Disclaimer: Not mine.

One

31st August 2009

Watching the unnaturally still man was disconcerting. He hardly resembled a human being, and the influence of the most potent potions and spells known to the wizardkind made him look quite dead.

Lord Voldemort seemed to be subdued at last.

The thought was a ridiculous one. There was no way they could keep him like that forever. His followers were trying day and night to find him. It was only a matter of time until they would succeed and then a new reign of terror would start. This cease of fire, this tiny little respite from the open warfare, would be soon over. Even now they could feel Voldemort's power stirring, and the spells needed to be re-cast every day.

Hermione Granger was one of three persons in the Order able to cast such potent curses, and she was tired. She, Harry and Dumbledore took turns, and with only the three of them, the strain on their magical reserves was enormous. Voldemort was actively fighting the magic, and without the potions Snape spelled directly into his bloodstream, the Order would be hard-pressed to keep the Dark Lord unconscious.

Clever son-of-a-bitch, she mused as she watched Voldemort's face. When she had been a girl, she had been terrified of him, but the fear had gradually left her. With every Cruciatus thrown her way, with every life she herself took, she became less afraid of this madman, of dying in fight against him. Her only fear now was that they would be unable to stop him for good.

He had one more, Voldemort had hidden his last horcrux somewhere and not a soul knew what it was and where it was. He had been too careful, he had left no traces, no people to interrogate. The diary, the diadem, the cup, the locket, the bloody snake and the tiny piece of Voldemort in Harry's scar had been all gone… but one horcrux still remained.

Dumbledore suspected it was Gaunt family ring and Hermione tended to agree most days, but they could not be certain, not without the ring in their possession; the flimsy piece of jewelry had disappeared from the face of Earth sometime during the summer between Riddle's graduation and his job for Borkin and Burkes.

They could not risk killing the body – Voldemort would just create another shell for his soul. Sighing, Hermione looked at the monster one more time before she stood and left the chamber.

The Unspeakables had played with their runes and divination stones and the sands of time, and surprisingly enough, they had come up with a plan which Minister Shacklebolt seemed to like. It was insane and it was dangerous, extremely dangerous, and it just might work.

They had contacted her and Harry with their idea; they needed someone with a magical level high above the standard and a direct experience with time travels which left the two of them as the only suitable candidates for the mission.

Hermione's magical core had expanded in the years after the graduation. She had gained power and experience and was slowly reaching her physical and magical prime. Witches usually reached it in their thirties, wizards in their forties – which ruled Harry out. He was much more powerful than her, but his core was still developing and throwing him through time could stunt the process. No one felt comfortable with the possibility of robbing the Chosen One of his power in this chaotic world where Dark Lords sprung up like mushrooms every few decades.

Dumbledore had been silently left out. Hermione knew that the old Headmaster would be the first one to disagree with the plan; he disliked how the Ministry carelessly risked the young brave witches and wizards in the war and this could prove to be a suicide mission.

She carefully renewed the protections on the chamber before she activated her portkey. She never liked this kind of travel and she landed gracelessly at the steps of 12 Grimmauld Place.

Stumbling, she fell back and was saved from hitting the ground by a steadying hand at the small of her back.

"Ah, Miss Granger! Just the witch I was looking for!" Professor Dumbledore chuckled and merrily twinkled down at her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, Professor, thank you." Hermione nodded.

"Shall we, then?" He motioned towards the stairs and gallantly opened the door for her wandlessly, keeping a step behind her and looking carefully around the neighborhood for a second. It was easy to forget

The house was silent but brightly lit up. After Harry had become the owner of it, he had done his best to obliterate anything and everything related to the Blacks and their legacy. He had reorganized the whole house, even knocked down a few walls, and burnt away the portrait of Mrs. Black.

"You mentioned that you wanted to talk to me, Professor." Hermione said as they made their way into the kitchen. There was no one present, and Hermione suspected that Harry was fast asleep upstairs. He had a demanding job after all. Moving towards the kitchen cabinets, she asked, "Would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you, I am needed elsewhere. I only hoped I would catch you at home before your big day tomorrow, Miss Granger. I know what you are up to."

Hermione stopped her movements and stared at the cup in her hands for a moment before she put it down, turned and looked at the Headmaster. Dumbledore was standing near the table in his bright lemon green robes, his beard tied up with an orange elastic band. He was smiling softly and watched her knowingly.

"Sir?"

"I remember you. There is no point in denying it, my dear." He chuckled at the slight blush in her cheeks. How embarrassing. Dumbledore knew, of course; he had been a teacher at Hogwarts, so he had met her in the past. Keeping something like this from a wizard like him was impossible.

He placed an envelope on the table.

"I took the liberty of writing a certain letter. Contact my younger self and give it to him. I daresay that you would find this cover story much better than the one Kingsley provided. It would be much safer for you to appear to have familial bonds in those times."

"I… I don't know what to say, Professor."

"Then don't say anything. I found out that it makes one look quite wise." Dumbledore chuckled again and took a step towards her. His eyes were twinkling annoyingly when he offered her his hand. Hermione reluctantly shook it and the Headmaster nodded once.

"And please, don't judge me too harshly, Miss Granger. I was a troubled man back then. Good luck and I see you tomorrow." With those parting words the Headmaster left the kitchen and quietly closed the door.

Hermione remained for a few more moments, drinking her tea and worrying about the past, her future. She could not imagine Dumbledore as a troubled man – in the nineteen years she had known him he had always been calm and composed, always in good spirits despite the sorrow and pain surrounding them. Then again, it was hard to link Harry, the self-assured and confident auror to the raging teenager he had been fifteen years ago.

She left her cup in the sink and looked around the kitchen; she would not see her home or her friends for some time. With her heart heavy as lead, Hermione went to bed and prayed for dreamless night and safe journey.

Sorry for any mistakes - I am a non-native speaker and this story is without a beta. Interested in more? This is going to be a romance but I'll keep the pairing a secret for now. I would hate to spoil the surprise! :) Please let me know what you think, HP is not exactly my domain :)