T CALL ME THAT!" Junior Auror Nymphadora Tonks interrupted sharply.

"...who hates her first name," Harry continued, ignoring the interruption, "and prefers to be known as simply Tonks. In some circles she also goes by the name of Adara Black, Heir and Shield-maiden of the House of Black. She is a cousin of Sirius."

"So, you are Hermione Granger. Harry has told me so much about you." Tonks said, excitedly and giving her a tight hug.

"Err...pleasure to meet you too, auror Tonks..." replied Hermione, hesitatingly, totally thrown off by the unusual over-familiarity of the greeting and her bubbly personality.

"Please, just call me Tonks. All right, now introductions are out of way. Back to work, Buckbeak is safe at the Potter estate, and Sirius is waiting for your Patronus at 12 Grimm. I think, if the rest of it also goes according to our plan, we can chalk this up as another victory for team Lupard." Harry and Tonks did a complicated punch-high five-handshake, and then suddenly her mouth morphed into a wolf snout and she gave out a howl.

Harry just shook his head at that all the while he took out a flask from his pocket, took a large swig from it, made a yucky face, shuddered for a moment, before straightening again. Hermione goggled at Tonks while her face returned to its previous state. "Show off." Snorted Harry. "She is a Metamorphmagus, it's an inborn power" he replied to Hermione's curious expression. Understanding dawned on her face. Of course. She had read about them and they were very, very rare. She raised a questioning eyebrow towards the flask in his hand to which he replied, "Polyjuice, masking the difference in body structure from the loop in time."

"Difference in body structure? HARRY JAMES POTTER! Just how much time did the two of you idiot fools went back that it changed your body structure?" Hermione wanted to yell more, ask more questions, but before she could do that or Harry answer back, they were interrupted by the 5 people emerging from the Pensieve.

Apart from Dumbledore, no one seemed composed. Fudge seemed trembling from the implications, Madame Bones appeared seething at the miscarriage of justice, McGonagall was oscillation between deep sorrow and fiery rage, and auror Kingsley appeared to be in deep troubling thought.

Everyone appeared to start speaking at once, but then the calm voice of Dumbledore cut through all the din, "Cornelius, it seems there has been a grave injustice. I think a preliminary trial in presence of the minister of magic, the chief warlock and head of the DMLE, before a full open trial would be the best course of action."

"Of...Of course, Albus. Are you sure that the memories are correct?" Fudge seemed once again to be unnerved.

"Of course, minister. You know how difficult it is to make fake memories, and those too are easily detectable. It was an original memory, from my experience." Madame Bones replied, she seemed to be keeping control of herself with great difficulty. She turned towards Dumbledore, "So Albus, how do you propose to contact Sirius and bring him here for the preliminary trial?"

Professor Dumbledore turned his eyes to Harry, "Mr. Potter seems to be full of surprises today. Maybe he would like to surprise us yet once again?" In response, Harry just raised his wand, gave it a swish, and like his concealing spells before, silently cast the patronus charm. A huge stag made up of silvery ethereal light, yet seemingly defined and solid flowed from the wand tip. Its magnificent size which appeared large even over the vast expanse of the lake, now appeared much more so in the confines of the office. It was easily taller than average human height, without even counting its antlers. Hermione could understand, if this was animagus form of James Potter, how he could keep Professor Lupin in check. Harry stared in its eyes and spoke in clear firm voice, "Padfoot, its time." Then closed his eyes and appeared to concentrate and the patronus vanished in a flash of light.

"I think he will be using the floo." Harry said turning to the others, all of whom were staring at him in awe. "What? Have I got something on my face?"

Everyone else seemed to be in too much shock to make a coherent sentence. Madame Bones began, "Was... was that a corporeal patronus?"

"And cast silently too?" added Kingsley astonished.

McGonagall who seemed to be recovering from the shock of knowing the misfortune of one of her cubs, spoke with a hint of pride in her voice, "And did you use Lily's communication spell with it?"

Tonks merely beamed at him and made kissy faces at him from behind everyone's back. Dumbledore was again looking at Harry as if trying to put pieces of a puzzle together, while Fudge merely goggled at the casual display of magic.

Harry just gave an embarrassed grin, shrugged nonchalantly and raised his hand to ruffle his hair making it stick out at ends again. McGonagall looked at him sharply at his action before a strange expression came over her face.

"Your father used to do this all the time." It was Madame Bones who spoke removing her monocle, cleaning it with the hem of her robe and putting it back on, "I was 2 years ahead of him at both Hogwarts and Auror Academy." She added at Harry's questioning expression.

They were interrupted by a sudden flare of green light, and Sirius Black stepped out of the fireplace. But he too, Hermione noticed, like Harry, had changed. But much more drastically. His cheeks had filled out, he had a properly trimmed French style beard and his skin seemed to be quite tanned and healthy. His long hair were clean, even shiny, and were tied back elegantly in a neat pony tail. He wore a black dragon hide biker's jacket which seemed to be tailor made for him and fit perfectly on his tall, lean and graceful frame. He seemed to have muscled up quite a bit too and walked confidently in long, easy, graceful strides as if he owned the place. Heavy combat boots, which suspiciously looked to be of the same type as Tonks', made soft but firm sound on the wooden floor. Instead of a man on the run from law and living in wild for over an year, he looked like a man at the prime of his health. His handsome face and clothes lending him a look of an aristocratic prince, out for a night with his friends, rather than a mass murderer about to stand trial. His grey eyes held that same mad mischievous gleam. As Hermione surveyed him, she came to the conclusion that the timescale for which Harry and Sirius went back was not in hours. Not even in days. Even with magic, no one could have healed that much in less than minimum of a month.

Everyone seemed to freeze in shock and surprise at his sudden appearance. Before both Kingsley and Tonks moved in together, wands drawn, and stood between Sirius and rest of them. Fudge again looked to be nervous in the presence of a suspected mass murderer, whom he had spent whole last year trying to hunt down, and who now may well prove to be innocent and was one of the richest men in wizarding England, head of one of the oldest and once most powerful family, to boot.

Amelia strode forward and stood in front of Sirius, between her 2 Aurors. Her face seemed to set in stone. "You understand that you were asked to come for a preliminary hearing?"

Sirius replied in a strangely controlled voice, his eyes took up a guarded expression, "Yes I do, Amelia."

Madame Bones held out her hand, "Your wand. And knife."

Sirius slowly drew out his wand from a wrist holster and a knife from a belt sheath, careful to not startle anyone, mindful of the wands both Aurors held tightly in their hands.

"Your all three knives, Black." Madame Bones said in clipped tone. Sirius gave her a strange smile, shook his head as in amusement, and took out two more knives, one from his back and one from his boot and handed them to her.

Then surprisingly, Madame Bones turned sharply to Tonks, "And all of your weapons too, Auror Tonks."

Strangely enough, apart from Fudge and Hermione, no one found it odd and Tonks without any protest handed over her wand and started pulling out various weapons from various magically hidden holsters and sheaths, a foot long straight dagger, two matching fighting knives, a survival knife in her boot, a mixed assortment of vials and surprisingly enough a handgun, which she kept on headmaster's desk. Fudge's eyes seemed to be widening with every weapon placed on desk. When she was done, Madame Bones nodded at her, "Auror Tonks, you are excused from today's proceedings until their end. You may remain in the room, if you wish, on the condition of non-interference."

Tonks replied in a clear and clipped voice, "I understand ma'am, I wish to remain."

Madame Bones looked at her appraisingly for a moment before nodding and turning to Professor McGonagall, "Minerva, I hope you don't mind acting as the scribe and a witness to these proceedings."

"Of course I don't." Professor McGonagall replied evenly, but it seemed as if she was trying her best to keep her composure. Her eyes were fixed on Sirius.

The next hour passed extremely slowly for Hermione. The minister, Madame Bones and headmaster Dumbledore in his role as chief warlock sat on three chairs behind the large desk, while Sirius sat in a chair in the front of desk. Auror Kingsley stood behind him, wand drawn and held firm. Professor McGonagall sat on the left side of desk, using a Dicta-quill to write down the proceedings. Hermione found herself sitting with Harry and Tonks in a corner, who both sat silently acting as if they didn't know each other. Kingsley administered Veritaserum to Sirius. One after another questions were asked in exceedingly elaborate and ornate language, and as she sat there, near to sleep, Hermione Granger vowed that she would never make law her career choice.

The next thing Hermione remembered, was waking up next morning in the hospital wing, with a small note from Harry on her bedside, informing her that Sirius was cleared of all charges, the news will be printed in the next newspaper, that there will be a more official open trial, which was more of a media circus and just a formality, and that he was going along with Sirius and Tonks but will contact her soon in the holidays. Along with many thanks, and apologies for not meeting before going because of lack of time and him not wishing to wake her after such a long night. As a post-script he had requested her to not tell anyone, not even Ron, about his and Sirius' time trip.

Hermione had, of course, acquiesced to his request. In fact, as she knew that Ron would be angry at being left out of the adventure and at her for keeping the Time-Turner a secret, she had left out the whole Time-Turner incident. She just pretended that she had also just woken up in the morning, and that ministry had captured Sirius and given him a preliminary trial and that Harry had gone as a witness and later on went with Sirius.

But the questions kept running in loops in her mind, and her over active imagination kept playing various possibilities and scenarios, each one more absurd than the last. Oddly enough, one quote kept resurfacing in her mind, 'Reality is oft, stranger than fiction.'

And as that fine early July morning, sunny and warm, found her, sitting under a huge oak in the park in front of her house, she kept growing restless again, with the numerous questions, the answers to which she could not find in a book. Her thoughts were interrupted by the deep thrumming sound of an engine. She raised her eyes towards the road and spied a boy on a motorcycle. He looked to be somewhere between his late teens and early adulthood, wore a black helmet, aviators, a Beatles t-shirt, dark, almost black jeans and a pair of leather, heavy looking combat boots. He seemed to be tall, almost 6 foot, with a lean built and deeply tanned skin. Hermione spied a pair of black Dog tags hanging from his neck.

The motorcycle itself looked directly out of some magazine advertising concept designs. Hermione narrowed her eyes to read the label written on the bike, Confederate Motorcycles, X-132 Hellcat, before realising just how close the motorcycle was to her. In fact it had stopped, right in front of her! The rider had raised his helmets' visor and was looking at her strangely from behind his dark aviators. He was smiling in poorly disguised amusement, as if at a very funny joke.

"G..Good Morning." Hermione stammered out.

The boy gave out a chuckle, gave a pointed look towards the book she held in her hands, The Hobbit, and then with a highly amused grin, replied, "What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"

Hermione gave out a slight nervous chuckle too, the easy, gentle, and suspiciously familiar smile putting her at some ease.

"All of them at once," she said.

The boy gave another carefree chuckle, seemed to think for a moment about the next line, before speaking, "I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it's very difficult to find anyone."

Hermione blushed at that. A young, hormone laden, teenager brain part of her, jumping to all sorts of conclusions. As far as pick-up lines went, it wasn't half bad, if a bit forward.

The boy too seemed to realise the implications of his words, and began to stammer out an apology, when Hermione's brain finally caught on. She flipped through the book hurriedly, partially to avert her eyes and give her hands something to do, partially to continue the conversation, as she did not remember the next line. "I should think so- in these parts! We are plain folk and have no use of adventures. Let me see, I don't think I know your name?"

The boy gave out a relieved breath, then smiled again, and gently took the book from her hand, read from it for a moment and replied, "Yes, yes, my dear lady- and I do know your name, Miss Hermione Granger."

Hermione's eyes widened and eyebrows shot up in surprise and shock. He knew her name! Was he stalking her? She didn't even live here for 10 months in an year. Was this guy an old muggle school acquaintance? Or a neighbour's son?

The boy however, did not heed her any notice and continued, "And you do know my name, though you don't remember that I belong to it."

'What!? Who is this guy? That smile was a bit recognisable, but it was impossible. Those cheek bones and jaw line did seem familiar, thought Hermione. But as the boy slowly removed his helmet to reveal carelessly tousled raven black hair; and his dark glasses, to reveal bright, enthralling emerald green eyes, realisation dawned upon Hermione. The time scale of Harry's and Sirius's time trip was definitely not in hours or days, or even months. They had gone YEARS back!

"I am Harry Potter, and Harry Potter means me!" he was now plainly laughing at her shocked expression. "To think that I would be Good-Morninged by my best friend of 3 years, as if I was selling buttons at the door!"